Chapter 40: Wartime and Old Acquaintances

In the distance, the Red Damsel watched the two forces clash from a vantage point.

On the left and right flanks, the matchlock-bearing musketeers fired volley after volley of lead balls, cutting down the densely packed conscripts in the center in sweeping swaths. Right in the middle, a dense forest of pikes thrust and jabbed continuously against the engaging levies.

Such relentless thrusting made the Red Damsel, who instinctively gripped her own spear, tremble slightly: "The materials used for these pikes—just one must cost five taels of silver! The spearheads are forged with folded steel at the very least, and those shafts are certainly not made of ordinary wood. Spears at least ten feet long, how expensive must those trees be?"

Beside her, Pan Yong suddenly cried out in alarm: "The second wave is pressing in! They are only thirty paces away from the imperial matchlockmen!"

Everyone looked over in unison and saw, just as expected, that the first wave had been practically decimated the moment they made contact.

For the forces of Dang Shouzuo stationed behind the levies, however, this could almost be considered good news.

That was because the thousand-odd conscripts of the second wave began to roar and accelerate their charge.

"Retrieve a matchlock, and you shall be promoted to cavalry! Cut down a single imperial soldier, and you will be proudly raised to centurion!" Behind the second wave, dozens of horsemen galloped and shouted.

Ahead of them, the thousand-odd levies had indeed closed in on the matchlockmen.

Zhang Yong looked at the two hundred or so musketeers under his command and ordered, "Reserves, step forward, fire! Fall back to reload!"

Thirty paces away, over fifty matchlocks were leveled, and after a round of volley fire, the imperial left and right wings immediately began to fall back.

What made the Red Damsel furrow her brows even more tightly was...

Yet another three ranks of imperial soldiers lowered their pikes, stepping forward to fill the gap after the hundreds of matchlockmen on the left and right wings retreated, effectively blocking the pursuing rebel levies.

Right before her eyes, another hundred sharp spearheads sliced through unarmored flesh, blossoming into blooming mists of blood.

Pointing at the battle formation, the Red Damsel said, "Now, the imperial forces have deployed their formation into a semicircle, and right behind them is a reserve force of at least three hundred fresh troops that has never wavered."

This meant that even if the rebel levies expended several times their current numbers, enduring heavy casualties to outflank the wings and sweep around the defense, they would still find it impossible to shake the imperial battle formation.

And now, the second wave of charging rebel levies had been shattered and routed once again. Yet the imperial forces before them still showed no sign of wavering!

Suddenly...

Pan Yong sighed softly, "The musketeers have finished reloading."

"That is an interval of less than eighty breaths..." The Red Damsel murmured. As she watched the flank pikemen maneuver back toward the heavily pressured center, she let out a light sigh: "This wave is wasted, too."

At this moment, Mo Gao coldly led the fifth wave of levies advancing toward the battlefield.

Despite facing levies at least twice their number, the imperial forces still showed no signs of exhaustion.

Seeing this, the Red Damsel turned and walked away.

She certainly did not believe that these eight thousand civilian conscripts still had a chance to scatter the imperial battle formation; this was merely a tactic employed by Dang Shouzuo to wear down the morale and stamina of the imperial troops.

Yet judging by the current situation, even this modest goal would likely elude the rebel army...

The rebel forces had run into a hard nut to crack. The Battle of Zhuxian Town could by no means be replicated.

With neither side seeking a decisive all-out battle, Dang Shouzuo's current move was entirely futile. With no decisive confrontation intended by either party, the battle would soon lapse into a stalemate.

"Red Damsel..." Just as she stood dazed, gazing at the battlefield, Liu Yan'er, who led the Red Damsel's personal guard, came up beside her and whispered softly, "A sister has arrived, saying she wishes to see the Red Damsel."

The Red Damsel frowned slightly, somewhat puzzled: "Who is it?"

"Su Feng'er..."

Meanwhile, after Zhu Cilang finished handling military affairs in the flagship, another capable-looking man arrived.

Zhang Zhen walked in unhurriedly, his expression solemn as he reported to Zhu Cilang, "Your Excellency, this subordinate has already tested the waters with Liu Zeqing. There was no unusual reaction within the army regarding Liu Zeqing's appearance. When Household Guard Commander Liu Kui snatched a horse and fled, Liu Zeqing was left with no way to continue distributing military pay. Consequently, the Household Guard Battalion of the Shandong Garrison has essentially lost all cohesion. Once Your Excellency disrupted their command structure, these men no longer recognized Liu Zeqing."

Zhu Cilang nodded: "Understood. Bring him in."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Zhen bowed and withdrew. Not long after, a man with leopard-like eyes and a ringed beard walked in slowly with a dazed and vacant gaze.

Zhu Cilang quietly observed the man before him. Although he had mentally prepared himself, upon seeing him in the flesh, he could not help but sigh softly: "Military Commissioner Liu has changed quite a bit."

Standing before Zhu Cilang was naturally none other than Liu Zeqing, the Regional Commander of the Shandong Garrison.

At this moment, Liu Zeqing had indeed undergone a drastic transformation. His physical appearance remained largely unchanged, but gone was the exquisite and majestic mountain-pattern armor, gone was the supreme authority and ambition of a regional commander... Today's Liu Zeqing would blend in seamlessly if thrown into a pile of beggars and go completely unnoticed!

Zhu Cilang could tell that someone had clearly tidied Liu Zeqing up a bit before sending him to meet him today. At least his face was free of a thick, bushy beard, and his hair wasn't growing wildly or exhaling a strange odor. Combined with a clean, plain, and modest short robe, he had at least managed to avoid presenting himself looking outright like a beggar.

After all, Liu Zeqing was still the Regional Commander of the Shandong Garrison.

Even though... he was de facto a prisoner whose authority had been completely stripped away by Zhu Cilang, living in constant terror and liable to be executed for the crime of desertion at any moment!

Liu Zeqing was well aware that both Liu Kecheng and Ruan Yingzhao, two of his most formidable senior generals, had already been executed by Zhu Cilang.

At the mere thought of heads falling beneath the heavy executioner's blade, Liu Zeqing felt a bone-chilling cold pierce through him even in the scorching heat of summer, causing him to shudder involuntarily.

Looking blankly at Zhu Cilang before him, Liu Zeqing harbored deep, hidden terror.

Liu Zeqing had spent half his life on horseback, and if truly driven to desperation, he might not have lacked the resolve to draw his sword and die fighting. But human beings were strange creatures.

If one truly knew for certain that death awaited, one might grow exceptionally calm; whether facing a heroic death or kneeling to beg for mercy, a decision made cleanly and decisively would at least put an end to the churning anxiety in one's heart.

Yet although Zhu Cilang held the concrete evidence of Liu Zeqing's desertion, he had never pronounced a sentence. This unspoken, hanging sword—this unresolved state—left Liu Zeqing's heart suspended and constantly fluctuating, long unable to find peace. One moment he thought of following his subordinate generals like Liu Kecheng to the grave, and the next he prayed for a miraculous escape with his life.

This torment made the pain all the more excruciating for Liu Zeqing.

To make matters worse, confined and placed under house arrest, Liu Zeqing could only remain in a narrow, enclosed room where no matter how bitterly he wavered or wailed, no one paid him any heed. Whether pleading for mercy or roaring in anger, he heard only his own echoes bouncing back. It was then that Liu Zeqing truly experienced the plight of a powerless man reduced to a prisoner.

Thus, even though Zhu Cilang had not applied any physical torture, Liu Zeqing now wore a haggard expression, his eyes devoid of spirit, as if every ounce of his vitality and soul had been sucked completely dry. (To be continued.)