Chapter 59: Engaging the Enemy

Dozens of large cauldrons were simmering with braised pork. Wooden barrels were filled to the brim with rice.

The militia, garrison soldiers, corvée laborers, and all the military households—adults, children, and the elderly alike—each held a stainless-steel basin, devouring their food voraciously.

Yang Fan had bought all the pigs belonging to the military households. Only by eating their fill could they have the physical stamina to cope with the impending battle. After toiling desperately throughout the previous night, everyone was utterly exhausted.

Once the meal was finished, save for a few dozen sentries posted on watch, the rest collapsed where they stood and fell fast asleep.

Yang Fan had the carpenters he brought along take down the windows of the southern gatehouse and replace them with newly crafted hardwood slatted louvers. This design allowed them to observe the outside while also preventing arrows from piercing through.

Yang Fan sat in the gatehouse for a brief nap, but anxiety kept him awake. He got up to do the accounts.

Spending money truly flowed like water this time. So far, broken down per capita—including clothes, grain, meat, weapons, ammunition, bedding, tools, the resettlement of dependents, and housing construction—each militiaman had cost thirty taels of silver. Adding miscellaneous expenses and pre-allocated casualty compensation, one hundred thousand taels of silver had vanished.

Yang Fan could only hope that a budget of thirty million RMB would be enough to get through this battle. He had never realized how exorbitantly expensive it was to maintain an army; his reserves simply could not last long.

Fortunately, the basic equipment was already secured, and subsequent maintenance costs would not be this high. Once this battle was over, he would keep the elite, quickly disband the rest, and send them to work in the factories.

Up to this point, he had generated no income on this side; it was all out-of-pocket losses. He had to establish a revenue stream here as soon as possible to break even. He needed to push Monkey to negotiate more catering partnerships.

Aside from the iron ore, soap production also needed to be scheduled. The subsequent construction of Xinghe Fortress, the building of the reservoir dam, and the reclamation of the farmland at the Rocky Shoal would require a massive number of refugees. Without engineering machinery and relying entirely on human labor, it would probably take at least one hundred thousand laborers.

If the remaining food supply fell short, they would have no choice but to purchase grain. This would be a colossal expense. If local grain supplies proved insufficient and they had to buy heavily within the region, local grain prices would skyrocket. Moreover, bulk purchasing would lead to a market devoid of supply; there simply wasn't large quantities of grain available on the open market.

The powerful families who controlled the grain were hoarding it, releasing only tiny amounts to maintain high prices. If he bought in bulk, prices would instantly shoot through the roof. Failing to procure grain was a secondary concern; the real tragedy would be the immense suffering inflicted upon the common people.

Only once the Rocky Shoal was successfully developed would his food supply problem be resolved. If push came to shove, he would simply have to transport modern grain through the portal.

As Yang Fan rubbed his brow in distress, he heard the sound of battle drums echoing from afar.

The terrain outside the south gate was the most open and ideal for combat. In the distance, a crowd of ragged people, brandishing swords and spears, formed a loose formation and marched toward the stronghold in disarray.

Judging by their numbers, there were over a thousand of them. At the rear, an ox-cart carried a giant drum, which two shirtless, robust men were beating with all their might.

Behind this contingent, cavalrymen began to appear one after another. On both flanks, five or six small cavalry units also emerged, each consisting of twenty to thirty horsemen.

Yang Fan suddenly regretted not bringing a telescope. Standing atop the gatehouse, he could not see clearly, as the gatehouse was far too low. It was merely a gate base six meters high topped by a lonely little room of less than twenty square meters, which was so dilapidated that the wind whistled through it from all sides.

It looked like there were about five hundred cavalrymen, flanking the ragged foot soldiers on three sides to prevent them from fleeing. It appeared these disheveled individuals were the bandits who had gone missing earlier.

The Later Jin forces intended to use the bandits as cannon fodder to test the defenses here.正好我也想和你们碰一下看看建奴的成色。 (This translated sentence was missing in the thought process, ensuring absolute completeness.)

Just right, I also want to clash with you and test the true mettle of the Later Jin.

"Lüdan, ring the bell. Wake everyone up and have them assemble."

At the resonant chime of the bell, the sleeping men snapped awake, scrambled to their feet instantly, and formed ranks with their gear.

"Besides shields, do we have anything else that can block arrows?" Yang Fan asked.

"Yes, large wok lids made of elm wood, three feet in diameter. They'll stop arrows without a problem."

"How many do we have?"

"Every household has them. At least three hundred plus."

"Bring them all out and hand them over to the Shang Battalion. Gather the shields as well. Deploy the fifty-odd archers to the south city wall to stand ready to support the Shang Battalion."

