Chief Armaments Master of the Ming Dynasty

The sound of hooves initially resembled dull drumbeats striking the dry yellow earth, but then it coalesced into rolling thunder, carrying clouds of dust as it surged forth from the low mountain pass to the south.

The black cavalry line, like a torrent bursting its banks, spread along the gentle slopes on both sides.

The sunlight shone on their worn iron helmets and cotton armor, reflecting a cold, chilling light.

About fifty riders, their formation not very orderly, but their horses were fast and carried a fierce killing intent as they charged straight at the mountain ridge held by Wang Ziyong's troops.

He was undoubtedly Du Wenhuan's subordinate.

Only cavalrymen who have long served in border towns and seen bloodshed possess this kind of reckless, charging spirit.

The mountain ridge was deathly silent.

The only sounds were the rustling of the wind through the withered grass and the heavy, suppressed breathing.

Wang Ziyong lay prone behind the rocks, staring intently at the approaching cavalry, his bloodshot eyes gleaming with ferocity and unease.

Beside him, several henchmen gripped the hilts of their knives tightly.

More soldiers huddled behind their bunkers, their faces pale, some even trembling.

Most of them picked up knives and guns because they could not survive. When faced with the charge of regular government cavalry, their instinctive fear overwhelmed everything.

Lin Fan lay prone under a large rock to his side and behind him, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

This was the first time he had ever faced a battlefield charge in the era of cold weapons at such close range.

The thunderous hoofbeats, the increasingly clear and ferocious faces, the gleaming sabers and the cold light flashing at the tips of spears—all these created a scene far more real and terrifying than any film or television production.

The smells of blood and dust seemed to have already entered my nostrils.

He instinctively gripped the knife tighter, his nails digging deep into his palm, using the pain to force himself to calm down.

His gaze swept across the concealed archer positions ahead, where his improved arrows and the dozen or so rockets, carrying uncertain hopes, were located.

Eighty paces... seventy paces... they've entered the effective range of a regular bow and arrow, but Wang Ziyong hasn't given the order.

He was waiting, waiting for them to get closer, waiting for a higher hit rate, and also waiting for Lin Fan's "rockets" to have the greatest disruptive effect.

Sixty paces! The cavalrymen could already see the white breath coming out of the horses' snot and even hear the officers' rough shouts.

The momentum of the charge reached its peak, and the tremors of the earth being trampled by the horses' hooves were clearly felt.

"Fire!" Wang Ziyong leaped up from behind the rock and roared at the top of his lungs.

The taut bowstring suddenly snapped open with a muffled "thud".

More than thirty arrows (including ordinary and modified arrows) whistled as they sparsely flew down from the mountain ridge.

The archers were too nervous, and their arrows flew haphazardly and in a chaotic manner, most of them landing on the open ground in front of the cavalry, kicking up a trail of dust.

Only a few shots hit the cavalry.

"Thud!" A modified arrow, its tip carefully sharpened and surface-hardened by Lin Fan, luckily struck a warhorse in the chest using the momentum of the downhill slope.

The arrowhead did not pierce the horse's simple leather armor, but its sharp tip sank deep inside. The horse neighed in pain, reared up, and threw the rider off its back.

Another arrow grazed the unarmored thigh of a cavalryman, leaving a trail of blood. The cavalryman cried out in pain and swayed.

The effect was negligible; it didn't even slow down the charge.

The government cavalry let out a disdainful whistle, raised their sabers high, and charged with even greater ferocity! Fifty paces! Forty paces! Hooves flew, and yellow dust blotted out the sky!

"Rockets! Launch rockets!" Wang Ziyong roared, his eyes bloodshot.

The dozen or so bodyguards in charge of the rocket were in a flurry of activity.

They only have one chance.

Someone's hand was shaking, and the fuse took several tries to light;

Some people were too nervous and released the bowstring before the arrow was properly nocked. The rocket flew off at an angle and crashed into the ground not far away, burning with a hiss.

However, seven or eight rockets were successfully ignited and launched.

