When the cannon was finally rolled out from behind the crude wooden barricades and pushed into the open, the reaction on the mountaintop was nothing short of explosive.
The workers from Ba Coal Plant No. 1 and Xi Steel Plant No. 1 froze where they stood. A few of them were still gripping rocks in their arms, ready to hurl them down the slope at any moment. Others were panting, faces smeared with coal dust and sweat. They were militia, nothing more. In their hands were cast off smoothbore muskets, old bird guns that misfired half the time, and even antique Three Eyed Arquebuses that looked as if they belonged in a museum rather than on a battlefield. Every single one of those weapons had been discarded by the regular army.
And now, right in front of them, stood a cannon.
A real one.
The iron barrel gleamed dully in the afternoon light, mounted on a heavy frame that creaked as it settled into position. It looked serious. It looked terrifying. It looked far too advanced to belong to a group of part time workers who spent most of their lives hauling coal and forging steel.
One of the coal workers swallowed hard and muttered, "You people… you can even make cannons?"
The workers from Chang'an Automobile Factory puffed out their chests like roosters at sunrise.
"Hahaha! Now you understand the strength of a true military industrial enterprise, right?" one of them shouted proudly. "Do you think we only know how to assemble trucks? This beauty is a towed cannon designed for armored vehicles on the front lines."
The surrounding workers stared at the cannon as if it were some divine artifact.
Another man asked cautiously, "If it is for the front lines… why is it here?"
The Chang'an worker coughed lightly and scratched his head. "Well. It is technically a defective unit."
Silence.
"What kind of defect?" someone pressed.
The answer came in a perfectly casual tone, as if he were describing a slightly crooked door hinge.
"When the muzzle points downward, the cannonball tends to slide out."
For several seconds, nobody said anything.
The wind blew across the mountaintop.
Somewhere below, the rebels were shouting as they climbed.
One of the Xi Steel Plant militia blinked slowly. "It… slides out?"
"Yes," the Chang'an worker admitted. "Which is why the militia procurement team rejected it and told us to melt it down and rework it. But we figured, waste not. So we brought it here."
Before anyone could continue the discussion, a sharp voice suddenly cut through the air.
"Oh no! It is sliding out! It is sliding out!"
All eyes snapped toward the cannon.
The rebels were climbing up from below, so naturally the workers had angled the cannon downward toward the slope. Unfortunately, this particular cannon did not believe in gravity resistance. The moment the barrel dipped too low, the heavy iron ball inside shifted.
Then it rolled.
The Chang'an workers shrieked in panic and rushed forward, grabbing the carriage and trying to lift the muzzle upward again. Their boots scraped against stone. Their hands strained. Someone even attempted to wedge a rock under the wheel.
Too late.
The cannonball slid cleanly out of the barrel.
It bounced once against the rocky slope.
Then it began to roll.
The iron sphere gathered speed as it descended the steep mountainside, bouncing from rock to rock, accelerating with terrifying inevitability.
Below, a fierce bandit was scrambling upward with a blade clenched between his teeth.
He never even saw it coming.
Thump.
The cannonball struck him squarely on the head. There was a dull, heavy sound, and the man collapsed instantly, flattened like a nail driven into wood.
The rolling ball continued downward a short distance before lodging between two rocks.
On the mountaintop, the militia stared.
Then one of the Chang'an workers burst out laughing.
"It hit! Direct hit! Did you see that? Our gunnery skills are unmatched!"
"What unmatched skills?" a militiaman from Xi Steel Plant No. 1 snapped back angrily. "You did not even fire it! That was blind luck."
"Luck is also part of skill," the Chang'an worker replied shamelessly.
"Stop arguing!" someone from the pig farm militia shouted while heaving a massive stone over his shoulder. "If you have time to boast, you have time to throw rocks!"
That snapped everyone back to reality.
Ba Coal Plant No. 1 workers gritted their teeth and began lifting rocks with renewed ferocity. Years of hauling coal had hardened their arms and backs. One particularly burly worker roared with laughter as he hurled a boulder downward.
"Look at this strength! Coal carrying builds real power!"
Large stones thundered down the slope in waves. Compared to the ten sentries stationed at the previous two outposts, this force was overwhelming. The mountain seemed alive, vomiting rocks onto the attackers below.
