Sweep Yuan

Chapter 195 The Offensive is Like a Tide, Terrifying the Enemy

On the Sui River, a brief but fierce battle had just ended. The local militia attempting to block the Red Turban Army's crossing were routed and fled in panic. The victorious soldiers, however, did not rush to pursue them, but quickly guided their comrades and equipment ashore.

Not far from the north bank, on the low earthen and wooden walls of Xiaozhangzhai, shadowy figures of panicked villagers crowded together.

"What do we do... what do we do? The bandits have really crossed the river!" A young villager's voice trembled as he gripped the rough edge of the stockade wall so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He stared at the dense mass of red headscarves surging towards the river, his legs shaking uncontrollably.

"Should we send someone else to ask for help?"

A weathered old man next to him spat out a mouthful of muddy saliva, his eyes filled with numbness and resignation.

"What reinforcements? Are you deaf? Yesterday afternoon, as soon as the rebel army set up camp on the south bank, didn't the commander send someone to the northern camp to request reinforcements?"

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, feeling increasingly agitated.

"If the higher-ups were willing to send reinforcements, they would already be on their way. What good are we lowly minions thinking? Let's just focus on guarding the stronghold!"

"But...but I'm not at ease. You all saw it, that bandit general was incredibly brave and fierce. He went to the riverbank to block the bandit army, but he couldn't hold out for even half a quarter of an hour before being scattered."

"Tch!" The old soldier suppressed his fear and curled his lip in mock disdain.

"That's because there were too few people. A few hundred people think they can stop the main force of the bandits? That's like throwing eggs against a rock! They're asking for death!"

“But…but in our village, we only have seven hundred at most—” The young villager tried to argue, but was interrupted by the whistling of a few whips.

Snapped!Snapped!Snapped!
The whip lashed fiercely against the wooden planks of the village wall, and also struck the backs of several whispering villagers, leaving stinging, bloody welts.

A burly village militia leader, his bloodshot eyes glaring menacingly at the top of the wall.

"Shut up, all of you! The enemy army is about to attack the city. If you don't want to die, open your eyes wide and grip your weapons tightly!"

He brandished his whip, spitting in the faces of those nearby.

"What are you afraid of! The bandits may look numerous, but it's all a facade! We have our fortified walls and our weapons! As long as we hold out, once the reinforcements from the northern camp arrive, we can attack from both inside and outside, and these reckless traitors will surely lose their heads one by one."

The leader's chest heaved violently as he tried to suppress his inner panic by raising his voice.

"If any of you dare to gossip and undermine morale again, Grandpa won't be giving you any more whippings!"

The whipping could temporarily quell the villagers' discussions, but it could not suppress their panic.

When Li Xixi's troops crossed the Sui River and reached the foot of the stockade wall, they began to attack the city using the simple siege weapons they had made the day before. The local militia, who were inexperienced in battle, were shocked to discover that the same weapons were completely ineffective when used by different people.

In a crossbow duel, the defending side should have the advantage due to their terrain.

However, the local militia archers on the stockade walls were few in number, and their fingers were stiff and their breathing rapid due to fear. Before the Red Turban Army could even get close, some militiamen screamed and fired arrows haphazardly. The sparse arrows landed several feet away from the Red Turban Army's formation, causing no damage whatsoever.

In contrast, Li Xixi's elite siege troops, while not exactly obedient, were far more courageous. More importantly, they were better equipped, with archers making up a much larger proportion of the local militia.

At the officer's deep command, they silently raised their large shields covered with raw cowhide, ignoring the occasional stray arrows flying overhead, and steadily continued to approach the city wall. Taking advantage of the brief lull in the defenders' panicked firing, they opened their shield formation and began to counterattack.

"put!"

At a command, over a hundred powerful arrows, whistling sharply, hurtled towards the crenellations of the stockade wall.

puff!

what--!
Blood splattered on the wall! Screams echoed everywhere.

In this round of shooting, the difference in skill was immediately apparent!

The first volley of arrows from the defending army only caused minor injuries to the two Red Turban soldiers in the front row, who were quickly dragged back behind their shields by their comrades.

The Red Turban Army's counterattack caused seventeen or eighteen soldiers to fall from the stockade wall, their blood quickly staining the wooden planks beneath them.

That's how it is on the battlefield: the more afraid you are of death, the faster you die; the more fearless you are, the more likely you are to gain a chance of survival.

After firing only two sparse volleys of arrows, the local militia archers were terrified by their "huge" casualties. The survivors lay hidden behind the battlements, refusing to show their faces no matter how much their leader kicked and cursed them.

