My father is Chongzhen? Then I have no choice but to rebel.

In his view, as long as the Qing Dynasty was generally stable internally and could maintain its offensive or balance of power against the Ming Dynasty, it didn't make much difference whether the young Fulin or someone else sat on the throne.

He valued the overall stability and the peace and prosperity of his family and followers more. As for the minor details of the allocation of supreme power, he didn't bother to interfere as long as it didn't trigger large-scale internal strife.

His return to Beijing was also motivated by a desire to temporarily avoid the front lines and observe the political situation.

When Fan Wencheng saw the two men, especially when he saw Daishan also coming, his heart stirred slightly, but he dared not be negligent in the slightest. He quickly stepped forward and was about to perform a grand salute in accordance with the rules.

"Your humble servant pays respects to the Regent! You pay respects to Prince Li!"

However, just as he bent his knees, Dorgon caught his arm first.

Dorgon wore a warm smile and spoke in a very friendly tone:

"Mr. Fan, why do you have to make such a grand gesture? Please rise, please rise. This is not the imperial court, there is no need to be so formal."

As he spoke, his gaze eagerly swept towards the area behind Fan Wencheng, his eyes gleaming with barely concealed excitement and anticipation.

He knew all too well that unless there was absolute certainty and significant progress, given Fan Wencheng's cautious nature and past record of botched things, he would never dare to invite him so easily.

It seems that the long-standing problem of imitating flintlock muskets that had plagued the Qing Dynasty has truly made a breakthrough! This could be a crucial step for him and for the entire Qing Dynasty to reverse its disadvantage in firearms against the Ming army!
Seeing Dorgon's courteous attitude, Fan Wencheng felt somewhat relieved. He straightened up, but his posture remained extremely respectful as he bowed to Dorgon and Daišan respectively.

"This humble servant thanks the Regent for his compassion. This humble servant pays respects to the Regent and Prince Li."

Dai Shan simply nodded slightly, his expression calm, his gaze probing as he looked behind Fan Wencheng without saying a word.

He is calm and composed, and rarely shows his emotions.

Dorgon looked at Fan Wencheng with a smile, his tone carrying a hint of teasing, yet also a hidden pressure:

"Mr. Fan, you invited me and Prince Li here today, surely you have something 'good' to present to both of us? I hope that this time, Mr. Fan, you won't disappoint me again. That 'bang' last time is still fresh in my memory."

He was referring to the previous barrel explosion incident.

Upon hearing this, Fan Wencheng's heart skipped a beat, but his face immediately hardened with utmost sincerity and confidence as he bowed deeply and solemnly assured them:
"Your Highness Regent, Your Highness! Your Highness, Your Highness! I dared to invite you two princes here today because I was absolutely certain of my success! I swear on my life that I will not disappoint you this time! If anything goes wrong again, I... I am willing to accept any punishment and atone with my death!"

"Eh!"

Dorgon smiled and waved his hand, feigning displeasure, and said:

“Mr. Fan, you flatter me! Such talk of death and life is inauspicious. I trust Mr. Fan. Since Mr. Fan says so, then let my brother and I broaden our horizons.”

"Yes, Your Highnesses! Please follow me."

Fan Wencheng said no more, stepped aside to lead the way, and at the same time gave a wink to the head craftsman standing to the side.

The foreman understood and quickly presented Dorgon and Daišan with a tray covered with red silk, on which were placed two brand-new flintlock muskets that had just been repeatedly inspected and wiped spotless.

When the two muskets came into view, Dorgon and Daišan's eyes lit up almost simultaneously!
Dorgon had seen the crude and failed prototype before, and now, comparing it to the original, he felt the impact even more deeply.

The two guns in front of me had straight, long barrels with a uniform dark blue sheen, clearly indicating that they had been carefully forged and quenched.

The wooden stock is made of high-quality walnut wood, polished to a smooth and warm finish, and even carved with simple anti-slip patterns.

Although the flintlock mechanism is still complex in structure, all parts look perfectly fitted and finely polished, no longer having the rough and burr-like feel of before.

While its overall appearance may not match the simplicity and precision of the Ming army's standard flintlock muskets, it possesses a sense of weight and "newly made" refinement. In fact, to please their superiors, the craftsmen deliberately added some extra embellishments to certain decorative details, making it appear even more "magnificent" than the Ming army's at first glance.

Dai Shan's surprise stemmed more from the excitement of "a long-cherished wish being fulfilled" and the deep memory of the nightmare of the battlefield.

He experienced firsthand the power of the Ming army's flintlock muskets on the Korean front.

