Chapter 6

Amidst the rain of arrows, the crackling of muskets, the cries of battle echoing across the hills, and the flickering torchlight revealing the grotesque faces, Xiaotian finally understood how brutal warfare in the age of cold weapons could be. Watching heads being sliced off by steel blades, the sense of reality was something no 3D game could ever provide.

Over a hundred bows fired in four consecutive volleys, pinning down the caravan and crushing their morale to the lowest point. At this moment, the camp was in complete chaos, and all commands had become ineffective. People were fighting purely on instinct. No matter how much Master Qing shouted, no one would listen to him.

Looking at Mr. Fan, the old man had quite a bit of courage. Standing on the swaying altar, he loudly encouraged the troops, increasing the reward for victory to 60,000 taels of silver. But at this moment, who would care about money? His encouragement was like a moon in the water or a flower in the mirror.

The most courageous resistance still came from Lewis and Simon. These two cowboys had no trace of the compassionate missionaries they once were, firing their guns with the precision of gods of war. However, their bravery could not change the overall situation. Over a hundred bandits had already mixed with the caravan, and the temple was packed with people.

And the most terrifying thing was that the bandits had guns. Although only a few sporadic shots were heard, when the gunshots rang out, everyone realized that these were not just bandits; they were definitely a small army.

"What the hell kind of fight is this... You bunch of good-for-nothings, listen to my command..." Xiaotian somehow found a horsewhip and lashed the apprentice who was trembling as he loaded the musket with iron sand. He had no time for anything else; his only thought was to survive.

"All musketeers, gather around me. Damn it, I'll teach you how to use the guns... Shit, you didn't even load gunpowder, just iron sand? I'll beat you to death..."

Xiaotian ran around the temple, dragging every musketeer he saw into a group. Eventually, even Lewis and Simon joined him on either side.

The caravan had only ten muskets, the oldest kind that fired iron sand. But in the current chaotic situation, these scatter guns were actually more useful.

"Follow my command, load the gunpowder..." Xiaotian had never thought he could be so violent. If any of the ten apprentices were slow, he would lash them. In the chaos, people naturally followed the orders of the strongest. Xiaotian's presence was the most commanding, with a revolver in one hand and a whip in the other, and no one dared to resist.

"Aim at the old locust tree on the left... Fire..." With a loud shout, Xiaotian felt his vocal cords almost tear. The ten apprentices fired almost instinctively, and the iron sand flew out like a dark cloud.

The ten bandits who had just flanked in from the left side of the temple door never expected to be hit by a cloud of high-speed iron sand. They were instantly turned into a mess of bloody faces, crying and rolling on the ground. But Xiaotian had no time to admire his work.

"Load the gunpowder, all of you... Load the gunpowder..." He jumped around the ten apprentices, lashing anyone who was slow. Under his pressure, the ten apprentices reloaded as fast as they had ever done.

"Follow my command... Aim at the white rock on the right... Fire..."

"Follow my command... All load the gunpowder..."

"Follow my command... Aim at the center... Fire..."

"All caravan apprentices and soldiers, get down, get down..."

Xiaotian, like a madman, used his whip and revolver to force this makeshift musket team to perform a standard volley fire. In his previous life, this shooting method was known as "排队枪毙" (排队 means "line up" and 枪毙 means "execute by firing squad").

Xiaotian knew that this shooting method did not require individual bravery or accuracy but only discipline—uniform loading and firing to create a dense curtain of bullets. No martial arts expert could penetrate such a curtain.

Four years ago, the Anglo-French allied forces used this musket formation to defeat the Mongolian cavalry of Senggelinqin at the Battle of Baliqiao. It was clear that even fast horses could hardly penetrate such a curtain, let alone these bandits on foot.

Xiaotian was now a madman, completely hysterical, with only a white fog of gunpowder smoke and darkness behind him. The slope leading up was only about ten meters wide, so he just needed to alternate firing to the left, center, and right.

"Fire, hurry up... Those in front, get down, I won't be responsible for friendly fire... Fire to the left, load the gunpowder... Fire to the right..." As he was shouting, two strong men suddenly pinned him to the ground from the left and behind.

"Snap out of it, you're losing it... Wake up, the enemy has retreated..." Then a bowl of cold water was splashed on Xiaotian's face, and he finally came to his senses.

Xiaotian opened his eyes and found himself leaning against the temple doorpost. The crowd around him was thick with grateful eyes.

"Mr. Xiao, thank you for saving us in this crisis. Please accept my gratitude..." Mr. Fan was about to kneel, but Xiaotian quickly jumped up to support him, knowing that an old man of nearly seventy should not kneel.

