Colonial Era: From Remnants to European Dominator

"Shoulder-to-shoulder".

"A row of muskets!!"

"Second row, prepare; third row, follow up—"

Although Li Yuanheng didn't know much about artillery, he had seen some movies featuring lobster soldiers in his previous life, and he still had a deep memory of the famous "line-up shooting" of that period.

At the very least, the discipline of this Eagle Battalion's Third Company has been improved over the past few days. Just the way they walk side by side and the way they raise their guns is enough to earn them the title of "shrimp soldiers".

As the Kazakh swordsmen and shieldmen gradually approached, these young musketeers of the Third Squad still retained the instincts of archers from their early days, calmly aiming their guns at the Kazakh swordsmen who were not protected by shields and were only wearing a single layer of armor.

"shoot!!"

Unlike the firing of fire in later generations, Li Yuanheng's words were actually more of an order for archers. After all, in the current Eagle Division, the roles of archer and musketeer can be switched freely. The principle of "bows for guns, but men for men" was the founding principle of the army.

This was to ensure the greatest possible stability for the army during the transition from bows and arrows to firearms.

The dense barrage of bullets formed a wall of smoke in front of the column, within which screams of agony could be heard intermittently. By the time the first cloud of smoke cleared, the number of soldiers charging at the forefront had dwindled considerably. However, some of the unfortunate souls on the ground managed to get up again. Compared to those who had been hit head-on, they were lucky to be alive.

Wearing iron armor, he escaped the fatal wounds from the bullets.

The armor of this period was not entirely without resistance against firearms. For example, the plate armor that is now prevalent in Europe is primarily designed to withstand the impact of bullets and shrapnel. However, this only provides partial protection; if a vital organ is pierced, death is still inevitable.

The Kazakhs who continued their charge were not as fast as before, because anyone could see the complete volley of guns on the other side.

That's why Bart, who had been directing the troops from the center, pushed the Kazakh musketeers who were providing cover to the very front, intending to have a real duel between the locals and the enemy.

"What a thief!!"

For the first time, Lee Won-hyung looked at the other side with "respect," after all, this kind of bullet-on-bullet combat was the real test of courage.

"Load the bullets."

The loading process of a flintlock musket is very complicated. First, the opening on top is opened and gunpowder is poured in. Then, the bullet is inserted into the barrel. Finally, the push rod carried by the user is used to press it down. Only then can the user raise the musket, look straight ahead, and wait for the order to fire.

"shoot!!"

Another familiar plume of white smoke appeared, and then a group of Kazakh musketeers wearing breastplates fell down. At that moment, the first rank of musketeers who had finished firing immediately squatted down on the ground. The first thing they did after squatting down was to reload their ammunition according to the same procedure they had just done. Their position was blocked by the second rank behind them.

"shoot!!"

"Fire!!"

Two orders, though spoken in different languages ​​but with the same meaning, were issued simultaneously. Then came the ear-piercing volley of gunfire, the white smoke from which almost obscured the vision of both sides. When the smoke cleared slightly and visibility returned to normal, a number of corpses lay at the feet of both sides.

However, in terms of the number of deaths, the Kazakhs still suffered more. After all, as mercenaries, Tsarist Russia was neither a wealthy country nor a benevolent one; the breastplates they were given were barely enough to protect them. If they were to reach the level of elite Eastern European armies, even the Tsar of St. Petersburg would have to say:

"A bunch of stray dogs they recruited dare to ask me for money? Even the dogs I keep at home aren't treated this well!!"

The Kazakh musketeers were having a tough time, but the third team wasn't much better off. The Kazakhs on the other side had at least fought a few proper volley fire exchanges. Although their training was severely lacking due to those damned Cossacks hoarding ammunition, they had seen how the tactics that only those beasts could come up with to execute in a volley were carried out, and they had even participated in them themselves. So their experience was definitely stronger than that of the third team on the other side, who had been converted from archers. In just a few movements, they re-formed a dense formation and pointed their guns forward again.

Meanwhile, Li Yuanheng, who had been in command, brandished his sword once more. The remaining musketeers of his third squad, though not as densely packed as before, maintained their firing stance for the third round.

This is the benefit of veterans. You may doubt their lack of proficiency in firearms, but in terms of fighting spirit, they are almost the most perfect presence on this vast grassland.

"Bang bang-----"

Gunfire erupted again from both sides, and before either side could fully see what was happening, Li Yuanheng led his troops in a charge.

Yes, it was a collective charge involving the fourth squad of swordsmen and shieldmen.

This sudden attack instantly shattered the Kazakhs' painstakingly organized force, and their skillful and ruthless tactics forced the Kazakhs, who had finally made it all the way up the hillside, to retreat back down.

Seeing that things were going badly, Bart didn't hesitate for a moment and immediately blew the whistle to call for a retreat. As for the outcome of this war, what did it have to do with him? He was a Kazakh, not one of those Cossack bastards who served the Tsar. He had no obligation to lose his compatriots whom he had brought from his homeland with great difficulty for the sake of the other side.

Meanwhile, Andrei, who had been wasting time with the Eagle Division cavalry below, noticed the unusual activity on the hillside. He knew without a doubt that these Kazakh scum had betrayed the Tsar's trust and, incidentally, sold them out.

"Olov, where are your artillery? Fire! Fire on the hillside!!"

"hurry up!!"

The last sentence was spoken by Hook, who had come to oversee the battle, with a knife to Orlov's neck.