These arrows, trailing bluish smoke and with strange feathers at their tails, pierced the charging cavalry with a significantly faster speed than ordinary arrows, veering erratically.

They were completely inaccurate; some shot into the sky, others veered to the side. But the sudden acceleration and the sight of smoke billowing from their rear still instilled an instinctive fear in the government cavalry and their warhorses, who were accustomed to ordinary arrows.

A warhorse charging at the front was startled by a rocket flying almost head-on, and suddenly dodged to the side, disrupting the rhythm of its companions beside it.

Another rocket struck the round shield held high by a cavalryman. With a "bang," the propellant exploded. Although it failed to ignite the iron-clad shield, the flying sparks and loud noise made the cavalryman instinctively duck his head, his charging posture momentarily halted.

Two more rockets were fired into the open space in the middle of the cavalry column, igniting the dry grass on the ground. Although the fire was not large, the rising smoke and flames further exacerbated the chaos.

The charging arrowhead formation became slightly disorganized, and its speed slowed down a little.

This brief period of chaos and slowdown gave the peasant army archers on the ridge a second chance.

"Shoot! Shoot now!" the squad leaders shouted.

The second volley of arrows was slightly more steady than the first, taking the opportunity to fire at the somewhat disorganized cavalry.

This time the hit rate improved, and two or three more riders were knocked down.

However, most arrows, including those improved by Lin Fan, were still of limited effect on armored targets. They bounced off the armor with a clang or barely embedded themselves in the cotton armor, making it difficult to cause fatal wounds.

Thirty steps!

The cavalry had already charged down the hillside.

At this distance, bows and arrows are almost ineffective.

"Rolling stones! Logs! Smash them for me!" Wang Ziyong roared, brandishing his knife.

The stones and tree trunks that had been prepared beforehand were pushed down the hillside by the peasant soldiers, who roared as they did so.

Amidst the deafening roar, the riders at the forefront were struck by tumbling boulders and logs, their bones broken and their bodies tumbling to the ground with screams of agony.

But the cavalry behind them were extremely brave, leaping over obstacles on horseback or nimbly dodging them, and only a few were affected.

Twenty steps!

The cavalry charging up the hill began to slow down, but their threat increased.

The gleaming sabers and spears were already within reach!

The peasant soldiers roared like wild beasts, raised their spears, javelins, and pitchforks, and, relying on the rocks and the slope, desperately thrust downwards.

In close combat, blood and flesh flew everywhere!

Lin Fan watched helplessly as a government cavalryman rammed through two thrusting spears, his saber flashing, and the head of a peasant soldier flew off with an incredulous expression, blood spurting high into the air.

Elsewhere, several peasant soldiers surrounded a fallen cavalryman and hacked at him with their swords. The cavalryman roared and parried, until a pitchfork pierced his neck.

The battlefield instantly transformed into the most primitive and bloodiest slaughterhouse.

Roars, screams, the clash of weapons, and the cracking of bones mingled together, assaulting the eardrums.

A strong stench of blood and the putrid smell of entrails filled the air.

Lin Fan felt a churning in his stomach and forcibly suppressed the urge to vomit.

He saw Wang Ziyong personally leading his personal guards, blocking a gap on a gentle slope, and fighting fiercely with five or six elite government troops who had no choice but to dismount and fight on foot. Blades flashed and people kept falling.

No! If this continues, the disadvantage in numbers and equipment will cause the defensive line to collapse very quickly!

Lin Fan's eyes searched rapidly.

His gaze fell on the remaining three "explosive rockets".

They were placed behind the archers' positions and guarded by a personal guard.

The original plan was to wait for the main force of government infantry to arrive before using it, but now...

He gritted his teeth and growled at Han Jinhu beside him:

"Cover me!" Then he suddenly darted out from behind the large rock, crouched low, and charged toward the three rockets in a zigzag pattern!

A stray arrow whizzed past him, one of which grazed his cheek, causing a burning pain.

He paid no heed to any of that; his eyes were fixed only on the three arrows strapped with clay explosives.