Chapter 32: Lingao's Counterattack (Part 2)

The counter-attack was planned by Liu Dalin and Huang Shoutong, an arrangement that inadvertently mirrored the Ming Dynasty’s common practice of civil officials controlling the military. Jinshi Liu, a learned man influenced by the political currents of the late Ming, had read a number of military texts and had a grasp of strategy and planning. Huang Shoutong, on the other hand, was a veteran of countless small-scale battles, a seasoned commander with a deep understanding of battlefield tactics. The officials and gentry were reassured by this partnership.

From the spies, they had learned that the pirates were stationed at both Bopu and Bairen Tan. The presence of women at Bairen Tan suggested it was the main camp, and therefore, the location of their central command.

Though the city was now filled with men, the number of true fighters was limited. Huang Shoutong, a native of the region, knew which families’ militias were battle-hardened and which were only good for bullying peasants. The real fighting force consisted of his own hundred men from Huang Family Village, and the retainers of a few other powerful gentry, totaling no more than two hundred. He planned to use these men to strike directly at the pirates’ command center, hoping to kill a few of their leaders.

Some of the gentry questioned this strategy, fearing that killing the pirate leaders would only provoke a more ferocious retaliation.

“In war, one cannot be swayed by wishful thinking,” Huang Shoutong said, stroking his beard. “Once swords are drawn, you must fight to the end. Do not think that showing mercy will grant you a path of retreat. They will see it as weakness, and they will become even more aggressive.” He scanned the crowd, his expression grim. “If we beat them until they are in pain, until they are afraid, they will run away on their own.”

They decided on a two-pronged attack. The left flank, led by Huang Shoutong himself, would consist of three hundred men, with the Huang Family Village militia as its core. They would be armed with two Tiger Squatting Cannons taken from the city wall, as well as rockets and gunpowder pots. They would attack Bairen Tan directly. The right flank, led by Fu Baiwen, would be a diversionary force of over three hundred men, mostly conscripted peasants, armed with flags, horns, and drums, to feign an attack on the Bopu camp. To deceive any pirate spies, the two forces would set out together, pretending to march on Bopu, before the left flank turned back to launch a surprise attack on Bairen Tan.

They agreed to use fire as a signal. The right flank would attack Bopu first, signaling the main force to begin its assault. Wolf smoke would be used to signal a retreat.

Two hundred men, a mix of yamen runners, archers, and militia, were left to guard the city. The archers and militia had not been paid in a long time, and Wu Mingjin, fearing they would riot in the event of a defeat, had mixed them in with the more reliable garrison soldiers and local braves. Those who had no desire to fight had to bribe the registrar; those who could not afford a bribe were forced to go to war, their hearts filled with resentment.

On the sixteenth day of the ninth month, all was ready. Pots were set up in the streets to cook rice. For many, it was the first time they had eaten dry rice all year. They crowded around the pots, their mouths watering.

“My goodness, a full meal at last.”

“We used to only get dry rice during the busy season. The past two years, we haven’t even had that.”

“The weather is strange, too. Frost in Lingao!”

“I’m just afraid this will be our last meal.”

“Don’t say such unlucky things.”

Magistrate Wu Ya distributed a few hundred strings of cash as a reward, along with twenty sets of newly made cotton armor. Huang Shoutong, moved by the magistrate’s trust, thanked him repeatedly and vowed to fight to the death.

He called his second son, Huang Bingkun, a student at the county school, to his side. His third brother had just died, and now his father was preparing for a desperate battle. The young man’s heart was heavy.

“Bingkun,” the old man said, “I am going to suppress the bandits today. The pirates are powerful, and I am not confident of the outcome.”

“Father—”

“Do not speak,” Huang Shoutong said, his voice firm. “I am already in my fifties. If I should fall, you and your elder brother must not grieve too deeply. Your brother is brave, but he does not have your intelligence. The world is in chaos. Your first duty is to defend our homeland. Your second is to obey the will of heaven.” He looked his son in the eye. “You must not, because you have read a few books, become a foolishly loyal and filial son. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” Huang Bingkun said, though he was not sure he did.

“You will follow me out of the city, and then return to Huang Family Village.”

“I am willing to fight with you, father!”