The village militia leader, who had nearly been shot, was quite frightened. Although he was still cursing, he didn't dare force his men to get up and die. He could only roar:

"Hide well, everyone hide well! When the bandits get close, throw stones! Throw logs! Save your arrows!"

"Break through the barrier! Break through the barrier quickly!"

Li Xixi, shielded by a large iron shield, stood not far behind the archers, two arrows still embedded in the shield. Taking advantage of the lull in the defenders' attack, he decisively ordered his soldiers to break through the antlers, chevaux-de-frise, and other barriers beneath the stockade walls.

Meanwhile, Xue Xian's troops had also launched an attack on a village about three miles to the east of Li Xixi's forces.

He took the lead, removing his cumbersome shirt to reveal his bulging muscles and crisscrossing old scars. Wearing only a worn-out iron armor, he wielded a heavy mountain-splitting axe, charging towards the barricades in front of the camp like a raging bear.

"Open it for Grandpa!"

Xue Xian roared and brought his giant axe down hard.

Click!

The rough wooden chevaux-de-frise broke instantly, sending wood chips flying everywhere.

When the local militia, holding the high ground of the fortress, were suppressed by the Red Turban Army's elite troops in terms of morale, equipment, and tactics, what remained was a contest of both sides' ability to withstand bloodshed and death.

In this respect, the veteran Red Turban Army soldiers who had fought bloody battles were clearly far superior to these temporarily conscripted local militiamen who were just trying to make a living.

Li Xixi and Xue Xian each commanded 3,000 troops. Apart from leaving some elite troops as reserves to vigilantly watch the northern horizon in case of a possible surprise attack by the main Yuan army, the rest of the soldiers were divided into several groups.

One group suppresses the enemy, another breaks through barriers, and several others stand by. As soon as there are casualties or exhaustion at the front, fresh troops from the rear immediately take their place, maintaining continuous and powerful pressure on the defending forces.

Despite constant harassment from the defenders with arrows and stones, the Red Turban Army made rapid progress.

Before long, a passage about two zhang wide was cleared, leading directly to the gate of the village.

"Get in the crash!"

Because the camp was built in a short time and during the hot summer, the camp structure hastily constructed by the local militia was very simple and thin. The walls were mostly made of rammed earth with wooden stakes, and the gate was just roughly made of logs. There was no need for specially made heavy battering rams.

A battering ram, made of thick logs fixed to a simple wooden frame, was pushed to the end of the passage by more than twenty strong men who shouted in unison. The heavy battering ram, with its front end covered with iron, was then rammed into the village gate.

"One, two! Ram!" The Red Turban Army centurion in charge of ramming the chariot roared with bloodshot eyes.

boom--!
The battering ram, carrying immense force, slammed into the center of the crudely constructed village gate. The tremendous impact made the entire wall tremble violently, sending wood chips and dust raining down. The gate groaned with a teeth-grinding creak.

The top bar behind the door seemed to be bending under the weight, and the soldiers on the wall felt a slight sway under their feet. Many of them screamed in fright and almost lost their footing.

"Fire arrows! Fire arrows now! Smash them! Smash them with stones!"

The militia leader was terrified, peering down from the crenellations and waving his arms wildly. The surviving militiamen on the wall, under the threat of death at the hands of the falling village, finally mustered a sliver of courage and peered down to shoot arrows and throw stones.

"We've been waiting for you! Release!"

Outside the stockade wall, the commander of the Red Turban Army responsible for providing cover gave an order, and his four hundred archers fired simultaneously, unleashing a dense rain of arrows upon the stockade wall.

Puff puff puff! Ahhh—!
At the same time, stones whistled down, hitting the thick wooden planks and shields on the top of the ram with dull thuds. Occasionally, an unlucky Red Turban soldier would be hit, and the sounds of bones cracking and screams of agony would rang out.

Arrows and stones crisscrossed the air, kicking up plumes of blood mist. The casualty figures on both sides began to climb rapidly at that moment.

The Red Turban Army, protected by shields and carts, was able to hold out; but the exposed defenders of the stockade walls fell in droves, like harvested wheat.

On the stockade wall, screams and groans filled the air.

"Second team! Charge!"

Xue Xian gave the defenders no chance to catch their breath, and he couldn't bear to see the first elite team being continuously worn down in front of the village gate. The second fresh force, which had been prepared in advance, rushed into the dangerous area under the village gate like tigers released from their cages, and took the thick ropes from the hands of the first team of comrades.

"One, two! Charge!" A new shout rang out, carrying the spirit of not giving up until the stockade walls were breached.

boom--!
The central wooden beam of the gate had visibly caved in, cracks spreading like a spiderweb. The top bar behind the gate emitted a chilling cracking sound, and desperate cries echoed from behind it. The defending troops had suffered heavy casualties, yet they could not stop the determined Red Turban Army. The gate teetered on the brink of collapse, and reinforcements from the northern camp remained nowhere to be seen. As casualties mounted, fear and despair began to spread, and the local militia's counterattack grew weaker and weaker.

