MLMD -Chapter 368 Aerial Strike

Although Wu Xiang and his son were not particularly outstanding people, they were quite skilled in training troops. The city’s defending soldiers, though initially under heavy artillery bombardment, calmed down after the first panic thanks to the orders of their officers—they either took cover below the walls or hid behind the thick battlements. Furthermore, solid cannonballs didn’t cause much damage to personnel, so after the initial casualties, morale gradually stabilized.

The situation on the walls was naturally observed by Zhao Yongxin, who was directing the cannon fire from outside. Soon he ordered a halt to the bombardment—after all, every cannonball they fired had been painstakingly transported from Shanxi by the logistics battalion, and they couldn’t afford to waste them recklessly.

“Sir, our hot-air balloons have been ignited and are rising. The high-altitude reconnaissance corps requests their next orders!” reported a communications soldier.

“Good. Order the musketeers on the balloons to prepare. They must suppress the defenders on the walls!”

As Zhao Yongxin gave this command, sweat trickled down his palms. The high-altitude reconnaissance corps was a unit newly established by Yue Yang after introducing hot-air balloons from the modern era. Originally, the balloons were meant only to observe enemy movements and guide artillery fire. But yesterday, when Yue Yang convened a meeting, Shunbao proposed mounting musketeers on the balloons to suppress the defenders from above. This turned the previously minor observational role into a key tactical advantage. If today’s operation succeeded, this reconnaissance corps would become an essential unit in the Xuanda army.

Since the high-altitude corps usually had light duties, the army only had six balloons, each with limited carrying capacity. Aside from two observers, each balloon could carry eight musketeers—so the six balloons carried a total of forty-eight musketeers. Zhao Yongxin was putting all his assets into this operation. When the six massive balloons slowly rose above the artillery positions, all the defenders at Shanhaiguan were stunned.

“Monsters!”

“The Xuanda army is using witchcraft!”

Humans always fear what they do not understand, regardless of age, gender, or ethnicity. The defenders, who had gradually calmed during the bombardment, now panicked again at the sight of these enormous objects in the sky.

The six balloons rose steadily. When they reached 500 meters, the observers relayed the signal to the ground crews, who secured the balloons at this height. At this point, they were only about two li (≈1 km) from the two southern barbicans, and from this altitude, the defenders’ positions were entirely visible.

“Target the two southern barbicans. Begin free fire!” the command came from the ground.

The musketeers on the balloons were elite marksmen hand-picked by Zhao Yongxin from tens of thousands of arquebusiers. While such marksmen might not have much effect in large-scale battles, their precision against fixed targets from above was formidable.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

The walls of the barbicans were soon dotted with defenders collapsing in pools of blood. They could hide from cannon fire, but there was nothing they could do against attacks from the sky—they were facing an aerial assault unprecedented in the history of warfare.

“Alarm! The Xuanda army is attacking the barbicans!”

Shanhaiguan had four barbicans, each garrisoned with two thousand troops. Yue Yang’s first assault targeted the two southern barbicans. Once the balloons began suppressing the defenders, six thousand soldiers pushed tall shielded carts and ladders toward the right barbican, moving deliberately, with calm precision.

These assault troops were originally the frontier troops of the Xuanda army. Although reorganized by Yue Yang, he did not convert all of them into musketeers, retaining some as sword-and-shield and spear units. This was both for logistical reasons and for combat effectiveness—like today, using musketeers alone for siege assault would have been less effective than using cold weapon troops.

While the assault units moved deliberately, the defenders could not relax. Under their officers’ orders, defenders were dragged from hiding. Some lit fires to boil molten metal, others bent bows to shoot arrows, and some positioned themselves behind battlements to fight invading soldiers hand-to-hand.

But this created a new problem. With the balloons suppressing the walls, defenders had to scatter to avoid being shot, making them easy targets. Musketeers on the balloons had no mercy—standing high in the basket, they pulled the triggers. The crisp gunshots rang out, and defenders fell to the ground, shot.

Although there were fewer than fifty musketeers in total, and the balloons constantly swayed, reducing accuracy, each round had only a 30–40% hit rate. But the continuous damage was overwhelming. Within less than half an hour, three to four hundred defenders were down. The commanders of the barbicans were flustered.

If they hid, the soldiers below would rush the walls. If they didn’t hide, they were easy prey for the aerial marksmen. They were trapped—neither choice was safe.

Seeing the balloons’ dominance, a skilled officer drew his three-stone longbow and shot at the balloons. But after flying over 200 meters, the arrows lost momentum and fell. Though the arrows missed, the musketeers were angered. Three or four musketeers aimed at the officer; a few crisp shots later, the famous archer fell in a pool of blood.

Chaos spread among the defenders. Even elite Liaodong troops, skilled though they were, were helpless under unrelenting attacks. Disorder was inevitable.

As Xuanda troops calmly set up ladders and scaled the walls, the defenders’ anticipated desperate counterattacks never came. The first barbican was quickly captured, then the second. In under an hour, both key barbicans fell, with minimal casualties among the attackers. The contrast was stunning: the Xuanda army was elated, and the Shanhaiguan defenders were terrified.

In the hidden command cave, torches flickered, casting orange light on Wu Xiang, his son, and a dozen generals. Even Wu Sangui, previously the loudest critic, had a tense expression.

