Chapter 39

It was as if an invisible wave of wind had swept through, causing the reed beds to tremble. In the nearest reed bed to the shore, like a startled bird's nest, dozens of small boats suddenly emerged, rowing frantically towards the waterwheel ship that had been deliberately stranded.

The boats were filled with attackers who, despite the cold, had their torsos bare and wielded knives and bows. They roared and shouted, splashing water and chanting, advancing menacingly. Some of the watermen began to feel their legs go weak or tremble.

Small boats were lowered, carrying several watermen who jumped into the water and began sawing at the wooden stakes. Then a man screamed, struck by an arrow from the shore, and sank with the arrow and a splash of blood.

At this moment, several waterwheel ships also approached, and the archers on board began to return fire. After a few screams from the reed beds, the arrows finally stopped.

Then the small boats took the opportunity to close in on the stranded waterwheel ship. The attackers could be seen crouching by the sides of their boats, their faces twisted with mud and grime, their purpose clear: to specifically attack the stranded ship and force the others to surrender.

The archers concentrated their fire on these small boats, and people fell into the water, blood spurting. But more attackers, using crude wooden rafts and fishing nets, climbed onto the sides of the ship, screaming as they did so.

At this moment, a dark shadow swooped down. It was the rotating paddle, swung with full force, sweeping several climbers away like fallen leaves, smashing them into a large boat, which broke into two pieces with a crack. It then lifted again, smashing the bodies on another large boat, flinging them against the hull like rags, leaving only bubbles and blood as they sank.

The watermen on the ship, enraged, raised the sharp ends of their oars or sharp wooden spears and thrust them heavily into the bodies of the climbers. The attackers fell, blood gushing, but more of them climbed over the bodies of the injured and dead, and began to fight back.

On the deck, the watermen resisted, but some were dragged off balance by the attackers' hooks and fell into the water, or were struck by clubs thrown from below, or were caught by boat hooks and fishing nets, tumbling and rolling into a heap.

Amidst the chaos of arrows flying, I could only hide on another ship and watch as a bystander. The paddle, after sweeping the side of the ship and breaking another boat, got stuck, entangled by several fishing nets, and could no longer be turned, no matter how hard the handle was shaken.

At this moment, other items that had been brought on board were taken out. They were fishy-smelling jars, which were thrown heavily, splashing onto the attackers and their boats. Then, as torches were thrown, a loud explosion turned the area into a fiery inferno, engulfing several boats and their occupants.

The remaining boats scattered in a panic, and those who were too slow were burned and fell into the water, screaming. However, the burning substance, which seemed to be fish oil, did not last long on the water's surface. The attackers on the other side climbed up again, using short knives, clubs, and familiar fishing nets and hooks as weapons, beating the watermen on the deck until they were bloodied and retreating.

The captain of the ship, leading a few crew members, stepped forward, wielding knives and spears to hold back the fierce attackers. Suddenly, the captain was hooked by a flying hook, dragged down, and pulled overboard, bleeding profusely, with no hope of rescue.

The remaining crew lost their fighting spirit and were quickly overwhelmed and cut down by the attackers. The attackers cut various ropes and sails, determined to seize the waterwheel ship.

"Quickly..."

The young ship owner, nearby, turned pale and shouted in anger.

"Bring out that thing..."

Before he could finish,

"Here it comes..."

Old Xu, the captain, led his men to carry out several tube-like objects from the cabin, placing them heavily on wooden stands, and then stuffing them with something, ramming it tightly with wooden rods.

Aiming at the direction with the most attackers, he lit the fuse, and there was a loud explosion and a cloud of smoke. A dense spray of white water splashed up, and the rain-like sound of impact came from the crowded boats. The attackers on board screamed and fell into the water in a heap.

Then the second and third tubes were fired, like a sudden storm. With each successive explosion, the attackers' arms and faces were shredded, and they could only grope their bloodied heads and faces, turning in circles and screaming, as the watermen, their spirits lifted, stabbed and pushed them into the water.

The other attackers who had climbed up were also driven back, unable to resist the approaching support and threats from the other waterwheel ships.

The remaining attackers finally lost their will to fight and, with a loud splash, the outermost attackers began to row away or jump into the water, fleeing in disarray.

At this moment, the other waterwheel ships, slowly moving, came into play, ramming and capsizing the fleeing boats, which were spinning in circles.

