Chapter 36: The Forest of Guns (Part 1)

Yujü Village was quite famous throughout Shanxi. The villagers of this Catholic village were known for their ferocity and combativeness. They even had over a dozen shotguns, and at the slightest provocation, they would mobilize the entire village for a armed clash. Residents of nearby villages dared not provoke them.

After adopting Catholicism and building a small church, they erected crosses everywhere, becoming even more unrestrained. Their number of shotguns increased to over twenty. Neither the government troops nor the Black Flag Army wanted to go to this Catholic village to collect supplies.

In fact, most of them didn’t believe in God nor understood what a French consul or the right to free preaching meant. They only knew that by embracing foreign religion, they could enjoy many advantages—no need to pay taxes, the freedom to act tyrannically, and even the ability to kill people without facing punishment.

Although the village’s local deities and Confucian temples were demolished, and the missionaries forbade them from worshipping their ancestors, they felt these glorious days were more than enough.

They had also heard that a military unit from Xiliu Camp, which previously dismissed sacred teachings and missionaries at sea, had arrived in Shanxi. They even heard that this unit had killed many people on the riverbanks outside Shanxi City, but they merely laughed at it.

These were just rumors. In Shanxi, once crosses were erected and tricolor flags hung, no one dared to provoke them—even the government and the Black Flag Army had to bow their heads.

News of Xiliu Camp’s demonstration march had already reached them. Even before the camp arrived in the village, they were already prepared.

The bravest fighters from the village, armed with shotguns and swords, shouted, “What’s there to fear? Even ten units from Xiliu Camp wouldn’t dare enter our village!”
“Go to the watchtower and load the guns. If they dare come in, we have the right to fire.”
“Mobilize everyone in the village—even a thousand Black Flag Army soldiers wouldn’t dare enter.”
“Prepare an extra couple of barrels of gunpowder. They definitely won’t dare attack.”

A few cunning individuals who were good at winning land disputes and securing rights to forests and fields from neighboring villages proposed even bolder plans: “Hang more tricolor flags!”
“Get the crosses ready!”
“The tricolor flags must be large—ideally, let them see them first, so we can extort money from the missionaries and the government.”
“And prepare more buckets of sewage. We must provoke them until they’re angry but still too afraid to attack us.”

With everything prepared—over twenty shotguns and dozens of weapons—they were ready to fight Xiliu Camp. One of the brutes wiped his eyes, anxiously saying, “Why hasn’t that Xiliu Camp arrived yet? We’re getting impatient.”
“If you get impatient, you’ll fire the first shot.”
“Fine, I’ll fire it… Ah…”
The brute almost lost his balance, his mouth wide open: “I guess… you should fire it instead.”
“Xiliu Camp is coming! Everyone, get ready to fire! Wait…”

Perhaps the most visually striking sight of that era was the infantry formation equipped with bayonets. Rows of gleaming bayonets formed a dazzling yet terrifying array. To these arrogant and brave believers, it was nothing short of a hellish scene.

Even well-trained infantry showed extreme fear when faced with bayonet charges. The Qing troops fought against the Anglo-French forces at Baliqiao. Despite hours of British artillery fire, rifle volleys, and rocket attacks that failed to completely defeat them, two infantry companies of the allied forces rushed onto Baliqiao and, within ten minutes, used bayonets to clear the area from one side to the other, utterly crushing the Qing troops’ morale. The first platoon, the second platoon, the third platoon—these soldiers had lowered their heads; all they could see were bayonets. Liu Yu had gathered sixty Remington rifles equipped with bayonets from the entire Xiliu Camp. Although their firepower was greatly reduced, the visual impact they created was unmatched by Spencer carbines. Those veterans had seen much and were quite experienced; they had even encountered French Marine soldiers before, but it seemed that the morale of both sides was equally formidable. They had never seen such an army before—leading the way was a large flag with two willow leaves and the words “Xiliu Camp” written on it. Every soldier wore uniform clothing, identical straw hats, and even the same shoes. These were standard uniforms custom-made by Liu Yu in Haiyang. Though he wasn’t satisfied with them, they were completely free, and three sets were given to each person. Wearing such uniformed troops would surely intimidate many. They marched in four columns, advancing menacingly toward Yujicun. The believers now looked at those muskets loaded with high-quality gunpowder and bullets, but none of them had the courage to fire. In reality, these were just ordinary infantry who had received basic training in formation, but in the eyes of the believers, they seemed comparable to the strongest French infantry—except that the French uniforms were more refined. Who would dare provoke such an army? Who would fire the first shot? A brave man picked up a musket and lit the fuse, but someone beside him quickly extinguished the fire, shouting, “Are you crazy? Look at what kind of army that is!” With their fast-fire muskets and formidable formation, what could be done? It was said that the Xiliu Camp had killed over six hundred soldiers on the riverbank outside Shanxi City just because of a disagreement. Some villagers had even heard about the bloody carnage. If a shot were fired in this village, it might lead to another massacre. Someone quick-witted shouted, “Quick! Quick! Quick!” No one understood what he meant by “quick,” but they heard him yell, “Hurry up and put away the crosses and the tricolor flag! Everyone, run back to your homes! Don’t go outside—under no circumstances!” Hearing this, everyone understood immediately and acted swiftly: “Hurry! Put away the tricolor flag!” “Put away the Bibles too—don’t let the Xiliu Camp see them.” That quick-thinking man shouted again, “Also, go and inform the foreign lords—make sure to bring the French missionaries here.” He had seen the authority of French missionaries along the coast: “Hurry! Hurry! If they dare touch us, they won’t dare provoke the foreign lords or the French missionaries.” “And tear down those tricolor flags! Whoever goes to inform the foreign lords—once they arrive, the Xiliu Camp will back down!”