Global colonization began with Ming Dynasty pirates.

The rout of the surrendered soldiers caused a slight commotion within the Eight Banners ranks, but it was quickly suppressed by the shouts of the officers.

This was originally part of the plan; the only purpose of these surrendered soldiers was to use their bodies to deplete the enemy's ammunition and act as mobile human shields.

Eighty paces—this distance is not the most lethal range of the Qing bow, but it is enough to cover the enemy's formation.

Degelai gave the order to speed up the advance, and the Eight Banners soldiers began to quicken their pace. At the same time, some archers drew light arrows from their quivers and began to hurl them diagonally upwards.

Arrows streaked across the gray sky, falling like a swarm of locusts towards the Dongning Army's position.

Eshuo walked in the ranks with bloodshot eyes. Even with the surrendered soldiers in the front row providing cover, his regiment had already lost more than a dozen men in the previous advance.

Seven men died on the spot, and the rest were also seriously injured. Even if they survived by chance, they were destined to lose limbs and would never be able to return to the battlefield.

These were his true assets, each a battle-hardened elite, yet they were easily torn apart by the enemy's artillery.

He raised his longbow and fired at the figure still operating the cannon in the distance.

Those gunners were so audacious that he couldn't understand them; they didn't retreat even though his side had gotten so close.

The arrow struck a gunner squarely in the abdomen, and he fell with a groan, but before he collapsed, he still managed to bring the torch in his hand to the cannon's firing port.

boom!

The three-pound cannon was filled with lead bullets, and at extremely close range, it sprayed a deadly rain of iron.

No more surrendered soldiers stood in their way; the Eight Banners soldiers withstood the blow with their own flesh and blood. Screams filled the air, and the front-line taxi drivers shrank back like wheat swept by a sickle.

Despite harassment by skirmishers, nine of the enemy's sixteen three-pounder cannons were still able to fire.

This volley of fire instantly caused over a hundred casualties among the Later Jin army. The front ranks shook violently, and many people hastily fired their arrows in fear, with far less accuracy and power than before. A dense swarm of arrows flew haphazardly towards the Dongning army's position.

In their panic, their rate of fire actually increased, but the strength in their arms was being rapidly depleted with each arrow.

The Dongning Army's forward positions were covered with a dense barrage of arrows, and the ground was studded with arrow shafts, like a patch of withered grass that had suddenly sprung up.

The flintlock musketeers in the front ranks kept falling, hit by arrows, and were then dragged to the back of the line by the arriving medics.

The taxi drivers in the back row silently stepped forward to fill the gap. They wore helmets and half-body armor, which offered some protection against arrows, but as the distance closed, casualties inevitably began to rise.

Wang Guangcai lowered his helmet slightly to block the arrow aimed at his face. With a clang, an arrow struck his helmet, the impact causing the rim to tilt slightly. He didn't bother to reach up to steady it, but instead focused on completing the final step of reloading.

The first volley was completed at eighty paces, by which time the enemy had closed to within sixty paces.

In just thirty seconds, his company completed the second round of loading.

This annoyed Wang Guangcai. Normally, when training with these paper-based fixed-load ammunition, he could complete a reloading in as little as ten seconds, but with the interference of the rain of arrows, this time was doubled.

boom!

Even faster than the flintlock muskets were the three-pound cannons in front, which had now completed another round of firing.

As the distance decreased, the artillery's destructive power increased further, and at the same time, the gunners standing ten paces in front of the front-line infantry also suffered the most intense attacks.

Just as the cannon in the first company finished firing, a loader braved the oncoming hail of arrows and stuffed an entire bag of shotgun ammunition into the breech.

This type of shot also uses fixed ammunition, which is wrapped in a cylindrical shape. The front end contains a large number of lead bullets, and the rear end contains propellant, which can greatly shorten the loading time.

Under normal circumstances, the rate of fire of a three-pound bronze cannon is about three rounds per minute, and it may even drop to one round per minute during prolonged firing. After each firing, the barrel must be cleaned with a mop to cool it down and remove any residue.

However, the loader skipped the cleaning process and increased the rate of fire to four rounds per minute.

This was an extremely risky move. The excessively high temperature in the gun barrel could cause the gunpowder to ignite prematurely, which would be tantamount to playing with one's life for the loader.

Just as the cannon was about to be reloaded, the Jurchen archers on the other side went berserk and concentrated their fire on him.

Just as the loader picked up the push rod to pack the gunpowder, a heavy arrow pierced through the air and instantly penetrated the armor on his shoulder.

His body was suddenly pushed by a strong force, and a sharp pain shot through his left shoulder, almost causing him to fall over.

He gritted his teeth, pressed the lever down twice more to compact the gunpowder pack, then threw the lever away and stumbled toward the back of the cannon guard.

Before he could fully dodge, a second armor-piercing arrow flew in, this time piercing through his chainmail and visor, penetrating deeper into his flesh than the arrow that had struck his shoulder.