Looking at the hillside in the distance where thick smoke was rising, the artillerymen under Olof's command looked at their commander with a sense of helplessness. Although they were all Cossacks, they were usually under the command of Olof, a Swede. In addition, since they were not highly educated, they could not calculate the specific altitude and rate of fire. Almost every time they changed the shelling location, Olof had to personally adjust the settings.

Orlov cursed Andrei's shamelessness inwardly. The Kazakhs were merely retreating, yet this bastard wanted to use them as bait to perish along with the pursuing Jinshan army. If they lost this battle, who knew what he would do? Thinking this, Orlov took a deep breath.

"Raise the left angle by 15 degrees, load all four rounds!!"

After all, he was one of the few Cossacks who knew how to read scales and numbers. The four cannons that came with the army were adjusted to different angles with some difficulty. When the muzzles were raised to the left, Orlov briefly observed the mixed troops on the earthen slope through his binoculars. A struggle flashed in his eyes, but he finally gave the order.

"Boom!!"

"Where did that artillery fire come from? Observer fire and return fire!"

The swirling sand turned Li Yuanheng's face a yellowish-brown, and only his hands, gripping his sword and pistol, were able to maintain his balance.

He then cut down a stumbling Kazakh who was trying to escape. Li Yuanheng then retreated to the area where the horses were hidden below, under the shield umbrella formed by Hu Wu and his men, taking advantage of the chaos of the battlefield.

As soon as he mounted Zidian, Li Yuanheng ignored the blood on his face and the "hurried" arrival of the tribal reinforcements, and spurred his horse forward, beheading the leader of the reinforcements.

With a "thud," when the head hit the sand, the reinforcements were initially agitated, but then fell silent under the watchful eyes of Hu Wu and the others, who were filled with the killing intent of tigers and leopards.

Witnessing all this, Li Yuanheng wiped the blood from his nose with his left thumb, glared fiercely at the tribal reinforcements, and spoke in a chilling tone:

"Anyone who kills the enemy's leader will be rewarded with five taels of silver. Those who kill between five and ten enemies will not only receive silver but also be granted residency in Jinshan Prefecture. Warriors who kill more than ten enemies will be rewarded with..."

Looking around and seeing the restless eyes of the group, Li Yuanheng dropped a bombshell:

"I shall personally lead a large army to protect him and ensure his ascension to the throne as leader of this band of thieves!!"

This unrest was almost to the point of breaking camp. After all, they were just temporarily conscripted herders who originally thought this was just a thankless and arduous task, so they had been slacking off all the way, hoping to coast until the war was over. Who would have thought that after arriving, before they could even help, their own chosen leader was beheaded. Before they could even get angry, a pile of silver coins was thrown at their heads, and now the position of leader was being offered to them. How could these herders, who usually suffered hardship, not be excited?

As for the head lying on the ground with its eyes wide open in death, no one cared anymore. Even his trusted confidants were preoccupied with the Altai hard currency bearing the Jinshan Prefecture mark and the leader's throne hanging in front of everyone.

The howling of horses, accompanied by the clatter of hooves, rushed towards the Cossack cavalry, who had begun to fight and retreat. Witnessing all this, Li Yuanheng frowned, and the killing intent in his eyes could no longer be concealed.

"Kill the Rakshasa dog first, then deal with these savages who aren't putting in any effort."

The so-called "first kill" was not actually the Cossacks hiding in the back and playing tricks, but the Kazakhs who had already fled to the outskirts.

Capturing routed soldiers is a lucrative job, but Li Boxian would never do something as foolish as getting entangled in a bloody battle with those Cossacks. Rather than that, he'd rather let those savages hold the line and wear them down slowly. With their superior numbers, they could eventually wear them down.

As for how many die, what does that have to do with him? On the contrary, if the battle goes against him, he might even have to use that as an excuse to chop off a few heads and give these treacherous and cunning dogs a good scare.

"Whoosh----"

Looking back at the gradually catching-up troops, Bart bit his upper lip, inwardly congratulating himself on his wise move. Although many of his brothers had fallen in the retreating artillery fire due to the shamelessness of those serfs who had grown up eating excrement, their foundation remained. As long as he returned to the Kazakh Khanate, he could reorganize his forces and earn that considerable wealth once again.

As for those sons of bitches Cossack serfs, hmph, if I'm not mistaken, they're already surrounded. With so few of them, no matter how good they are at fighting, without the assistance of Kazakh warriors, their fate is like the dry grass on this grassland—either eaten by sheep or burned as firewood.

Thinking of this, Bart's gloomy mood instantly improved a lot. After all, with those Cossacks as scapegoats, this time it wasn't a complete loss.

Thinking this, the horse's hooves quickened their pace once more.

But their triumph was short-lived, as the dust kicked up in front of them blocked the Kazakhs' path.

As the dust settled, gray armor was revealed, along with eyes hidden beneath the demon mask. The leader, holding a longbow, drew it taut in the direction of the Kazakhs. Before anyone could react, an arrow, piercing through the dust and exceeding normal range, pierced the body of a squire not far from Bart.

Looking at the chilling depth and the squire who had stopped breathing after only a few breaths, Bart no longer had any thoughts of running away or even resisting.

He tumbled and scrambled off his horse, staggering to his knees in the direction the arrow had been fired.

As Batel made his move, the remaining hundred or so riders completely gave up resistance and knelt down one after another, their foreheads touching the ground and their hands supporting them, showing their most sincere submission to the group of killing gods opposite them.

Upon witnessing this scene, the owner of the bow and arrow simply uttered a few words:

"Lay down your weapons and surrender; accept as a free citizen! If you try to escape and are caught, you will become a slave! You will forever be the lowest of the low on the grasslands!!!"