"One, two! Charge!" Beneath the stockade walls, the Red Turban Army had already seen hope of breaching the stockade, their roars shaking the heavens.

Boom! Crack!

With a loud crash and the groaning of breaking wood, the already overburdened gate was finally smashed open with a huge gap. Broken pieces of wood and twisted hinges flew everywhere, and the gap quickly widened under the destruction of the Red Turban Army.

"The door's broken! Charge in!"

The pent-up anger of the Red Turban Army soldiers, fueled by the tension and fear of their comrades' constant casualties, transformed into a primal urge to kill. They swarmed through the breach, hacking at anyone in sight.

The local militia were terrified; many jumped off the village wall and fled.

But where could they escape to in this small fortified village? These poor wretches who turned their backs to the enemy were quickly caught up by the surging Red Turban Army, cut down on the ground, and the camp soon became a bloody slaughterhouse.

"Who the hell is pulling my leg like that!"

Xue Xianzheng was caught up in the killing frenzy, his spear moving like a venomous dragon emerging from its lair. He had just pierced through a local militia leader who was trying to organize a resistance when he swung the spear and sent the body flying.

Suddenly, he felt his armor being pulled forcefully. He turned his head sharply, his eyes, like copper bells, were bloodshot and red. His face was covered in splattered blood and brain matter, making him look even more ferocious. He opened his mouth to curse, but saw that the one who had pulled him was Mao Gui, who had a calm expression.

"Manager! Stop! Time is of the essence!"

Mao Gui's voice was soft, but he spoke very quickly as he explained:
"Let's take a short break, then we need to keep cracking open the rest of the turtle shells! We can't afford to delay!"

"Hey!"

Xue Xian regained some of his senses, vigorously wiped the sticky blood from his face, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth, and smiled:

"I was having so much fun killing that I almost forgot about this!"

He abruptly turned his head and roared like thunder at his subordinates who were still frantically chasing down the fleeing soldiers and looting their belongings:

"Stop it, you bastards! Stop hacking! Disarm and you're safe! Kneel down and you're safe!"

"Disarm and you will not be killed! Kneel down and you will not be killed!"

Surrender and you'll be spared!

The commander's orders and the shouts of his personal guards spread quickly. The villagers, who had been terrified, were relieved as if they had been granted a pardon. They dropped their hoes, broken knives, and wooden sticks, knelt down, kowtowed repeatedly, and cried out for mercy.

The killing within the camp gradually subsided, leaving only the groans of the wounded and the sobs of the prisoners.

As soon as the battle ended, Mao Gui demonstrated the efficiency and composure of an excellent deputy. He ordered some men to quickly gather the prisoners and command them to squat in a neat formation; others were to inventory the captured provisions and rudimentary weapons.

He himself, along with a few personal guards, dragged the ashen-faced village militia leader to a corner and interrogated him urgently.

Time is of the essence; they need concrete intelligence to guide their next move.

At the same time, Xue Xian suppressed his bloodlust and began to order his men to take stock of the casualties, treat their wounded, and order his soldiers to rest as soon as possible—the next fierce battle could come at any time.

The interrogation results came out quickly, and they were basically consistent with Mao Gui's previous deductions:

The Yuan army did indeed construct two lines of defense on the north bank of the Sui River. The first line consisted of approximately 8,600 local militia. About six miles behind them, the second line of defense was manned by approximately 9,000 regular Yuan soldiers, who were better equipped and more capable in combat.

In this battle, Xue Xian's troops launched a fierce attack on the enemy's stronghold, but also paid a considerable price.

A preliminary count revealed 29 dead, 63 wounded (both light and serious), and approximately 400 enemy soldiers killed, most of whom were killed in the massacre after the gates of the stronghold were breached.

In the end, more than 300 local militiamen were captured. Those prisoners who were too badly wounded to move were executed by Xue Xian's soldiers, which reduced the number of prisoners by more than 30—they had neither the time nor the manpower to take care of these burdens.

Because they needed to quickly move on to the next target, Xue Xian adopted Mao Gui's suggestion. He divided the remaining prisoners into two groups and drove them to the next camp to persuade the garrison to surrender.

Knowing that the main force of the Yuan army was just a few miles away, the garrison in the village naturally had no intention of surrendering. However, the pitiful appearance of these prisoners crying and wailing, as well as their descriptions of the horrific scene of "breaking into the village and massacring the enemy," effectively demoralized the garrison.