"You're making me lose years of life... In a crisis, there's no need for so many thanks. How are our brothers? Are the losses significant?"

At this moment, Master Qing also walked over with an awkward face. "You're a real man. You solved a situation that was certain death. Even though I later understood your method, you thought of it when I didn't, so you're better than me..." Oh, this Eight Banners descendant can really lower his head, which is quite rare.

"Xiao, you are excellent. I now believe you have indeed traveled in the West and understand the military. In such a chaotic situation, I didn't even think of forming a musket formation, but you not only thought of it but also applied it flexibly. You are great..." Lewis and Simon gave him a thumbs up.

Xiaotian smiled bitterly. "Don't be too happy yet. Let me see the current situation." By the light of the torches, Xiaotian crouched on the low wall and was immediately hit by the smell of blood. It was like a hell of slaughter.

In front of the temple and at the edge of the slope, over sixty bodies lay scattered, with about forty of them being bandits and the rest caravan apprentices. Blood had already formed a small stream, dripping down in the darkness.

Sixty people, in his previous life, that would be half a company. To lose so many in just a short time showed how intense the conflict had been. Without Xiaotian's temporary organization of the musket team, the outcome would have been unimaginable.

"Old Mr. Fan, is there anyone among the apprentices with a loud voice and good at negotiation? Let him call out. We can't keep fighting blindly..." Xiaotian had become the military leader of the caravan, and no one dared to disobey his orders. Soon, a large, dark figure crawled to the big locust tree.

"Boss on the hill... We are the Fan family's caravan from Shanxi. Passing through your territory without paying respects was our mistake. Please bear with us..." Before he could finish, two flashes of light appeared in the darkness, followed by countless iron sand pellets hitting the leaves.

Xiaotian's heart sank. "Why is this happening? They don't even want to negotiate? They just want us dead?" He looked at Mr. Fan and Master Qing.

After thinking for a long time, no one could figure out who their enemy was. Xiaotian, seeing no answers, could only sigh. "Let's hold out for the night and see if there's any change tomorrow..."

Xiaotian turned from the low wall and found that no one in the caravan was resting. They were all gathered in the courtyard, staring at him as if he were a savior. At the broken window of the temple, two little girls' heads were also staring at him, making Xiaotian feel a bit embarrassed.

At the front of the crowd were the ten musketeers who had made a significant contribution. They had recovered from their initial shock and were now standing proudly, ready for Xiaotian's inspection. Xiaotian looked at the tears in their cotton jackets and the scars on their faces, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"You... Are you all okay? I was a bit harsh just now, but it was to save everyone. Don't hate me..."

"We don't hate... The master's whip is to make us better. These few lashes are nothing. When we learned our skills, our masters hit us much harder... A man cannot be free and comfortable at the same time..."

Xiaotian blushed. Look at their understanding; they even found excuses for him. What good apprentices they were. Maybe by teaching them a bit of knowledge, they automatically saw him as a master. In ancient times, the relationship between a master and a disciple was as close as that between a father and a son.

"Work hard. We must hold this slope tonight. Remember the method I taught you. Left, center, right. The left is the big locust tree, the center is the slope, and the right is the white rock. You don't need to aim at people; just aim at the reference points..."

As the night deepened, the caravan people began to rest, and Xiaotian also hurried to catch some sleep at the back of the temple. Meanwhile, the bandits at the foot of the mountain had no time to rest; they had been in a meeting for over an hour.

"Your Highness, let me charge again. The brothers cannot die in vain..." Kneeling by the fire was a man in his forties with gray hair and a beard, a three-foot-long steel saber lying beside him.

In front of the gray-bearded man sat a man in his mid-thirties, with a square face, sword-like eyebrows, and a very robust build. Despite his martial appearance, he had a touch of elegance. He was the man the gray-bearded man called "Your Highness."

The prince did not speak but played with the single-barrel brass telescope in his hand, a precious Western item. He raised his hand, signaling the gray-bearded man to sit beside him. "In the evening, I saw that our intelligence was inaccurate. A strange young man suddenly appeared..."

"Who cares if he's strange or not? I'll cut him down with one stroke. We want the silver, the Manchus, and the foreigners. None of them will escape..."

Seeing the prince fall silent, the impatient gray-bearded man knelt again. "Your Highness, don't hesitate. Let me charge again. Over forty brothers cannot die in vain..."

With a slap, the gray-bearded man's face immediately turned purple. "How many times have I told you? The past me is dead, dead... If you mention any of my past titles again, I will cut off your head myself..."