The loader stumbled and fell to the ground, but fortunately, the cushioning of the two layers of armor saved his life. He crawled on his hands and feet behind the protective plate.

The three-pound cannon roared, and hundreds of lead bullets shot out, tearing a bloody gap in the Later Jin formation once again.

At the same time, the sound of swan trumpets rang out from the Dongning army formation, and all the gunners immediately lowered their bodies.

More than two thousand muskets fired in three tiers in succession, the thunderous roar shaking the ground.

The Later Jin lines, which had just been ravaged by artillery fire, were instantly wiped out as if sliced ​​by a scythe. Rows of soldiers fell down in neat rows, and a large section of the front ranks was swept away in the blink of an eye.

The only saving grace was that the thick smoke obscured their vision, and the second volley was significantly less effective than the first; otherwise, the Later Jin army would probably have been routed on the spot, just like the surrendered soldiers.

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A long gash was cut open on E'shuo's forehead by the shattered shield, and blood kept gushing out, blurring his vision and making him look as if he had been pulled out of a pool of blood.

The frantic shooting caused his right arm to throb, but he dared not stop.

He could only keep shooting arrows, using mechanical movements to suppress the ever-growing fear in his heart.

His regiment suffered heavy casualties, and he dared not think about the specific casualty figures, so he could only numb himself in this way.

The enemy's small cannons fired so quickly and fiercely that they left a deep impression on him.

Although the Ming army artillerymen they encountered in the past could cause considerable casualties, they would scatter and flee after being bombarded by arrows. Sometimes, they didn't even need to attack; the cannons would explode on their own, which would scramble them to their feet.

But these gunners were completely fearless, loading their cannons under a hail of arrows as if the arrows he fired were just an insignificant drizzle.

The infantry formations that stood rooted to the spot like wooden stakes sent chills down E Shuo's spine.

Normally, when dealing with the Ming army, harassment by scattered soldiers was enough to loosen the enemy's formation; when the Later Jin soldiers advanced to eighty paces and began to hurl arrows, the Ming army would begin to fall into chaos; when they got closer to thirty paces and used heavy arrows to kill them one by one, the Ming army would usually collapse completely, and all that was left was to chase down the fleeing soldiers with broadswords and spears.

He knew this pattern by heart, and the Ming soldiers who had lost their courage didn't dare to turn back. Sometimes he could chase after dozens of Ming soldiers by himself and kill them as easily as chasing rabbits.

But this time, everything is different.

From the very beginning of the battle, the enemy maintained a firm advantage in long-range firepower, systematically reaping lives with artillery and muskets.

The scattered troops and scouts sent out were held back, and the cavalry may have gained the upper hand because he could feel that the firing rate of the enemy's large-caliber cannons was gradually decreasing.

But this does not change the reality that they fell in rows like wheat being harvested.

Their own arrows also inflicted casualties on the enemy. E'shuo clearly saw that at least a hundred people had fallen in the enemy ranks, but the deep blue line of defense did not waver in the slightest. It was like a precise and ruthless machine, operating silently and devouring all the lives that collided with it.

"Taiji! We can't fight like this!" Sangguji grabbed Degelai's arm, his voice hoarse with anxiety. "We've only gone halfway, and we've already lost 30%! If we take two more rounds, the entire army will be wiped out here!"

Under normal circumstances, an ancient army would crumble and collapse after losing even 10% of its troops. It is almost a miracle that the Later Jin, a semi-slave-based army, has managed to hold out until now.

Sangguji knew in his heart that it wasn't because they were braver than other armies, but simply because they hadn't gotten used to defeat.

Long-range attacks are not as instinctively devastating as being stabbed in the face with a bayonet, so they can barely maintain their lines.

But if two more rounds come, everyone will inevitably collapse.

This distance, which used to be easily traversed like a picnic, has today become a bloody road paved with flesh and blood.

Sangguji wanted to say "retreat" rather than "continue the attack," but the strict discipline of the Eight Banners army made him suppress those two words in his heart.

Although he was Nurhaci's nephew, if he returned with heavy losses without even touching the enemy's face, he would be severely injured, if not killed.

Moreover, he still harbored a sliver of hope that perhaps these people were only good at firearms, and that once they engaged in hand-to-hand combat, their thin three-row formation would be no match for the Later Jin warriors' charge.

Since we're already on the verge of death, why not take a gamble and see if a miracle happens?

Deger swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he took a deep breath, trying to suppress the surging fear in his heart.

This young man in his twenties was facing such a scene for the first time. Since he went to war with his father and brothers, he had never tasted defeat. At this moment, he was somewhat flustered.

Hearing Sangguji's words, he nodded blankly, his voice hoarse: "I understand. Give the order: discard the shield carts and shields, charge at full speed."

The drumbeats of the Later Jin central army suddenly became rapid and heavy.

The taxi drivers in the front row dropped their shield carts, flung their shields aside, and roared like wild beasts as they began their final charge.