Farmers of Shu Han

Chapter 1498 The Battle of Xiangyang (Part Two)

At this moment, the Han River was shrouded in billowing black smoke, obscuring the sky and even turning the sunlight a dark red.

The smell permeating the air was indescribable.

Lu Dai stood at the bow of the flagship, his whole body stiff.

His left hand gripped the gunwale tightly, his fingernails digging into the wood until they bled.

The sword in his right hand trembled slightly at the tip—not by him, but by the entire ship, shaken by the shockwaves from the constant explosions around it.

The ship on the left wing, its superstructure has completely disappeared, leaving only a burning skeleton.

The three warships on the right flank collided, and the flames melted them into a huge ball of fire.

Further ahead, the surviving Wu sailors, who were charging towards the Han army's fleet, were jumping into the river like madmen, but the river was also ablaze...

His legs could no longer support him, and he collapsed onto the deck.

His Wu Kingdom navy, the riverbank barrier he guarded throughout his life, upon which the nation depended for its survival.

On the Han River, which was being redefined by flames and deafening roars, a devastating, dimensional-reducing destruction was unfolding, one that he could not comprehend at all.

He closed his eyes, not out of resignation, but to try to suppress the burning, humiliating, and desperate tears welling up in his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, they were bloodshot and lifeless. He forced himself to stand up again.

"Speed ​​up," he hissed, each word as if shouted with all his might, "At all costs... push through."

In fact, even without his order, or the moment he gave the order to engage in battle, the Wu navy had already charged toward the Han navy at their familiar pace.

Quan Xu, who had been standing motionless, finally came to his senses.

His eyes were bloodshot. Suddenly, he turned around, grabbed the ship's rope, and swung down onto the deck.

Then he glanced down at the warship that had been staying next to the main ship, originally intended to guard against any unexpected situations and to receive the commander-in-chief at any time.

He gripped the rope again, touched the cable with his toes, and landed steadily on the bow of the warship like a hawk doing a somersault.

"Cut the moorings!" He snatched the drumsticks, struck the war drum, and roared, the sound splitting the river's waves. "Great Wu warriors, follow me to break through the enemy lines—!"

The warships cleaved the river like iron arrows released from a bow.

Quan Xu stood on the boat, staring intently ahead, his eyes bloodshot and burning.

He saw the sea of ​​fire ahead, and his comrades turning to charred bones in the flames, but he beat the drums even faster.

This was the last hope for the Jiangdong navy.

Boarding the ship!

Let those Han soldiers know what a real naval battle is!

"Charge! Charge!" he roared. "The Han army's demonic fire is only effective for long-range attacks! Get close! Get close and the world will be ours!"

Three warships followed closely behind, cleaving the river like arrows released from a bow.

Twenty steps.

He could already see the texture of the wooden planks on the hull of the Han army's warships and the faces of the Han soldiers behind the parapet.

There was no fear, no tension, and even... there was a kind of peace that bordered on pity.
Fifteen steps.

The rope hooker was in position, with an iron hook attached to the end of a thick hemp rope, as thick as a child's arm, which he swung around in his hand.

Once they've taken ten steps, dozens of grappling hooks will be launched, securing the enemy ship's sides, and then—

Ten steps.

Quan Xu drew his sword, the blade reflecting the burning light on the river surface, appearing as red as blood.

He took a deep breath, and the prelude to a battle cry exploded in his chest—

Just at this moment.

The square firing ports on the hulls of the Han army ships had their shields flipped inwards.

Not one place, not ten places, but rows and rows of gun emplacements opened simultaneously, like a hundred eyes suddenly opened by a giant beast.

From each nozzle protruded a dark tube as thick as a large bowl and over four feet long.

At the front of the tube, the cotton rope soaked in nitrate was burning, hissing and crackling, with sparks flickering in the morning breeze.

Quanxu's battle cry was stuck in his throat.

After he saw the nearest tube, he saw two Han soldiers, shirtless, gripping a horizontal bar tightly with all four hands.

One of them looked up and glanced at him.

His gaze was as calm as if he were looking at a corpse.

