Ma Qiang almost dropped his teacup.
"What did you just say? The militia is attacking Tieshan Ping? They made the first move?"
His subordinate nodded quickly. "Yes, Boss. Strong Shaanxi accent. It has to be those newcomers."
Wang Wen sucked in a breath. "Ah. Them. The new arrivals."
Ma Qiang did not flare up. He did not rage.
Instead, he laughed.
"I was just about to go find them. And they've delivered themselves to my doorstep? Excellent. That saves me the trouble."
He slapped his thigh and stood. "Come on. Let's greet our guests."
The bandits swaggered toward the edge of the fortress.
This was no ordinary stronghold. It had once been a military encampment during the era of the Three Kingdoms, when the land was carved into rival states and generals thought three steps ahead of destiny. The men of Shu had chosen this place carefully. Their kingdom was long gone, but their strategic foresight still clung to the soil like old blood in stone.
Tieshan Ping crowned the highest ridge of the cliffs, overlooking the vast flow of the Yangtze River as it rushed southward, slicing through Tongluo Gorge on its long journey toward the eastern sea. To the northeast and west, steep slopes dropped sharply, treacherous and difficult to climb. Easy to defend. Miserable to assault.
The Shu strategists had understood terrain the way poets understood rhythm.
Now that wisdom belonged to bandits.
Ma Qiang stepped to the cliff's edge and narrowed his eyes. Below, a militia force had indeed gathered at the foot of the mountain. Not many. Roughly a thousand men.
Two thousand five hundred bandits on the summit.
One thousand attackers below.
It was not a battle. It was arithmetic.
Ma Qiang burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! What exactly are they relying on? Courage? Luck?"
He raised his arm. "Prepare for counterattack. If they climb, we smash them back down. If they don't, we charge downhill and butcher them to the last man."
The bandits roared with approval.
Wang Wen laughed the loudest of all.
They felt like tigers on a cliff edge.
Unfortunately for them, tigers from ancient times had never seen modern artillery.
---
At the base of the mountain, Cheng Xu stood with a topographical map spread before him. Reconnaissance hot air balloons had already completed a thorough survey of the area and delivered precise charts into his hands.
He studied the map from multiple angles, turning it slowly, then shook his head.
"This mountain is dangerous," he muttered. "The old Shu encampment already occupies the highest point. Those bandits don't even need brains. Sitting inside the former Shu barracks automatically grants them optimal defensive positioning."
He sighed softly.
"The brilliance of Shu strategists is now being exploited by thugs. What a waste."
He looked up toward the summit.
"A direct assault would carry at least a fifty percent chance of meeting our great-grandmothers."
Cheng Xu did not believe in heroics built on probability.
Fifty percent was unacceptable.
Even one percent was too high.
He only displayed bravery when victory was already certain.
After a long moment of contemplation, fingers stroking his chin, he issued his order.
"No direct assault."
The company commander beside him blinked. "Then what?"
Cheng Xu turned and looked at him with faint amusement. "'Then what'? Have you forgotten which regiment we are?"
The commander straightened and saluted sharply. "Gao Family Village First Regiment!"
Cheng Xu nodded. "Number One. And what does that mean?"
"We enlisted first. We trained hardest. We have the finest equipment."
A slow grin spread across Cheng Xu's face. "Exactly. Equipment."
He gestured forward. "Bring out everything."
The commander saluted again. "Understood."
He spun around and barked orders. "Gao Family Village First Regiment, First Artillery Battalion, attention!"
The elite gunners stepped forward, eyes already shining with anticipation.
Along the base of Tieshan Ping, they deployed rows upon rows of small short-barreled cannons. Each barrel was no thicker than a man's arm, light enough to be carried by a single soldier, yet capable of extraordinary range.
Yes. Precisely what you are imagining.
Cheng Xu raised his hand and roared, "Blast them."
The artillery battalion commander hesitated only long enough to grin. "Instructor He, we are thrilled. But if we unleash everything like this, the shells will disappear quickly. Won't our First Regiment look extravagant?"
Cheng Xu snorted. "Have you forgotten Dao Xuan Tianzun's temperament? If spending ammunition reduces casualties among our own people, no price is too high. But if you try to save money and even one of our soldiers gets scratched, Dao Xuan Tianzun will be displeased for quite some time."
That settled it.
Everyone from Gao Family Village understood one principle clearly: Dao Xuan Tianzun valued human life far above material expense.
In that case, there was nothing left to debate.
"Open fire!"
"Open fire!"
In the next instant, the mountain shook.
A synchronized roar erupted as dozens upon dozens of short barrels spat flame. From below, a torrent of shells screamed upward toward the summit.
---
On the mountaintop, Ma Qiang and his men were still peering downward in mild curiosity. They noticed the enemy fiddling with iron tubes, but no one seemed to be climbing.
Then the thunder began.
A collective confusion appeared on every face.
A heartbeat later, the shells arrived.
Boom.
Several bandits screamed and collapsed before anyone understood what had happened.
Boom. Boom boom boom.
White smoke blossomed across the Shu encampment as shells rained down in relentless succession, as if ammunition were free and the heavens themselves were angry.
An ancient earthen watchtower, a relic of the Han dynasty, shattered and collapsed in a cloud of dust.
A long stretch of fortress wall from the same era crumbled like dried bread.
The crude wooden shacks and thatched huts the bandits had built for themselves fared far worse. Splinters exploded outward. Straw scattered into the air. Within moments, the entire mountaintop resembled an apocalypse.
Men were struck by shrapnel and thrown to the ground, some never rising again.
Ma Qiang and Wang Wen flattened themselves against the dirt, clutching their heads, trembling.
Unlucky.
And yet, strangely fortunate.
For they had become among the first people in this world to personally experience what would later be known as firepower saturation.
A historical honor, if one insisted on calling it that.
In future years, had they survived with sufficient shamelessness, they might even boast, "Brother, do you know what firepower saturation feels like? I do. I was there."
The bombardment continued for what felt like an eternity.
When at last the thunder faded, Ma Qiang realized he was buried beneath a thick layer of sand and dust. He rolled over and forced himself upright.
The fortress he had managed for years was gone.
Not damaged.
Gone.
Flattened.
Reduced to debris.
He nudged Wang Wen beside him. Wang Wen coughed, spat dirt, and sat up as well, earth cascading from his shoulders.
"Is it… over?" Wang Wen's voice shook. "What kind of demonic cannons are those? How can they fire from the foot of the mountain and still explode up here?"
Ma Qiang's lips trembled. "It's finished. All of it."
He raised his voice hoarsely. "How many brothers are still alive?"
"Boss… I'm… alive…"
A figure crawled out from beneath broken beams.
Then another.
And another.
One by one, men emerged from rubble, shattered walls, collapsed pits. Fewer had died than he feared. Perhaps two thousand remained.
But survival did not mean courage.
The bombardment had crushed something far more important than buildings.
It had shattered their will.
A subordinate with hollow eyes pointed downhill. "Boss… they're starting to climb. What do we do? Counterattack?"
And for the first time since seizing Tieshan Ping, Ma Qiang hesitated.