A deputy general, trembling, asked, “Commander Wu, the Xuanda army has captured two barbicans and is advancing on the main city. What should we do?”

Wu Xiang was momentarily stunned. He frowned, said nothing, and sat quietly, his face pale.

“Commander, you must speak! You are the soldiers’ pillar!” the deputy urged.

“How should I know?” Wu Xiang finally snapped, angered. “Who knows where those Xuanda bastards got those sky-flying contraptions? We can only take hits on the walls—we can’t retaliate. What do you want me to do?”

A vice general suggested, “Commander, why don’t we open the gates for Yue Yang? After all, he’s only here to deliver the imperial edict. Let’s hear him out.”

“Smack!”

Before he finished, Wu Sangui slapped him loudly.

“Shut your mouth!” Wu Sangui shouted, his eyes bloodshot. “You eat from our Wu family, wear our Wu family’s armor, and now want to welcome the enemy in? What are you thinking?”

Though Wu Sangui’s words were technically treasonous, no one had time to pursue that now. The vice general, blushing from the slap, dared not speak again.

Wu Sangui’s face darkened as he ground his teeth. After a long pause, he said, “There’s no retreat. Opening the gates leads only to death. Yue Yang is ruthless—he massacred under imperial orders, forced even Lord Hong Chengchou from Xuanda, and besieged key cities like Taiyuan and Datong. He was appointed Xuanda Governor due to his fearsome reputation. Do you think he would spare us if we let him in? No. The only way is to fight to the death. Only then might we survive!”

His final words were a roar, hoarse yet deadly. His eyes swept over the generals like a predator. Then, looking at his father, he said, “Father, the survival of the Wu family is at stake. We must act!”

Wu Xiang took several deep breaths and bellowed, as if bolstering his courage: “Eldest uncle is right. Yue Yang kills without mercy. If he captures us, there’s no hope. Only by uniting as one can we survive. The Xuanda army is strong, but our Guanning Iron Cavalry is not weak. If we stand together, we can repel Yue Yang! Victory to the Liaodong army!”

“Victory!”

Though not a brilliant strategist, Wu Xiang had years of experience and knew how to inspire troops. After his speech, morale lifted. The vice general slapped by Wu Sangui stood and shouted, “Commander speaks rightly! We’ll fight even if we lose our heads!”

“Yes! Up the walls, fight them!” other generals joined. The cave’s atmosphere surged with energy.

After a brief pause, the generals and the Wu father and son ascended the walls. They positioned the troops, bringing in specially made steel shields weighing 10–20 jin each, held by two soldiers, large enough to cover four or five men. The aerial threat was mitigated, and morale rose.

“Ah, these Wu father and son are clever. Their years of experience weren’t wasted,” Yue Yang remarked, surprised. Surrounding generals laughed.

Hu Dawei suggested, “Lord, with the barbicans taken, we could push the artillery onto the walls and blast them.”

Chu Di added, “Even with their shields, they can only block bullets. If we drop the Ten-Thousand Enemy units, I don’t believe they can block those!”

Plans and strategies flew as they prepared their next move.

After capturing the two barbicans, the Xuanda army paused. The battlefield fell into an eerie silence, though both sides knew it was temporary. Greater fighting was imminent.

The cold wind pierced through, but the defenders had no time to notice. They prepared stones, logs, arrows, and crossbows. Cannoneers brought baskets of ammunition to the red cannons, ready to strike any intruder.

Seeing these preparations, Yue Yang’s generals could no longer remain calm. Even Shunbao gasped, “They still have so many red cannons?”

Yang Guozhu said gravely, “Shanhaiguan is called the first pass under heaven—it’s no wonder. Even with much of the annual 4-million-liang military stipend spent, the remainder was enough to procure these cannons.”

Wu Chengfeng added, “A frontal assault would cost us dearly.”

The generals, who had initially underestimated the Wu father and son, now looked serious.

“Then we strike from above!” Yue Yang’s demeanor became firm. “Order the high-altitude reconnaissance corps to load the Ten-Thousand Enemy units and bombs, then ascend to bombard the defenders!”

“Yes!”

The balloons ascended again, this time carrying Ten-Thousand Enemy units and large bombs. These homemade bombs had hollow iron shells filled with black powder, stones, and iron beads, weighing over twenty jin, specially designed for siege assault.

As the six balloons hovered over Shanhaiguan, the defenders watched anxiously. Some cursed, unable to act.

Wu Sanfu asked his older brother, Wu Sanfeng, “Brother, has the Xuanda army made another new weapon?”

Wu Sanfeng patted him on the shoulder, “Don’t worry. We’re protected by steel shields; their bullets can’t reach us.”

As he spoke, one of the balloons dropped a black object that fell swiftly toward the walls, causing panic among the defenders. Fortunately, it fell just inside the wall rather than on top, but the impact shook the ground slightly.

Wu Sanfeng wiped his sweat, cursing, “Damn Xuanda army, they’re throwing iron balls!”

“Boom!”

A deafening explosion shook the wall. The blast wave made the walls tremble.

“It’s gunpowder—they packed it inside the iron balls!”

Elsewhere, Wu Sangui’s face turned pale. He realized Xuanda was no longer playing with bullets—they were using explosives.