Xue Xian didn't let the prisoners waste too much time. Seeing that the garrison refused to surrender, he immediately led his troops to attack the camp.

The battle to capture the stronghold resumed, but this time the troops breaking through the barriers and filling the trenches were no longer Red Turban soldiers, but local militia from the previous stronghold. With these prisoners who could be "consumed at will" leading the charge, Xue Xian's offensive became even more ferocious.

The garrison in this village, having witnessed the horrific scene of friendly prisoners being driven to their deaths, was already terrified and their morale was low.

Faced with the long-awaited and fierce attack of Xue Xian's Red Turban Army, the resistance became even more powerless. In less than half an hour, the camp was already on the verge of collapse, and the gate began to deform and shatter under the continuous impact of the Red Turban Army's battering rams.

On the north bank of the Sui River, the central command tent of the Yuan army's second line of defense.

"Report! Elm Tree Village is in dire need of help! The enemy's offensive is fierce, and the village walls have been breached in many places. We can't hold out much longer!"

"Report! Ueda Village... Ueda Village has been breached by the enemy!"

"Report! The enemy army has besieged Shengjia Village!"

"Report—!..."

Within two hours of the Red Turban Army crossing the river, messengers from the front lines arrived one after another, each more urgent and desperate than the last.

"Lord Wan, we can't wait any longer!"

A commander with a full beard suddenly knelt on one knee, clasped his hands in a fist and said urgently.

"Send troops! If we don't send troops to rescue them, the local militia in those camps will have no choice but to surrender when they see no hope of reinforcements! If the first line of defense falls like this, the enemy army will take advantage of their great victory and rush straight to our camp, and we will be at a disadvantage!"

"Yes, Commander Wan! Reinforcements are needed as quickly as possible!" The other generals echoed, and the tent was filled with voices urging for battle.

Zeng Wanhu, whose face was dark with anger, turned his head to look north towards Xuzhou, where there was still no movement. The second line of defense was to cover the first line of defense, but who would cover the second line of defense?
Yesterday afternoon, when reports came from the front that the Red Turban Army had appeared on the south bank of the Sui River, Zeng Wanhu immediately sent a messenger to the rear commander, Daermashili, to report the rebel army's movements and request the governor to send reinforcements as soon as possible to strengthen the Sui River defense line.

Daerma Shili's reply was simply, "Hold the line and intercept the enemy," eight words that sounded light and casual.

hold fast?

What can we use to defend it?

Nine thousand men guarding a defensive line stretching for dozens of miles?
Intercepting and killing? The main force of the rebel army crossed the river with great momentum. Who was intercepting and killing whom?
Zeng Wanhu felt a burning rage within him, yet he had nowhere to vent it. The bandit army's fierce offensive and resolute will to die displayed today far exceeded his expectations, and the ominous premonition in his heart was even more difficult to suppress.

However, the military situation was dire, and the front line was on the verge of collapse. As the commander of the defense line, Zeng Wanhu could no longer hesitate. Just as his subordinates had said, if the first line of defense was breached too quickly, even the main camp of his army would not be able to be held.

The man finally made up his mind, his voice dry and heavy:
"Send another messenger to tell the Imperial Censor that the rebel army's offensive is extremely fierce, and the Suishui defense line is in imminent danger. If no reinforcements arrive, the defense line may be lost."

He took a deep breath and turned his gaze to the bearded commander.

"I'm giving you two thousand elite infantrymen. Make sure you guard the camp well!"

"As long as we are here, the camp will stand!"

On the north bank of the Sui River, Xue Xian's troops have already established a rhythm, having successively captured two enemy camps, and are now attacking the third camp.

Watching the captured villagers, forced by swords and spears, crying and howling as they cleared the obstacles in front of the village, enduring arrows shot from the village walls and stones thrown down by their fellow villagers, Xue Xian grinned, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth, and laughed:

"Hahaha! Those monstrous Tartars always like to drive us Han Chinese to be the first to fill in the city walls. It's so satisfying to watch others pave the way and get stabbed without having to send our own brothers to their deaths! It's so damn satisfying!"

"Um?!"

Xue Xian's laughter stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowed sharply, and he turned his gaze to the north, where he saw a plume of dust, like a giant, earthen-yellow dragon, rolling in along the horizon.

"Yuan Gou... reinforcements have finally arrived?!"

The sinister smile on Xue Xian's face was instantly replaced by a solemn expression, and he roared:
"Sound the retreat! Quickly! Have the brothers attacking the camp withdraw! Form ranks! Prepare for battle!"

……

P.S.: It would be more appropriate to combine today's two chapters into one big chapter, but it will probably be very late by the time I finish writing it all, and everyone will probably be impatient, so I'll just post one chapter first.

(End of this chapter)