That thing had an astonishing rate of fire and a dense barrage of bullets. Often, before the Qing cavalry could even reach the range of the arrows, they would be tossed about by the rain of bullets.

Many valiant Bayara fell beneath those seemingly inconspicuous gun barrels that spewed white smoke and fire.

This thing became a thorn in his side, and a "demon weapon" that Qing generals feared to even mention.

Now, seeing that his own people also possessed similar weapons, even though they were merely imitations, the resemblance still made his heart pound and an indescribable surge of excitement welled up within him—the Qing Dynasty, finally, also possessed such a powerful weapon?!

"This...this is a successfully replicated flintlock musket?"

Daishan's voice trembled slightly. Before Dorgon could reach out, he almost instinctively grabbed the gun closest to him from the tray, gripping it tightly with both hands as if to feel its weight and reality.

The cool touch came from his palm. He looked down and examined it closely, his fingers brushing over the barrel and mechanism, his face full of emotion and complexity.

"Good stuff... truly good stuff! Our Qing warriors have suffered countless losses and shed much blood over this thing before! Now... we finally have it too!"

His tone conveyed both heartache for past losses and a strong desire and excitement to master such a powerful weapon.

Seeing this, Dorgon smiled slightly, calmly picked up another pistol, weighed it in his hand, skillfully checked the hammer and trigger, and said to Daishan with a tone of pride and reminiscence:
“Brother Wang, you may not know this, but the success of this project is due to the foresight of the late Emperor. Before he left, the late Emperor secretly ordered that no expense be spared in obtaining the secret of the Ming army’s firearms. For this, our Great Qing planned several times, spent huge sums of money, and even lost many good spies, before we were able to obtain a few samples from the Ming Kingdom.”

"After that, Mr. Fan was put in charge of the replication process. The hardships and failures along the way are too numerous to recount, and the money and materials spent amounted to millions. Only today has it been presented to Brother Wang in this form. It was truly not easy!"

His words not only elevated the achievements of the late Huang Taiji, but also highlighted the difficulty and huge investment required for the imitation, and further linked the credit to himself.

Upon hearing this, Daishan nodded repeatedly, stroking the musket in his hand, and sighed:

"The late Emperor was wise! This money was well spent! Absolutely worth it! With this, the warriors of our Great Qing will be even more powerful. When facing the Ming army again, we will no longer have to rely solely on our flesh and blood to charge through their fire nets!"

He sincerely admired Huang Taiji's decision and also acknowledged that such a huge investment was necessary.

Dai Shan played with the flintlock pistol with great interest, trying to pull the hammer and fire the trigger, but he was clearly not very familiar with how to operate it. After fiddling with it for a while, he couldn't quite get the hang of it.

Seeing this, Fan Wencheng, who was standing to the side, quickly stepped forward, bowed, and said:
"Your Highnesses, the wonders of this weapon cannot be fully appreciated by mere sight. I have already ordered preparations to be made at the firing range, and have selected six skilled firearms officers to demonstrate the power of this gun and the new combat tactics practiced by our Qing warriors. Please come to the firing range and inspect it for yourselves."

"Oh? There's even a battle tactics demonstration? Excellent! Brother Wang, let's go take a look!"

Dorgon was even more interested, and he was equally curious about the actual effectiveness of the gun.

"Exactly what I want!"

Daishan nodded in agreement, eager to see for himself whether this replica was as powerful as the Ming army's. Thus, led by Fan Wencheng, Dorgon and Daishan, surrounded by guards, arrived at the special firing range in the backyard of the Imperial Workshop.

The firing range now looks completely different from the mess it was in when the barrel exploded last time.

The ground was leveled, and several straw targets draped in cotton armor were erected in the distance.

Most notably, in the center of the field, six Qing army firearmsmen, dressed in blue-bordered cotton armor and with solemn expressions, had already lined up.

They did not stand randomly, but were divided into two rows of three, staggered in front and behind, forming a simple yet well-organized battle formation.

There is enough space between them to ensure the firing angle and facilitate rotation.

Dorgon and Daišan were both seasoned warriors, and they immediately recognized the significance of the formation—it was clearly imitating the "volley fire" tactic commonly used by the Ming army's firearms units!
That is, after the front rank fires, they retreat to reload, and then the rear rank moves forward to continue firing, thus maintaining continuous firepower.

The Ming army took advantage of the high rate of fire of their flintlock muskets to the extreme, inflicting heavy casualties on the Qing cavalry.

It seems that the Qing army not only copied firearms, but also "borrowed" the mature firearm tactics of the Ming army.