“Silly boy,” Huang Shoutong sighed. “You are a xiucai. The battlefield is a dangerous place. The Huang family cannot be without you.”

“But my elder brother—”

“Your brother is a commoner,” the old man said, his retainers helping him into his cotton armor. “Magistrate Wu will not be here forever. Will the new magistrate remember our sacrifice? With a xiucai in the family, our words will carry more weight.”

Understanding his father’s painstaking efforts, Huang Bingkun reluctantly agreed.

Huang Shoutong led his men out of the city. He was moved by the magistrate’s trust, but he could not shake a sense of foreboding. These pirates, with their iron ships and their unstoppable machines, were unlike any bandits he had ever faced. Their arrival, he sensed, would change everything. He looked up at the sky. A few thin clouds drifted overhead, but the sun seemed dim, without light. Was the world of the Ming Dynasty truly on the verge of a great change?

After splitting from the main force, he led his men to a position two li from Bairen Tan. He would wait for the signal from Bopu, and for the reports from his spies. If Bairen Tan was unprepared, he would attack immediately.

The spies soon reported that the pirates had all retreated to their camps. This was not unexpected. The pirates’ own spies had likely detected their movements.

He waited. A signal of smoke and fire rose from the direction of Bopu. Fu Baiwen had begun his attack. Huang Shoutong rode to the top of a small hill.

“Fellow villagers,” he called out, his voice ringing across the fields. “We are about to attack the enemy. I, and all of you, are natives of this land. We have lived here for generations. Here are our fields, our homes, the tombs of our ancestors.” His voice choked with emotion. “Today, we fight to protect our homeland and repay the court. Follow me!”

He spurred his horse, and with his mounted retainers as a vanguard, he charged towards Bairen Tan. The local braves, divided into two groups, followed close behind. The gunners pushed and pulled the two Tiger Squatting Cannons to the front.

He Ming had been watching their assembly through his binoculars from the watchtower. Now, seeing the dust and smoke, and hearing the faint sound of drums, he knew the attack had begun. He raised his walkie-talkie to give the warning. At the same moment, a sharp alarm shrieked through the air over Bairen Tan.

“Team Leader He!” a man from the communications team cried, out of breath. “Bopu is in danger! The enemy is besieging Bopu!”

He Ming frowned. He knew the enemy was divided into two forces. One had to be a feint. But the two forces were of equal size, and both were attacking at the same time.

“Tell Bopu to hold on!” Bopu was well-fortified, with over a hundred men, including ten from the military group. He was confident they could hold.

Bairen Tan, on the other hand, was spread out and vulnerable. The residential area, the equipment storage, the hydropower station, the new administrative area—all had to be defended. Most were protected by only a few strands of barbed wire and an earthen rampart. And the fighting ability of the urban otaku, who had barely fired a shot, was an unknown.

Huang Shoutong’s men reached the trench and threw in their earth bags and bundles of firewood, quickly creating a path. Gunshots rang out, and a dozen men fell. The pirates’ firearms were deadly. He ducked low, spurred his horse, and charged through the continuous gunfire, men falling all around him. He wheeled his horse and, instead of attacking the main pirate camp, he concentrated his forces on the nearest one, the administrative area.

“Brothers, charge!”

The camp was defended by fifty men, ten from the military group.

“Meng Xian! You’re in charge of suppression!” He Ming roared into the walkie-talkie. “Shoot the ones on horseback!”

Before he could finish, a local brave, brandishing a sword, fell from his horse.

“Damn, good shot!” He Ming praised. The finance and accounting student, who had practiced moving targets at a sports school for years, was a crack shot.

The local braves surged forward like a tide. The transmigrators, most of whom had never seen a real fight, let alone killed a man, were stunned. They fired a single, ragged volley and then stood, dumbfounded, as the enemy charged.

“Fire, you idiots!” He Ming roared. He fixed his bayonet and charged into the line, kicking and hitting the stunned men.

Finally, another volley rang out. The gray tide of the charge faltered for a moment, then surged forward again. Scattered shots came from the other camps in support. Most of the transmigrators were poor shots. Many forgot to adjust their sights, and some fired wildly, emptying their magazines in a panic.