Chapter Ninety-One: Ringing in the Ears

At the threshing ground of the Jing Family Gully, Cao Yao threw back the cloth covering the donkey cart and nearly jumped for joy.

There was only one cannon on the two donkey carts: a bronze and iron swivel piece weighing three to four hundred pounds, with six subsidiary tubes and a basin of water, all loaded and ready.

The imperial troops in the manor dared not show themselves, yet they had not given up resistance; they loosed feathered arrows at random from within.

Outside, Liu Chengzong’s rebel soldiery obeyed orders. Courier men and militia from the relay station ringed the compound, while the two flanking detachments fanned through the village, cleansing each house and kiln cave of imperial soldiers.

This gave the cannon squad ample time to set up the artillery.

Four small crouching tigers and one swivel cannon were mounted on the threshing ground, and Liu Chengzong stood outside the outer yard with bow in hand, calling for surrender.

“Surrender now. Leave your weapons and armor, and I’ll let you go!”

Inside, two company commanders cursed in reply, unmoved. “Dream on. If you’ve got the skill, fight your way in. We’ll never surrender!”

Then came two muffled thuds.

Two cylindrical tubes sprang from the compound, trailing smoke and a hissing fuse, arcing down to land outside the yard.

One of them fell right by Liu Chengzong’s feet.

Before he could even react, Cao Yao crashed into him, knocking him violently aside so that he tumbled a great distance in an instant.

When he looked back, he saw Cao Yao sprinting bent low, snatching up the small cylinder from the ground and flinging himself flat as he hurled it back into the yard.

Then, boom!

Almost the instant Cao Yao let fly the cylinder, the one that had landed near the swivel cannon exploded.

Iron shot sprayed through a vast cloud of smoke, punching a red mist through the little donkeys hauling the carts. The two squads of cannon men beside them were blasted into disarray and fled in every direction.

When the smoke cleared, some had been pierced through with multiple holes; others had had their faces torn to bloody ruin by the iron pellets; still others lay on the ground with shattered arms or legs, screaming pitifully.

A few who wore armor struggled up from the ground, clutching their ears, covered in dust and ash, not even knowing what had happened.

In a moment the ground was full of shouting men and screaming animals. The little donkeys, in pain, dragged the cannon carts a few steps before collapsing and overturning them, scattering the subsidiary tubes and powder barrels across the ground.

The threshing ground descended into chaos.

The other cylinder Cao Yao had picked up and thrown toward the yard struck the roof tiles on the wall and bounced back down, but made no sound at all.

Cao Yao bent to search the ground, picked up a wooden tube, and swore, “The fuse got knocked off. Damned near scared the soul out of me.”

All of this happened in the space of a breath. Almost at the same moment the cannon shot had blown them apart and thrown everything into confusion, the gate of the courtyard burst open and the imperial troops charged out from within.

They were in armor.

Archers, protected by sword-and-shield men, rushed out in small groups of three or five and loosed a few arrows in all directions.

Then came the firearms men with their charges ready: hand cannons, triple-barrel guns, and bird guns, with lead shot flashing through the air.

A courier man drew his blade and moved to fight, but before he could reach the shield men, a triple-barrel gun extending from behind a shield was leveled at him. With a bang and a burst of smoke, he was struck by small lead pellets.

He froze with his sword raised, his saber slipping from his hand. Looking down, he saw three or four tiny blood-soaked holes blooming through his chest robe. He took two slow steps forward, then was shoved aside by a shield man and fell.

Behind him, the triple-gun man wore no expression at all as he swung the weapon around, searching for his next target.

For many of the cannon squad, this was not the first time they had been attacked by gunpowder weapons.

The last time may have been in Alfalfa Gorge on Yellow Dragon Mountain, under Li Bei’s bombardment.

The dreadful memory surged back: companions who had drunk and played cards with them, who had stood together against taxes and seized grain, had died in such smoke, torn apart and turned to pulp by the thunder of cannon.

Such memories drove them out of their minds. Their legs went weak, and they scrambled madly to flee the threshing ground.

The courier men and relay-station soldiers were equally panicked. Horses and mules, frightened by the explosions, bolted and collided in every direction.

Wei Qian’er’s first thought was not to run. He had no memory of fleeing. Fear had simply deafened him, and all he could do was stare wide-eyed and search frantically.

Search for one figure.

Many courier men and relay soldiers were the same. In their panic, all they wanted was someone to lean on.

Someone brave enough, someone strong enough to shield them and help them live through the cannon fire.