"spray--"

The command, given short and violently, was from an unknown source, like a hammer smashing a pottery jar.

next moment.

boom--! ! !
It wasn't just one roar, but dozens of roars combined, like an earth dragon turning over.

It wasn't an explosion, it was a jet—thick, orange-red columns of fire, as viscous as lava, gushed out from the ports of those dark tubes!

The pillar of fire was not scattered, but condensed.

It was as if someone had used an invisible mold to shape them into thick, rolling spears of fire, which pierced fiercely into the Wu army's rushing warships!

Quanxu's bow was the first to be hit.

The moment the first pillar of fire touched the iron ram at the bow, the iron melted.

The hard iron quickly turns red and softens under high temperature, flowing down like wax and dripping onto the wooden bow of the boat, instantly igniting it.

Flames spread along the flowing molten iron, turning the bow of the ship into a twisting, writhing fireball.

But what's even more terrifying are the second and third pillars of fire.

They swept across the deck.

A man holding a hook was on the left front of the bow. He was swinging his iron hook in a wide arc, ready to throw it, when a pillar of fire swept past his waist.

No screams.

Because the flames were so fast, he could only manage a short, sharp "uh" before his vocal cords were burned through.

The man remained frozen in the throwing posture, a charred, smoky "fault" appearing between his upper and lower body.

His body slowly slid down and fell into the water.

He saw three swordsmen with shields on the starboard side, and the three men raised their shields to block.

The moment the pillar of fire struck the ironwood shield, the shield burst into flames, turning into a fireball with a deafening roar, just like dry grass doused in oil.

Flames spread from the shields to the arms, igniting the three men's arms in the blink of an eye, before they collapsed onto the deck, still convulsing.

"what--!!!"

The screams finally rang out, but were quickly drowned out by the roar of flames.

What about Quanxu himself?
A pillar of fire grazed past his left shoulder.

The leather armor instantly turned black and curled up, like the shell of an insect that had been scalded to death.

A sharp pain shot through my left shoulder—not a burning pain, but a deeper pain, as if my very soul were being scorched by intense heat.

He looked down and saw that the skin on his left arm was blistering, turning black, and curling up, revealing the white bone underneath.

But he didn't have time to feel the pain.

Because the entire ship was burning.

The jet of fire did not spew out ordinary flames, but a viscous "fiery oil mist" mixed with sulfur and mineral powder.

They were stuck to the hull, melting and corroding the planks.

The surface rapidly carbonizes and peels off, exposing the underlying layer, which then carbonizes and peels off again.

The mast groaned under the intense heat, then snapped in two with a crack.

The flaming upper half of the mast crashed down on the stern, crushing the rowers huddled together there into burning patties.

"Jump...jump into the river!"

Because of fear, the voice no longer sounded like a human voice.

Quan Xu staggered toward the ship's side, but his right leg buckled.

Looking down, I saw that my right calf had been licked by flames at some point, the skin and flesh were charred black, and the bone was exposed.

He collapsed onto the deck, his face pressed against the scorching wood, smelling the stench of burning flesh and his own hair.

My vision began to blur.

He saw the ship next to him be hit by three pillars of fire at the same time, and the entire ship "folded" in the middle.

The high temperature softened the ship's hull, causing it to slowly fold in half like a tree branch bent by an invisible giant hand.

The soldiers on the ship fell into the river like dumplings, but the river was also burning, and the oil slicks and flames engulfed every one of them.

The last warship attempted to turn, but a second batch of cannons emerged from the gun emplacements of the Han army.

The second volley of fire created a net of flames that enveloped the ship in the center.

The ship disintegrated in the flames, and the broken planks, still burning, scattered in all directions like a burning meteor shower.

Finally, Quanxu saw the bottom of his ship.

The wooden board became thin and brittle under high temperature, and then with a "pop," it broke open with a large hole.

The Han River surged in, but the instant it entered the ship, it was vaporized into white steam by the high temperature inside the ship.

White vapor mixed with black smoke gushed out of the hole, and the entire ship began to tilt and sink.