Then, with the tips of their oars and paddles, they viciously stabbed and beat the attackers who had fallen into the water, until they stopped struggling and sank, blood mixing with the water. The sounds of their struggles and cries were a mix of triumph and relief.

After a while, the ship fleet, lacking the strength to pursue the attackers who had fled to the shore, only sank the boats hanging from the sides of the ships and threw the bodies into the water.

I, who had been helping the injured, finally had a chance to take a closer look at the object they had taken out with such solemnity. It looked like a piece of tree trunk that had been shaved down.

Although it had been painted, it still showed the texture of the wood. I couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed; this was none other than the homemade weapon from the war of resistance—the pine wood cannon.

"Please, Doctor Xia, keep this a secret,"

Old Xu, the captain, walked over with a bloodied arm and whispered.

"Those who make a living on the water have their taboos..."

"Of course,"

I nodded.

The wooden stakes that obstructed navigation were finally cleared, and with the help of the remaining crew, the stranded waterwheel ship was quickly rowed to deeper water, far from the shore. Everyone could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

The rest of the time was spent punishing and interrogating those who had fled or shown cowardice during the battle. About a dozen watermen were stripped and tied to the sides of the ships, and each was whipped in turn.

But compared to the captured attackers who were interrogated in the cabin and occasionally dragged out as bloody corpses, they were much luckier, at least for the time being.

I was on the deck, treating and examining the injured, assessing whether they needed further treatment, and providing basic first aid and bandages. Since I was overwhelmed, I called for help from a head-hugging croucher.

Dressed in men's clothing, she looked nauseated by the heavy blood, but having been through so much with me, she was at least a marginally competent helper.

Despite this, I was busy until nightfall, and the air was thick with the smell of blood. Limbs and bodies were thrown into the water, and the screams of the injured, whose wounds were being cauterized with hot coals, echoed continuously. I hadn't expected that the thing I had just agreed to would be put to use so soon.

The young ship owner, reappearing with a smile, encouraged everyone, announcing that he would reward those who had fought to protect the ship and provide compensation for the dead and injured.

But from the expression in his eyes, I could sense a hidden worry. And during the treatment of Old Xu's arm, his vague mutterings suggested that the attack by the water bandits was not so simple, or perhaps not a mere chance encounter.

Well, I could complain, it really was a chaotic world, where trouble could befall you anywhere.

Although they had repelled the unexpected attack by the water bandits and the cargo on the ship was largely intact, the losses among the watermen and ship workers were significant. There were about thirty to forty dead, and even more who were injured and unable to do physical labor.

More critically, the experienced and skilled ship workers on the lead ship, who relied on their expertise and technique, had lost seven or eight, severely impacting the fleet's journey.

They could only redistribute some of the crew from other ships to maintain the remaining voyage.

Then, the appearance of ships on the horizon made everyone tense again. Upon seeing the flags, it turned out to be the belated naval forces from Huncheng.

Like the police who always arrive last in TV dramas, they sailed their single-sailed fast ships slowly over, brandishing weapons and shouting loudly, asking where the bandits were, and then pretending to be on guard against the non-existent water bandits.

They looked suspiciously and menacingly at the battle scars, bloodstains, and personnel on the ship, and were then led by the young ship owner to the top cabin. After a while, they emerged with a different expression.

The leading officer waved his hand, ordering the remaining live bandits to be taken away. Then they left a small boat to guide us.

I later found out that they were there to claim credit, and perhaps had other intentions, such as blackmail and extortion. However, the ship owner was no pushover and had strong backing.

Therefore, according to the final agreement, they took the credit for the major defeat of the bandits.

In exchange for not being held responsible or reported to the authorities, the Huncheng naval forces would allow the fleet to dock and rest at a local water fort and provide supplies and materials, including a batch of weapons that had been lost.

They would also escort us to the state capital, thus our journey was interrupted at Huncheng.

News came that the southern states of Cao and Hua had erupted into war again, and the important town of Jinyin on the lower reaches of the Jishui River was blockaded, with many official and civilian ships being requisitioned for military use.

It seemed we had no choice but to take the land route. Liu, the ship owner, who was returning, arranged for me to join a merchant caravan from a familiar household, traveling from Gongzhou to Huai and Si.

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