Chapter 75: Lingao's Counterattack (Part 2)
The county's counterattack plan emerged primarily from Liu Dalin and Huang Shoutong, unwittingly reproducing the classic Ming pattern of civilian control over military affairs. Jinshi Liu was a deeply learned man; shaped by the political turmoil of the late Ming, he had devoured military treatises and possessed a solid grasp of strategic thinking. Militia Commander Huang brought years of front-line experience to the table, having fought countless small-scale engagements, and understood tactical command intimately. The assembled officials and gentry, seeing this pairing, felt their confidence bolstered.
Scout reports indicated the pirates had established separate camps at Bopu and Bairrentou Beach. Women had been spotted at Bairrentou Beach—a clear sign that the pirates' main encampment was there, and where their headquarters would be found.
Though many troops had gathered within the city walls, precious few could actually fight. Huang Shoutong, a local man who had commanded militia for years, knew exactly which forces could hold their own in battle and which were good only for bullying unarmed civilians. The truly reliable fighters numbered perhaps a hundred from his own Huang Family Village militia, supplemented by militiamen and retainers from a handful of landlord-gentry households—barely two hundred in all. His plan was to deploy these men as a strike force aimed directly at the pirates' command center, hoping to decapitate their leadership in a single bold stroke.
Some of the gentry voiced concerns: would killing the pirate leaders not provoke a frenzied retaliation?
"In war, one must never harbor false hopes." Huang Shoutong stroked his chin-whiskers thoughtfully. "Once blades are drawn, you fight to the finish. Never imagine that showing mercy will earn you a peaceful withdrawal—your enemies will see only weakness and vulnerability, and press you all the harder." His gaze swept across the assembled faces, naturally commanding. "Beat them until they hurt, until they are afraid. Then they will roll away on their own."
The final plan called for a two-pronged assault. The left column, with the Huang Family Village militia as its core, would bring two huzhun cannons dismounted from the city walls, along with fire-rockets and powder grenades—three hundred men in total, led personally by Huang Shoutong, striking directly at Bairrentou Beach. The right column, commanded by Fu Bowen with over three hundred men—mostly conscripted commoners—would carry an abundance of flags, horns, and drums to mount a noisy feint against the Bopu camp as a diversion. To prevent the pirates' scouts from detecting the stratagem, both columns would depart together, appearing to march toward Bopu, before the left column doubled back to surprise-attack Bairrentou Beach.
The two columns established their signal: fire. The right column would strike Bopu first; then the main force would launch its assault. Either column withdrawing would signal with smoke.
The city garrison, apart from the yamen runners, consisted of two hundred men. The county archers and militia had gone unpaid for so long that Magistrate Wu fretted constantly—he feared that if left to guard the city and events turned sour, they might riot and plunder both city and countryside. The village militia he could not fully trust either. So he scrambled them all together: militia, archers, and garrison soldiers mixed indiscriminately for city defense. Those militiamen who wished to avoid fighting could only bribe the registrar for exemption; those without money were driven off, seething with resentment.
By the sixteenth day of the ninth month, preparations were complete. Cooking pots appeared in the city streets. Many men were eating their first proper meal of the entire year—they crowded around the pots, drooling, drinking in the aroma.
"Heavens above, finally a full stomach."
"Usually only get decent rice at harvest time—these past two years, not even then."
"Weather's gone mad. Frost in Lingao!"
"This meal might be our last."
"Don't speak such ill luck."
County Vice-Magistrate Wu Ya arrived bearing several hundred strings of cash as departure bonuses, along with twenty sets of freshly quilted cotton armor. Such armor was simple enough to make, but the South-Sea heat made it impractical, so it was rarely used—these had been rushed into production for the occasion. Huang Shoutong understood well that the magistrate was counting on him as a bastion of defense. Deeply moved, he offered repeated thanks, his resolve to fight hardening within him.
He summoned his second son. Huang Bingkun was a county-school student, a shengyuan. With his younger brother's death still fresh—mere days past—and his father now girding for battle with an air of finality about him, the young man felt a deep unease settle in his chest.
"Bingkun, your father goes to fight pirates today." Huang Shoutong rested a hand on his knee. "These pirates are fierce. I have no certain confidence in this campaign..."
"Father—"
"Do not speak," Huang Shoutong said, his voice solemn. "Your father is past fifty. If something happens to me, you and your elder brother need not grieve overmuch. Your elder brother, though brave, has no love for study—he lacks your cleverness. So I give these instructions to you alone: these ten-odd years, the signs of chaos have been growing throughout the realm. We are fortunate to live in a remote backwater. But when the great chaos comes, petty villains will seize their opportunities. First, lead our sons in taking up arms to defend our homeland. Second, follow Heaven's mandate!" He fixed his son with a penetrating stare. "Do not let too many books breed foolish loyalty in you—do you understand?"
"Yes! Your son understands." Huang Bingkun grasped the meaning yet remained confused, but dared not press further.
"You will leave with me shortly, then turn back toward Huang Family Village along the way."
"Your son wishes to fight at your side!"
"Foolish boy..." Huang Shoutong sighed deeply. "You are a xiucai. War is perilous. The Huang family cannot be left without you."