He lay on the deck, his face pressed against the increasingly hot wooden planks, the excruciating pain in his left shoulder and right leg now numb.

The last thing in sight was the dark tubes on the hull of the Han army ship slowly retracting their firing ports, and the shields closing again.

So calm, as if nothing had happened.

Only burning shipwrecks, charred corpses floating on the river, rising white steam, and a nauseating stench in the air...

This proves that a massacre had just taken place here.

Quanxu's lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but only black smoke billowed from his throat.

Then, darkness swallowed everything.

The thirty-step-wide stretch of water in the heart of the Han River became the eternal graveyard of Wu's charging soldiers.

Those bravest, most elite soldiers and warships that rushed over at the first moment.

Amidst the roar of the raging flamethrowers, they were reduced to charred remains, floating corpses, and burning debris carried downstream.

The Han army's naval formation remained silent.

It was as if behind that wall of fire lay another world.

"General..." the lieutenant's voice rang in my ears, weak like the murmur of a dying man, "We...we can't get through..."

Lü Dai did not answer.

His gaze passed over the inferno of burning ships and boiling people, and fell upon the gunwales of the Han army ships whose tarpaulins had been lifted, revealing the third layer of weapons.

Those dark, thick, bowl-shaped cylindrical objects.

That was the final funeral procession that Feng Yong prepared for the Wu Kingdom's navy.

Lü Dai slowly closed his eyes.

This time, it wasn't an attempt to suppress anything, but rather an acceptance of fate.

When he opened his eyes again, there was no emotion in them, only a stagnant despair.

He released his grip on the gunwale, straightened his armor which was covered in soot, and slowly sheathed his sword.

"Give the order." His voice, filled with despair, had become calm. "Any ships that can move, evacuate to both banks. Those that cannot move... abandon ship."

"General?!"

"We can still..."

"No, it's impossible." Lü Dai interrupted those around him.

His gaze swept over the burning, exploding, and sunken warships on the river, and over the soldiers struggling and screaming in the flames.

"This isn't a water battle. This is... a slaughterhouse."

He paused, then lowered his voice, so low that only those around him could hear him:
"Tell the survivors, tell Wuchang, tell Jianye..."

"Tell them... naval warfare will be different from now on."

Lü Dai's back became hunched, as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

The river wind swept by, carrying with it the lingering warmth of flames and the scent of death.

On the Han River, the pride and glory of the Wu Kingdom's navy, which had dominated the Jiangnan region for decades, were burning, collapsing, and sinking into the abyss in this timeless firestorm.

However...

it's not finished yet.

At this point, it seemed that everyone had forgotten about the Han army that had been watching the battle from the north bank.

Even Jiang Wei, who was watching the battle from the north bank, was stunned.

What he saw in the water was not the battle situation he had envisioned.

The General of Zhen Dong has no need for his cooperation at all.

Those thunder rockets, thunderous fireballs, and fierce flamethrowers...

This three-tiered fire attack system demonstrates a pure and efficient form of destruction that transcends the understanding of this era.

Wu Jun's decades of experience in naval warfare across the Yangtze River region, the towering size of those warships, the swiftness of those fighting vessels, and the ferocity of those warships...

In the face of viscous flames and deafening explosions, it was as thin as a cicada's wing.

Jiang Wei even saw that Wu's flagship had begun to turn.

The surviving warships and battleships, like frightened birds, were rowing desperately, trying to escape this inferno of burning ships and boiling people, and flee downstream.

"Oh dear!"

He led his troops from Guanzhong through the Wuguan Pass to assist in the defense of Nanyang and to contain Zhao Guang in Wuchang. He slapped his thigh, his tone full of regret:
"It's a pity we're in the water. If we were on flat ground, wouldn't it be wonderful for me to lead my cavalry in pursuit?"

Looking at Jiang Zhong again, his eyes were full of envy.

It's a pity I don't know anything about online trolls; otherwise, it would have been so nice to go on the boat with my older sister...

The speaker has no intention, the listener has the heart.

Jiang Wei suddenly awoke with a start.

