The Revolt of the Three Feudatories: All-in at the start in Beijing

Eight hundred tin cans, each over 1.75 meters tall, marched in orderly fashion from the beach.

They wore cloth armor weighing thirty pounds, with an outer layer of iron plates riveted to coarse cloth and an inner layer of chainmail rings of various sizes. From helmets to throat guards to shoulder guards to breastplates to thighs, everything was covered in iron plates.

As they walked, each step left a deep footprint in the sand. Leading the group was a centurion, who was a full 1.85 meters tall. He carried not a goose-feather saber, but a heavy spear that was twelve feet long, with a shaft as thick as a wrist.

He stood next to Ma Sandao, glanced at the Japanese samurai charging towards him, and involuntarily curled his lips downwards.

"Are they really that tall?" the centurion asked.

The centurion wasn't being sarcastic, because before coming to the Japanese islands, he thought that even if Japanese samurai were short, they would be short, strong, and brave. But the men at the front only reached his chest.

"It's this group of people," Ma Sandao said.

"I'm going to take on ten of them today!"

After the centurion finished speaking, he pointed his spear forward, and the eight hundred heavily armored infantrymen simultaneously lowered their spear shafts and began to jog.

The two sides were very close, and when they collided, the difference in distance was so great that even Ma Sandao had not expected it.

As soon as the spears of the Han army's heavy armor soldiers thrust out, the bamboo armor of the Japanese samurai was pierced through like paper, and the first few high-ranking samurai were pierced through at the same time.

When the Japanese samurai's swords struck the Han army's cloth-covered iron armor, the cloth was cut, leaving a white mark and a small dent in the iron plate, but the chainmail inside remained intact, and the blades couldn't even touch the flesh.

A high-ranking samurai, wielding his sword with all his might, slashed at the shoulder armor of a heavily armored soldier, breaking the katana in two on the spot.

The centurion charged ahead alone, swinging his heavy spear like a club, sweeping around and felling a whole group of men.

His spear bent after piercing two Japanese samurai. He threw the spear to the ground and drew two short-handled maces from his back.

The iron mace was a hammer, with a cast iron head as big as a bowl, and the surface of the hammer was covered with protruding iron lumps. He smashed the hammer with his left hand into the chest of a high-ranking warrior, and the warrior's saddle plate was dented into a fist-deep crater.

He slammed his right hammer down on the shoulder of a lower-ranking samurai, causing half of the shoulder to collapse and the sound of his collarbone breaking was heard even by those nearby.

Ma Sandao didn't follow the heavy infantry charge. He searched for Soga Shigehiro in the crowd. Soga Shigehiro didn't hide either. This middle-aged man, who was less than 1.6 meters tall, was standing in the middle of a group of high-ranking samurai, holding his katana with both hands. The blade was already stained with blood, not from the Han army, but from himself.

When the spear came at him, he dodged to the side. The spearhead grazed his left rib, scraping off a piece of his armor plate. His shirt underneath was torn, exposing the skin and flesh around his ribs, and blood seeped out from the gaps in the armor plate.

Unexpectedly, even ordinary Han soldiers were so capable. Soga Shigehiro gripped his sword tighter, aiming the tip at Ma Sandao, who was walking towards him.

Ma Sandao carried his goose-feather saber and walked towards him, unbuttoning his collar as he went, as it was getting a little hot.

He looked down at Soga Shigehiro, while Soga Shigehiro looked up at him, with a height difference of nearly 30 centimeters between them.

Soga Shigehiro made the first move, stepping forward with his sword in both hands. He slashed diagonally from the lower right to the upper left with great speed. Ma Sandao did not block, but only took half a step back, the blade grazing past his throat guard.

Soga Shigehiro's second strike followed immediately with a horizontal slash, targeting Ma Sandao's waist. This time, Ma Sandao didn't retreat; instead, he lowered his goose-feather saber, and the two swords clashed. Explore the infinite possibilities of historical fiction, all at p>

With a clang, Soga Shigeyasu's katana was jolted out of his hand, flying out and embedding itself in the sand. The hilt was still humming. His hand was split open, and blood was flowing down his wrist.

Soga Shigehiro looked down at his empty hands, then looked up at Ma Sandao.

He didn't pick up the knife, nor did he step back. He just stood there, his lips moved, and he whispered something.

Ma Sandao didn't understand Japanese very well, but it didn't matter. He took the first strike with a backhand slash, his goose-feather blade slashing diagonally down from his left shoulder. Soga Shigeyasu's head flew off his neck, tumbled halfway in the air, and rolled twice on the beach. The broken corner of his crescent-shaped helmet stuck in the sand.

He stood for a moment, then his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, his full armor plates scattering with a whoosh.

Ma Sandao bent down, picked up the head, walked to the centurion's side, and thrust the head into the tip of his heavy spear. The spear tip pierced through the neck and came out from the top of the head. Soga Shigehiro's face was facing the remaining Japanese samurai, his eyes still open.

"I, Chongtai, am dead!" Ma Sandao's voice boomed across the entire beach. "Those who lay down their knives will be spared!"

A lower-ranking samurai threw his sword to the ground, then a second, then a third, like dominoes, spreading from the back row to the front.

Several high-ranking warriors wanted to continue charging, but when they looked back, they saw that everyone behind them had put down their swords. They stood there alone, cursed a couple of times, and then threw their swords away as well.

In the distance, amidst a pile of rubble, Yamamoto Kazuo poked half his head out. He had just witnessed Soga Shigeyasu's head being chopped off by the burly man who stood 1.8 meters tall, and then stuck into the tip of a spear and held up.

His legs went weak, and he squatted back down into the pile of rocks, covering his mouth with his sleeve and desperately trying to suppress his trembling teeth. He looked down at his pants, thankfully they were still dry, they were almost soaked!

He closed his eyes and gasped for breath several times, then stood up, threw the katana on the ground, tidied his disheveled hair with his hands, patted the sand off his knees, and walked step by step toward the beach.

Behind him followed a group of foot soldiers whom he had regrouped after their earlier rout.

These foot soldiers, who had been hiding in the pile of rocks and dared not come out, followed timidly when they saw Yamamoto Kazuo emerge.

Yamamoto Kazuo walked up to Ma Sandao, bent his knees and knelt on the sand with his forehead touching the ground, raising his katana above his head with both hands.

"Yamamoto Kazuo is willing to lead your horse, sir!" His Chinese was broken and heavily accented with Japanese, but the meaning was clear: "Yamamoto Kazuo will obey you, sir! Whatever you say, Yamamoto will do!"

Ma Sandao looked down at the short man kneeling in the sand. Before he could speak, Xu Chuang, who had just jumped onto the beach from the small boat, strode over.

Xu Chuang looked down at Yamamoto Kazuo kneeling on the ground, then glanced around and saw a large group of Japanese samurai and foot soldiers kneeling on the beach.

"They've surrendered already?" A general, seeing this, couldn't help but say with a look of disdain.

Xu Chuang did not answer. He recalled what Liu Mu had said in the Hall of Mental Cultivation before he set off: "The Japanese are rather despicable. Only by defeating them and even crippling them will they know what is right and wrong."

He didn't quite understand it then, but now, standing on this beach filled with kneeling people, he understands.

So he said something.

"Maybe it's because I'm cheap!"

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