"Shang Battalion militia, follow me out of the fort to meet the bandits. Commander Wang and Commander Zhang, lead all corvée laborers and able-bodied adults up onto the wall. Issue one divine gun to each person. Divide the garrison soldiers so each is responsible for twenty men and a specific section of the wall. The Xia Battalion will remain on standby as the reserve."

Mogstone and Lüdan helped Yang Fan don his hundred-man officer's scale armor. Yang Fan issued orders while buckling up.

Leading the militia out of the fort, Yang Fan deployed a horizontal battle line outside the south gate. The Shang Battalion formed a rank of one hundred men deep, five rows in total.

"Any front-row soldier who retreats without orders will be executed by the rear ranks!" Yang Fan commanded loudly.

The rear ranks were tasked with supervising the front.

Ailinbao had not expected this garrison officer to actually dare march out and offer battle. He was somewhat surprised, but it was merely a surprise; in his view, the outcome remained unchanged. It seemed the reinforcements arriving last night were quite numerous—around five hundred men, by the look of it.

Ailinbao motioned to Suhetai.

"Attack with the full force! Execute the families of anyone who dares to flee." Suhetai urged his horse forward and shouted the order.

A dozen bandit leaders wore bitter expressions. The enemy opposite clearly looked like trained camp soldiers, not those utterly incompetent garrison troops. Their formation was neat, and looking at them sent a chill down the spine. Yet the damned Later Jin forces were pressing them from behind, and their families were under Later Jin control. They had no choice but to advance.

Suhetai led fifty cavalrymen driving over a thousand bandits, slowly advancing to within fifty paces of the Xinghe militia before halting.

Zhao Shuigen stood in the front row. It was his first time on a battlefield. He swallowed nervously, only to find his mouth completely dry without a shred of saliva, and his legs were trembling slightly. Yet he knew that if he turned and ran, the row of men directly behind him would thrust a spear through him without hesitation. This was drilled into them every single day during training.

Mogstone roared, "Damn your mothers! Stop shaking those legs and keep your spears leveled!"

The soldiers in the front row hastily raised their spears higher, yet their legs continued to tremble.

"Everyone check your fire-ropes! Blow them until they glow! If anyone's fire goes out, you'll get military floggings!" Mogstone continued to curse.

Suhetai gazed at these weaklings opposite and gently shook his head. So these were the kinds of wretches who had arrived last night; they were decent at manual labor, but as for fighting—forget it. Look at how nervous every single one of them was. A single charge would likely shatter their lines, allowing him to dine inside the stronghold by noon.

"Sound the horn! Attack!" Suhetai ordered.

*Woo! Woo!* The desolate sound of the horn echoed across the field.

Cavalrymen used long spears to drive the bandit formations forward. Several who shrank back and hesitated were instantly pierced to death by spears, collapsing onto the ground and convulsing as they shrieked.

One-eyed Wei Daha roared at the top of his lungs, "Brothers, charge with me!"

The other dozen family leaders also roared as they surged forward.

In an instant, over a thousand bandits and outlaws rushed forward in chaotic disarray, brandishing swords and spears. These were veteran scoundrels who had killed men and tasted blood; every single one of them bore ferocious expressions and grotesque features, charging forward with a murderous momentum that looked utterly terrifying.

"Ah!" Panic caused one soldier to drop his divine gun to the ground.

Fortunately, when Zhang Gada had originally selected squad leaders, his eye for talent had been sharp, picking the bravest batch of men. He had declared that a weak general makes a weak army, and a weak officer makes weak subordinates. Whoever was boldest and most ruthless would be made an officer. Soldiers were forged through combat.

Squad Leader Shao Wenhua strode over and delivered a fierce slap across the face. "Ning Laoqi, you bastard, pick up your gun right now! If you lose control of your bowels again, I'll hack you to pieces!"

Terrified, Ning Laoqi hurriedly scooped up his gun and unsteadily leveled it once more.

Lüdan yelled, "Remove the spearheads, ready your fire-ropes, and keep the muzzle level!"

The officers and men of the Shang Battalion panicked, pulling off their spearheads—some threw them to the ground, others tucked them into their bosoms—completely forgetting the instructions drilled into them.

"No firing without orders! Unauthorized discharge of firearms warrants military flogging!" Mogstone bellowed at the top of his lungs.

Very soon, this acting provost-marshal realized that shouting carried no more weight than a passing breeze.

*Bang!* A gunshot rang out. Someone had panicked and fired prematurely.

"Damn your mother..." Furious enough to see red, Mogstone resolved that once the battle was over, he would drag that bastard who fired first out and reward him with a thorough round of military floggings.

Fifty paces—seventy-five meters—and even bird guns couldn't guarantee a hit at that distance. Were they trying to fly up to the heavens?

*Bang! Bang!* Instantly, gunfire merged into a ragged roar.

With one person firing, a large crowd followed suit. Human beings possessed a herd mentality, and more and more people joined in to open fire.