Yes.

The tide of war has turned.

General Zhen Dong's overwhelming victory disrupted the rhythm of everything, but it also created greater opportunities for battle.

Wu Jun's retreat was not orderly; it was a rout.

The routed army, with its scattered formations and broken morale, was the perfect opportunity to unleash a barrage of cannon fire!

"Pass on the order—"

Jiang Wei drew his longsword, pointing it directly at the Wu boats attempting to escape in the middle of the river:
"All artillery pieces, switch to slingshots! Fire a barrage of bullets at the fleeing troops in the middle of the river! Load ballistae with rockets and snipe their sails and masts! Crossbowmen, advance to the riverbank and shoot those who have fallen into the water!"

"promise!"

Command flags fluttered, and war drums beat rapidly.

On the north bank, the "giant beasts" covered by tarpaulins finally revealed their fangs in the Han army formation.

The strongmen shouted their work chants, and the creaking sound of the winch as it turned was like a giant beast grinding its teeth.

The counterweight box slowly rose, and the throwing arm tilted backward under the pull of the winch.

The leather pouch at the end no longer contained the entire boulder, but rather dozens of fist-sized pebbles.

The war behemoth has finally revealed its true face.

"put!"

The artillery command flag was cleaved down.

collapse!collapse!collapse!
More than thirty stone cannons roared simultaneously.

With a whistling sound as the booming arm sliced ​​through the air, thousands of pebbles were launched into the air like a torrential rain.

Then, it dispersed in the air, forming a rain of death that covered half a mile of the river, crashing down on the Wu boats that were desperately rowing away to escape.

Puff puff puff puff——!
A shower of stones fell.

On the deck of a warship, Wu Jun, a rower, was covered in a rain of stones as he rowed with all his might.

Pebbles struck the helmet, denting it; they struck the shoulder and back, the sound of bones cracking clearly audible; they struck the ship's planks, sending wood chips flying.

Amid screams, the entire paddling area was emptied, and the boat's speed decreased sharply.

Another warship was hit by more than ten pebbles in succession, the parapet was broken, and the archers behind the crossbow windows were smashed to pieces.

"Ballast ballista—fire rockets!"

On the high ground on the north bank, twenty reinforced crossbows fired simultaneously.

The rocket, as thick as a child's arm, whistled and flew two hundred paces before crashing into the mast of the Wu ship.

The canvas caught fire instantly, and the already chaotic Wu fleet lost power to even more ships.

"Crossbowmen, come forward!"

Three thousand archers rushed to the riverbank, and arrows rained down on the river like locusts.

Those Wu soldiers who jumped ship to escape now became easy targets.

Someone was struggling to swim when he was shot through the throat by an arrow;
Some people were clinging to driftwood when they were pierced by several arrows;

Some desperately raised their shields, but arrows rained down from all directions...

The river's center has become a battlefield.

They were met with a sea of ​​fire from the Han navy in front and a hail of cannonballs and arrows from the north bank behind.

The remaining ships of Wu Jun were like insects caught in a spider web, struggling, crashing, burning, and sinking.

Lu Dai gazed at this desperate situation, surrounded by enemies on all sides.

He watched his men howling and scattering amidst the hail of bullets and arrows.

Looking at the cannons that had finally revealed their ferocious nature among the Han army formations on the north bank...

He knelt down.

This veteran, who had seen countless life and death moments, finally shed tears.

It turns out that the Han army's killer move was not limited to the fire attack on the river.

The Han state intended to use both land and water forces to completely annihilate the Wu state's navy in the Han River.

Feng Yong...

The name kept echoing in his mind.

He finally understood why Wei, with its strength, was defeated by Shu Han, which only controlled one province.

In the end, they could only flee to sea in a panic.

Only by truly facing it can you realize how terrifying this opponent is.

“Pass on the order…” Lü Dai lowered his head, his voice extremely hoarse, “Each ship… break out on its own, every one that can escape… is one more.”

After saying this, he stopped looking at the tragic scene on the river, got up, and walked step by step toward the ship's deck.