He found him, and many of them found him too.

At the very front of the line, pushed out onto the threshing ground, behind the four small crouching tigers set in a row, Liu Chengzong and Cao Yao stood together, repeating the motions of drawing and nocking arrows.

Cao Yao fumbled desperately at one of the crouching tigers; its carriage peg had not been driven in tight.

He shouted, “Stop shooting! How many can you kill that way? Find firewood, quick!”

Liu Chengzong cast aside his bow and arrow and searched furiously through the body of a dead cannon trooper until he yanked out a bloodied fire-stick.

He could not blow it lit.

At that moment a cannon man came running up and handed over a burning fire-stick.

It was absurd. Everyone was half-mad with fear.

You’re a cannon man, I’m a cannon man. If you’ve got the fire-stick, go light the guns!

Liu Chengzong shot the cannon man an angry glare and snatched the ignition flame, bringing it to the crouching tiger.

Boom!

Smoke rose from the bare earth.

Great shot and small shot, carrying firelight, tore through the smoke and sprayed toward the yard wall thirty or forty paces away.

The heavy shot punched through a small imperial formation, breaking arms and hurling men into the air before slamming at last into the earthen wall.

The small lead pellets, like the discharge of countless triple-barrel guns, swept through the imperial troops in armor.

The smoke gradually thinned.

The effect was not as good as expected. Many imperial robes had been battered so that the cotton stuffing burst everywhere, but the lead pellets could not pierce the iron scales after passing through the packed cotton.

Only a few unlucky men had been struck in the face or had their hands and feet wounded; they hopped in place or fell, writhing in pain.

Liu Chengzong’s ears rang from the blast.

Cao Yao fared even worse. Swinging his arm, trembling all over, he took the fire-stick from him and muttered a few words.

Liu Chengzong could not hear them either.

All he could see was that, after the cannon-squad rebels had fled in a swarm, the cavalry and the courier men were gradually converging on him.

The left and right infantry detachments, which had been blocking the imperial troops in the village, were also moving toward the threshing ground under Gao Xian and Feng Rang.

They had not yet been completely routed. There was still a chance to complete the encirclement.

He patted at his ears, which would not stop ringing, and saw Red Banner, frightened out of his wits, come galloping toward him with his red mane tossing, his big eyes oddly full of complaint.

Wei Qian’er came riding over with a crowd of relay men. As soon as he dismounted, he saw Liu Chengzong swing up onto Red Banner’s back, and hurriedly remounted, calling out, “Chief! What do we do?”

Then he saw Liu Chengzong ride toward him. He was just about to ask something when he realized Liu Chengzong’s eyes were not on his face, but on his backside.

As the two horses passed, Liu Chengzong reached out and took his quiver.

Still deaf from the ringing in his ears, Liu Chengzong could hear nothing at all; he only saw Wei Qian’er looking panicked like an utter fool.

Thinking he surely would not need arrows anymore, he came over to take them.

Just as Wei Qian’er stared blankly left and right, Liu Chengzong took from someone else a short spear about five feet long.

He weighed it in his hand, compared it toward the company commander who had charged out opposite to direct the battle, and smiled while still in the saddle.

Then he turned his horse and charged toward the imperial troops pouring out of the compound, patting Red Banner.

The warhorse ran like the wind. Liu Chengzong lay low against its neck, his arms wrapped around Red Banner’s throat, his right foot slipping free of the stirrup as he swung it over the horse’s back, hiding himself entirely on the left side of the mount.

A streak of red raced across the threshing ground. Lead pellets, arrows, and bolts shrieked past on either side.

Not until they were only seven or eight paces away did the imperial troops in formation notice that there was no rider visible on the horse. The infantry hurriedly parted, afraid of being trampled.

Then, suddenly, a human figure sprang up from the horse’s left side. The warhorse, as if in perfect understanding, wheeled sharply in an arcing turn. The rider gripped the short spear in reverse, shouted fiercely, and hurled it into the ranks!

“Take that!”

The company commander in the iron helmet and plume was issuing orders when his eyes suddenly widened in terror. In his field of vision a plume-tipped spear came closer and closer until it struck dead center in his chest.

The spearhead pierced the armor with ease and drove him backward into the infantry behind him. His strength drained away rapidly.

He could no longer give orders. He could only stare as, in his darkening vision, the cavalryman with the red-maned mount rode farther and farther away, casting several feathered arrows into his formation.

Hooves shook the threshing ground. The rebel cavalry, shaken at first, regained its calm, formed up, and launched another charge.