"But there is still Elder Brother—"
"Your elder brother is a commoner." The old master allowed his servants to help him don the cotton armor. "Magistrate Wu will eventually transfer out. Will the new magistrate remember our blood and sacrifice? A xiucai in the family makes our words carry weight."
At this, the young man finally understood his father's deeper intentions—yet felt a hidden reluctance stirring within.
After instructing his son, Huang Shoutong led the main force out through the city gates. As he rode, he felt genuine gratitude for Magistrate Wu's trust, yet could not shake a dark premonition. These pirates who sailed in giant iron ships, who drove machines no human strength could match—they were nothing like the bandits and thugs he had spent his life fighting. Their arrival perhaps signaled that many things would change utterly. He lifted his eyes to the sky—only faint wisps of cloud drifted there, yet to him the sun seemed dim, its light somehow leached away. Was this Great Ming realm truly facing an upheaval beyond reckoning?
After the forces split on the road, he brought his troops to within two li of Bairren Rapids. There he waited: partly for the Bopu feint to begin, partly for fresh scout reports. He had already made up his mind—if Bairrentou Beach proved undefended, he would attack early, signal or no signal from Fu Bowen.
Soon the scouts reported back: the Bairrentou Beach pirates had all withdrawn into their camps, with no movement outside. Huang Shoutong nodded grimly. This was hardly unexpected. The enemy's own scouts had likely tracked their movements already.
After waiting a while longer, smoke and fire signals appeared from the Bopu direction. Knowing Fu Bowen had commenced his attack, Huang Shoutong rode his horse up a small rise to address his men.
"Fellow elders and brothers, we are about to charge the enemy lines. We are all natives of this land—our families have lived here for generations. Here stand our fields and houses, our ancestors' graves and shrines..." His voice caught, and he felt tears welling up. "Today is the day we defend our homeland and serve our court. Everyone—follow me!"
With that, he spurred his horse forward, leading his mounted retainers as the vanguard, galloping toward Bairrentou Beach. The militia split into two columns, following the dozen-odd riders in their headlong charge. The cannon crews—ten men to each piece—pushed and hauled desperately to bring the two huzhun cannons to the front.
From the administrative-zone watchtower, He Ming had been tracking their assembly through binoculars. Now, seeing dust clouds billowing across the sky and drums rolling in thunderous waves, he knew the assault had begun. He snatched up his walkie-talkie to sound the alarm. Almost simultaneously, a piercing siren shrieked across Bairrentou Beach. Every spine stiffened—the attack had started.
"Group Leader He... Leader..." The arriving messenger was from the Communications Group, his words tumbling over themselves. "Bopu is under attack! The enemy is besieging Bopu!"
He Ming frowned. The observation post's tracking reports had already told him the enemy had split their forces—obviously one thrust had to be a feint. But both columns had similar numbers, both carried many handcarts, and now both had launched attacks nearly simultaneously...
"Tell Bopu to hold!" Bopu's defenses were far more developed than those at Bairrentou Beach, and with over a hundred defenders now—including ten Military Group members—holding should not be a problem.
The command center here was another matter. Construction had sprawled outward, leaving too many positions to defend: the residential zone, the equipment and vehicle storage, the power station, the newly completed administrative compound. Most positions had only two lines of barbed wire and a single earth berm for protection. How much fighting capability these city-bred homebodies possessed—men who had barely fired a dozen rounds in their lives—remained an open question.
Huang Shoutong's forces charged to the edge of the trench, tossing their prepared sandbags and brush bundles into the ditch, instantly laying a crossing path. Then gunfire erupted. A dozen men around him dropped—pirate firearms are fearsome! He crouched low against his horse's neck, spurring the animal to a gallop. Gunfire crackled without pause; men continued to fall. He wheeled his mount sharply, deciding against a deeper assault on the pirates' main camp. Instead, he would concentrate everything on the nearest enclosure. His broadsword swept forward:
"Brothers, charge!"
The enclosure he had chosen was the administrative zone—newly completed, its barbed wire installed only yesterday. Fifty people defended it, including ten Military Group members.
"Mengxian! Handle suppressive fire!" He Ming roared into the walkie-talkie. "Shoot the mounted ones!"
Before he finished speaking, a saber-brandishing militiaman tumbled from his horse with the crack of a rifle shot.
"Damn—nice shot!" He Ming could not help but praise. This finance major who had spent years at sports school practicing moving-target shooting really could shoot.
By now the militia were surging forward like wave upon wave. The gunfire grew chaotic. Those behind the barbed wire watched these men coming—each one baring his teeth and howling, waving every manner of weapon as they charged. Most of the transmigrators had been law-abiding citizens back in their former lives; forget about shooting people, they had scarcely witnessed a street fight. Faced with such a scene, they gaped in frozen panic. After squeezing off a single round, they simply stood there—only scattered shots rang out.
"Shoot! You idiots!" He Ming grabbed an SKS rifle, flicked the bayonet out with a sharp swing, and rushed forward, kicking and shaking them back to their senses.
Finally, volley fire rang out. The charging gray wave hesitated for a moment, then surged forward again. The other camps opened ragged supporting fire. Most of the transmigrators were hopeless with their weapons—many forgot to adjust their sights before firing, while others held down their triggers in wild panic, blazing away until their magazines ran dry.
(End of Chapter)