It was as if all their energy and spirit had been scattered into the rolling waves of the Han River along with this defeat.

On the north bank, Jiang Wei sheathed his sword and gazed at the Wu fleet in the middle of the river, which was crumbling and sinking under the rain of cannons and arrows, and gently exhaled.

Although the rhythm was disrupted, and although the General of the East's brilliance was too dazzling...

But victory is victory after all.

Hopefully, the Grand Marshal in Chang'an won't blame me for cooperating too late...

The river wind howled, carrying with it the smells of gunpowder, burnt odor, and blood.

They swept past the heavily fortified Han army formation on the north bank.

The burning wreckage swept across the river.

We swept across this battlefield, rewritten by flames.

Xiangyang, like a lamb that had been washed clean, trembled as it was exposed to the fangs of the Han army.
-
The Biography of Lü Dai in the Jiangbiao Zhi:
Dai rallied his remaining troops, gathering over two thousand men, and retreated to defend Xiangyang.

At that time, the fire on the river had died down but the smoke had not yet dissipated when the Han army landed on the south bank and built fortifications to besiege the city.

Some of the generals advised, "Jiangling is still there. We can take advantage of the night to sail downstream and plan our next move."

Dai, with his hand on his sword, rebuked, "I have received the Emperor's grace and guarded this northern gate for ten years. Now that we have lost the navy, if we abandon the city as well, how will we face His Majesty in the netherworld?"

They then burned all the boats and ships outside the city to show their determination to defend it to the death.

However, the city's food supplies had been almost entirely depleted by the previous requisition; the garrison soldiers were all newly defeated and spoke of the Han army's firearms as if they were tigers.

Furthermore, the powerful clans of Jingzhou have harbored deep resentment since the trade routes were cut off last year.

The families of Cai, Kuai, and Pang secretly colluded with the Han camp, agreeing to "open the city gates and spare their lives, thus protecting their ancestral rites."

At the third watch of the night, the Han army's cannons roared again.

Dai, clad in armor, ascended the city wall and personally supervised the battle with bows and crossbows. Suddenly, a mutiny broke out at the south gate, and flames soared into the sky.

The powerful clans' private armies defected, breaking through the passes and locks, allowing the Han army to surge in, and street fighting ensued.

Knowing that the situation was hopeless, Dai summoned a hundred of his personal guards and said with great emotion, "A true man should die for his country today!"

He then rushed down from the city tower, brandishing his spear and charging into the enemy ranks.

The Han army had already occupied the streets and alleys, and arrows rained down upon them.

Dai was heavily armored. He charged forward for dozens of steps, but his spear broke, and he replaced it with a sword.

His personal guards were almost all gone, and he was hit by seven arrows, yet he still shouted that he was fighting fiercely.

In the Han army formation, General Zhao Guang, who was leading the south, had been drawing his bow for a long time.

Seeing that Dai's beard and hair were bristling and he looked like a mad tiger, he nocked a three-edged armor-piercing arrow, the bowstring taut like a full moon.

The arrow flew like a shooting star, piercing through armor and throat; its remaining force had not diminished, and it was embedded in the charred wood behind the victim.

Dai's body stiffened abruptly, his eyes widened in anger, he leaned on the ground with his knife, making a gurgling sound in his throat, and finally said nothing more.

After a long while, it crashed to the ground with a loud thud, its blood soaking three feet deep.

Guang holstered his bow, stepped forward, pulled the arrow from the wood, wiped the blood from it, put it in his pouch, glanced at the corpse, and spat: "You treacherous old Ge!"

A historian named "Zhuge the Exiled Star" wrote:

Mount Tai rose from humble beginnings to eventually reach the pinnacle of power.

However, when he was in Jiaozhou, he promised Shi Xie's son that he would "protect his clan," but later he executed them all, thus losing his credibility in the southern lands.

The defeat at Xiangyang and the defection of powerful clans from within—is this not the way of Heaven?

A general must be cautious in making promises and must be discerning in observing the people.

Dai rose to power through deceit and force, but ultimately perished due to a loss of trust. How tragic!