Seeing this familiar formation that had caused him so much trouble, Dai Shan's eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he relaxed and even showed a hint of approval.

War is a matter of life and death, so good tactics should be learned, regardless of their origin. Any method that can defeat the enemy is a good method.

"Mr. Fan has made thorough preparations."

Dorgon smiled and nodded to Fan Wencheng, clearly quite satisfied with this "borrowing" approach.

Fan Wencheng quickly replied modestly:

"This servant is merely imitating what is being done; the Ming army's methods certainly have merit. Please, Your Highnesses, watch the performance."

All eyes were focused on the six soldiers wielding brand-new replica flintlock muskets and the targets in front of them.

Fan Wencheng took a deep breath, suppressing his anxiety, and turned to Dorgon and Daišan beside him, respectfully asking for instructions:
"Your Highness Regent, Your Highness Prince Li, may we begin the demonstration?"

Dorgon's gaze was fixed on the gleaming gun barrels. He nodded and said briefly and forcefully:
"let's start!"

"Whoo!"

Fan Wencheng responded, then turned around and shouted loudly at the six soldiers:

"Ready—Fire!"

"Crack-click-"

As soon as the order was given, the six soldiers sprang into action like wound-up machines.

Although their movements were still somewhat clumsy and stiff compared to those of well-trained Ming Dynasty archers, they already had a clear division of labor and steps.

The soldiers at the front immediately raised their guns and aimed, while the soldiers behind them quickly took out horn medicine bottles, lead bullet bags, and cleaning rods from their waist pouches and began loading their spare guns.

"Bang bang! Bang bang bang!"

Almost simultaneously, the soldier in front pulled the trigger.

The flint strikes the steel sickle, sparking a flame that ignites the priming powder in the powder bath, which in turn ignites the propellant in the gun barrel.

Dull explosions echoed across the firing range, as gun barrels spewed out several feet of orange-red flames and thick white smoke, instantly filling the air with the pungent smell of sulfur.

The bullet whistled out of the barrel and shot toward the target in the distance.

Seeing the flintlock mechanism fire successfully, the gunshot rang out, and the smoke rose, Dorgon's eyes suddenly flashed with an uncontrollable excitement. His body involuntarily leaned forward, his fists clenched, and his mouth grinned, almost as if he was about to cheer on the spot!

It worked! It really fired! And several shots in a row, without a single misfire! This was a world of difference from the horrific barrel explosion he had witnessed last time!
For a moment, he seemed to see thousands of Eight Banner warriors, armed with such powerful weapons, forming a tight array of firearms, and utterly defeating the arrogant Ming cavalry!
A glint of surprise flashed in Dai Shan's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a deeper scrutiny.

He was a veteran of many battles and was extremely sensitive to the sounds of firearms, the density of gunpowder smoke, and even the whistling of bullets piercing the air.

He keenly noticed that the gunshot sound seemed slightly more muffled and diffused than the explosion of the Ming army's flintlock muskets, and the smoke was also thicker and more pungent.

More importantly, his gaze was fixed on the straw man target thirty paces away.

After a rapid burst of fire, the results were quickly apparent.

A total of about thirty lead bullets were fired, but the newly added bullet holes on the six straw targets were sparse.

At a glance, only about half of the bullets hit the target area; the rest either went far off course, hitting the earthen slope behind the target and kicking up a trail of dust, or simply flew off into the unknown.

Even those that did hit were quite scattered and completely inaccurate, a far cry from the concentrated killing effect of the Ming army's flintlock muskets at the same or even greater distances.

Fan Wencheng kept his eyes glued to the shooting process, silently counting in his mind.

When he saw another soldier fire his seventh shot, the gun visibly vibrating more violently and the muzzle smoke turning somewhat black, his heart tightened, and he quickly shouted again:

"Stop! Cease fire! Check your weapons!"

The shooting stopped abruptly.

The soldiers stopped as ordered, and the front-line soldiers quickly checked the barrel temperature and used a cleaning rod to check if the chamber was clear.

Fan Wencheng secretly breathed a sigh of relief; thankfully, the call to stop was timely.

According to the craftsmen's experience, after firing ten times in a row, the new guns would exhibit problems such as barrel overheating and mechanical fatigue, leading to a sharp increase in the risk of barrel explosion.

He dared not gamble with the one in ten thousand chance of safety in front of the two princes, so he called a halt early on.

The shooting demonstration ended in this somewhat rushed and "unfinished" atmosphere.

The total number of shots fired was only about thirty, and the duration was less than two minutes. (End of Chapter)