The Great Ming in the Box

Chapter 429: Man-Eating Salt Lord He Ping

The wooden planks fell, and the firearm soldiers could fire without restraint.

A large section of cover boards on the stockade wall flipped open, revealing over a hundred firing ports. One hundred firearm soldiers extended their firearms outward.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

A cloud of white smoke erupted as the firearms discharged.

Their firearms were mainly smoothbore guns, as rifling gun barrels remained a difficult task for Gaojia Village. Handcrafted rifled barrels were slow to produce, so the number of rifled gun troops was still limited.

The rifled guns also suffered from a major problem: significantly slower loading. Their loading speed was two to three times slower than smoothbore guns, making them inadequate against the numerically overwhelming forces of the bandits. Thus, Gaojia Village still relied primarily on smoothbore guns.

A hundred smoothbore guns fired simultaneously. The bullets flew wildly, with the Gates of Divinity arbitrarily selecting unlucky souls to receive these pellets. Damaged by the grenades, the wooden planks offered no protection to these unfortunates.

In an instant, the front line of fierce bandits fell over.

The Gaojia Village soldiers had now mastered this tactic: demolishing shield walls with grenadiers before switching over to firearm soldiers to continue the assault.

After that volley, the firearm soldiers immediately began reloading.Facing onrushing enemies usually brought a hint of panic, but positioned safely behind the wood-stockade walls, firing through the ports, they felt secure. The bandits’ retaliatory arrows posed no threat to them.

With minds at ease, their reloading motions became stable and steady. Performing the drill with practiced speed, they completed the entire loading sequence in thirty seconds without even flinching…

Over on the bandit side, they weren’t idle either.

They had expected firearms inside the stockade’s defenses. Though the sudden barrage of small black balls caught them off guard, the firearms’ volley didn’t intimidate them.

The word “grain” from Old Zhang Fei’s pre-battle speech still burned fiercely in their hearts and minds, scorching away their reason.

Several fierce bandits dropped their thick, cumbersome wooden boards. Damn this mess—to hell with it! Lightened, they only had thirty-some meters left to charge. Heads down, they raced for the wall!

At this distance, a full sprint would take only a dozen or so blinks of an eye!

A horde of fierce bandits roared as they charged.

This time, their speeds became stratified. The armored border army and guards’ unit soldiers charged slower, while their unarmored common rabble surged ahead faster. Barely ten blinks later, men were pressing against the stockade walls… near the gate.

The firearm soldiers hadn’t finished reloading their second volley yet.

One fierce bandit slammed bodily into the wooden stockade gate, trying to shoulder it open. However, the gate, built from entire tree trunks lashed together, wouldn’t budge easily. The impact only made it wobble slightly.

A spear thrust out abruptly from the slender gap between two logs. Thud! It struck the bandit, who screamed and collapsed.

“The gate’s stiff! There’s gaps! Spears come through!” someone shouted.

“Scale the wall!”

With no defenders atop the wall, climbing it was easy. Lightly equipped fierce bandits swiftly began scaling the palisade. But precisely then—the thirty seconds were up. Firing port covers flipped open once more, firearms extending outward, firing point-blank. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Amidst the chaotic din, bandits at the base of the wall instantly crumpled.

After firing this round, the firearm soldiers got no chance to reload again.

All firearm soldiers backed up, clearing the positions directly behind the stockade wall.

Now the spear soldiers, who had been idling all this time, surged forward. They raised pre-loaded hand bows, aiming upward at the wall’s top.

Just as a fierce bandit heaved himself onto the battlement… Twang! Bowstrings thrummed. A crossbow bolt thunked directly into the front of his face. Screaming, the bandit tumbled backward off the wall.

But instantly, another bandit’s head popped up atop the wall.

Cleverly, this one ducked back down immediately; several bolts whistled over his scalp. Then he surged upward again, giving a loud laugh before vaulting over.

As his feet touched the ground inside, at least three spears stabbed into him simultaneously.

Nearby, the cavalry watched this fight from the stockade’s flank. Things seemed a bit tense. Several troopers grew anxious. “General! Should we intervene?”

Old Nan Feng shook his head. “The cavalry camp stays put! Wait!”

Bandits were popping up everywhere along the wall’s top.

Grenadiers were useless now—at this range, grenades risked friendly casualties instead. Gao Chuwu roared, sliding down from an archer tower. Snatching the thick-bladed large knife Xing Honglang gifted him from his back, he swung it horizontally. Instantly, one fierce bandit was cleft in two.

Elsewhere, near the civilian sector wall, bandits had also clambered over.

Civilians gripped farming tools, hesitating to engage.

“Ha!” Master Zhan Sheng uttered a sharp bark, dashing forward. His staff whipped through the air, twisting in patterns. Two newly arrived bandits were beaten senseless before they even understood what was happening.

Master Zhan Sheng chanted, “Amitabha! Please cease your—”

His sentence remained unfinished as civilians surged past him. Hoes and rakes pounded chaotically downward. Two bandits were crushed into pulp.

Master Zhan Sheng stammered, “You… this poor monk has long laid down his weapon, forsaking killing. Surely these two lives… don’t count as my kills?”

“Master! Forget that debate—more bandits climbing over!” A farmer bellowed.

Master Zhan Sheng turned just as a bandit atop the wall flung a throwing knife at him—likely some jianghu showmanship foolishly employed in mid-battle. The monk jerked his head aside, too slow; the blade sliced a light cut across his cheek.

Master Zhan Sheng touched his face; his fingers came away bloody.

“Ah! Bloodshed!” Two little monks from Pujiao Temple gasped in shock. “Disaster! Master Zhan Sheng bleeds! Everyone nearby clear out! Retreat beyond three zhang around the master!”

The crowd reacted with pure confusion: “???”

Master Zhan Sheng’s countenance instantly transformed. From benevolent elder monk to a wrathful Fearsome Deity Luohan.

His eyes turned bloodshot. Heavy, palpable killing intent rolled off him like a freshly unleashed fiend from the underworld. “WHO? Who dares spill THIS old man’s blood? Have you never heard my name? Man-Eating Salt Lord He Ping! When I slaughtered people like mad, you whelps weren’t even born!”

He Ping whirled his staff. Crunch! A fierce bandit’s skull exploded, spraying matter. Spinning, He Ping thrust as if wielding a spear. The staff’s tip slammed throat-first into another bandit. A sickening crack—the shattering of cartilage—echoed…