The two hundred bandits who had been climbing with confidence moments earlier were instantly crushed by chaos. Some were struck. Some slipped. Others scrambled desperately, abandoning any thought of continuing upward. Within moments, their formation dissolved entirely. They slid and tumbled back down in utter disarray.
At the base of the slope, Chuang Wang watched the scene unfold.
His brows knit together.
Something was wrong.
At the previous outposts, there had only been ten defenders each. Ten. Easy prey.
But this mountain was crawling with people. Figures stood shoulder to shoulder along the ridgeline. More silhouettes moved behind them. The peak looked less like a defensive position and more like a marketplace during festival season.
"What is happening?" he muttered.
Beside him, Guo Tianxing suddenly pointed toward another peak.
"Brother, look at Red Cliff."
Chuang Wang turned his head.
On Red Cliff, across the valley, human figures stood packed together just as densely. Militiamen were even shouting across the distance.
"If you have guts, stop attacking Fenchu Ridge and come try us here!"
Laughter echoed from that direction.
Another voice cried out, "Look over there!"
Farther away stood a peak crowned by a large cave known as Immortal Cave. Its summit was also crowded with defenders. Everywhere he looked, there were people.
To enter Shaanxi, they had to pass through the valleys threading between these mountains. But any commander with sense would hesitate to march through valleys overlooked by enemy held high ground. Rocks alone would be devastating. Add firearms, and it would become slaughter.
Chuang Wang's face darkened.
"To enter Shaanxi, we must take these peaks first," he said quietly. "We must seize the high ground before passing through the valleys."
Guo Tianxing shouted to a scout, "Can you estimate their numbers?"
The scout shook his head, breathing hard. "Too many. They are packed together. We can only count heads along the ridge. We do not know how many are hidden. Each peak must have at least five thousand defenders."
Chuang Wang felt a chill.
Historically, rebels held the advantage in numbers. Government armies were constrained by funds and supplies. A single general often commanded only a few thousand troops. Even combined forces rarely exceeded twenty thousand.
But here, a single peak might hold five thousand.
How many peaks were there?
He glanced back at his own forces, proudly claimed to be over one hundred thousand strong. Yet half were families. Elderly. Women. Children. The true fighting force was far smaller.
For the first time in a long while, the advantage of numbers did not belong to him.
Before he could decide on a course of action, another scout galloped back in panic.
"Brother! Disaster! The firearms troops and the White Pole Soldiers have passed through Mingyue Gorge and are pursuing us. With the White Pole Soldiers guiding them, they moved through the Shu Road much faster than we did."
Chuang Wang's expression changed instantly.
Blocked ahead. Pursued behind.
A trap closing from both sides.
For a brief moment, silence settled around him despite the chaos.
Then he hardened his gaze.
"We force our way into Shaanxi. Charge. The firearms behind us are even more dangerous than those ahead."
With that, he led his army into the northern valleys.
The militiamen above responded without hesitation.
Rolling logs thundered downward. Massive stones followed. Discarded flintlock rifles cracked sharply. Bird guns belched smoke. Three Eyed Arquebuses roared clumsily. Even the oldest hand crossbows from Gao Family Village fired in volleys. Among them, colorful toy bows and toy catapults bestowed by Dao Xuan Tianzun joined the barrage, absurd yet deadly in numbers.
Weapons abandoned by regular troops found new life in the hands of ordinary people.
The valleys erupted into chaos.
No single valley could contain such a vast army. The rebels split apart, flooding into every ravine they could find.
And in every direction, the peaks were occupied.
The rebels had always relied on the power of the common people against the official army.
But here, in Dao Xuan Tianzun's liberated zones, the people themselves were the army.
This was not a contest between equal forces.
It was something entirely different.
Through dust and screams, Chuang Wang charged forward with several bandit chiefs. At last, ahead of them, he spotted what seemed to be an unguarded valley exit.
Hope flared.
He urged his men forward.
But as they reached the mouth of the valley, an army stood waiting.
At its head was a burly, imposing man with a thick beard and powerful build.
Chuang Wang recognized him immediately.
"Wang Er of Baishui," he breathed.
And in that moment, he understood that this was no mere skirmish.
It was a wall of people.