Chapter 3

In the midst of the battle, it was now extremely difficult to turn the tide. However, even if it was risky, they still had to find a feasible way. Attacking the infantry formation head-on, not to mention the immense destructive power of the foreign soldiers' three-line formation, the combination of the Armstrong heavy artillery and the dense layers of bayonets was enough to leave the cavalry at a loss.

"How can we hold back the French army without attacking their formation?" This time, Sheng Bao could no longer underestimate Guan Zhuofan and asked with a frown.

Of course, it was necessary to find the enemy's weakness. Guan Zhuofan was not a military expert, but the Battle of Baliqiao had been thoroughly studied by historians in later generations. The French army's deployment was overly bold, with obvious weaknesses.

The weakness was in the northern artillery position of their two artillery positions. For ease of attack, this artillery position was set up close to the front line and had to be protected by the firepower and mobility of the infantry and cavalry.

Guan Zhuofan knew that to achieve victory in this war, the Anglo-French allied forces had gathered three elite cavalry units from around the world. The British Household Cavalry had already moved north to encircle and flank Senggelinqin's main force, while another powerful cavalry unit, the French "Spahi" cavalry unit formed in their African colonies, was still on its way to the battlefield. Now, if they could lure away the Sikh cavalry, leaving the French artillery position without protection, the Qing army might have a chance to succeed.

"Please send a detachment to lure the Sikh cavalry out to the south," Guan Zhuofan pointed out to Sheng Bao, "The main force should directly charge the artillery position on the left side of the French army. Whether they pass through or around the formation, the goal is to force the foreign troops moving towards Baliqiao to come to the rescue, giving Prince Senggelinqin time to reorganize his lines. Then, whether we fight or retreat, the credit will be yours."

This was the last chance, and it all depended on whether Sheng Bao would listen.

Sheng Bao considered it nervously and finally nodded slowly. He turned to his deputy, De Ming, and said, "Old De, you lead five hundred cavalry to charge at Leijia Wa again. As soon as you encounter the black-armored cavalry, turn south and lead them away—remember, under no circumstances are you to return to the main formation!"

"Got it, leave it to me!" De Ming accepted the order, his facial muscles twitching, and he looked fiercely ahead, raising his saber and waving it forward, "First Battalion, First Company, follow me!"

Five hundred cavalrymen charged along the same route as Su Cheng'e's first charge, making it look like another assault. As expected, the Sikh cavalry also moved forward to intercept. The moment the two cavalry units touched, the Qing army turned south, and the Sikh cavalry pursued without hesitation, determined to crush this group of Qing soldiers.

At this moment, everyone knew that the full-scale charge was about to begin.

"Gu San," the six men who had been untied with Guan Zhuofan were lined up at the front of the formation, gathered together. One of them, a bearded officer, said in a low voice, "I always thought you were a coward, but I didn't expect you to be so brave! No matter who survives today, we all owe you a debt of gratitude!"

Guan Zhuofan nodded—he didn't know their names or what to say. They recognized him, but he didn't recognize them, which was truly helpless. He briefly examined his current body, which was tall and strong.

"Commander," another assistant by Sheng Bao's side suddenly pointed to the distant Baliqiao and said in a low voice, "Look, it's Prince Seng."

Guan Zhuofan couldn't help but look in the direction he pointed. In the distance, at the head of Baliqiao, the Mongolian knights, who had suffered heavy casualties after several charges, once again formed a line. In the center stood a tall warhorse, and the general on the horse held a large yellow flag in both hands, waving it left and right amidst the cannon fire and smoke, still challenging the British army.

This was the fierce Mongolian Iron Hat Prince, Guan Zhuofan thought, recalling the flagpole in the museum. Prince Senggelinqin's brave action was also a great encouragement to Sheng Bao and his Beijing troops.

"Brothers, let's charge again and break the French devils' artillery position! Today is the day to build our achievements and use the blood of the foreign devils to honor the fallen heroes!" Sheng Bao shouted, "The seven of us in the center lead the charge, kill!"

"Kill—!" The cavalrymen responded with a roar. Guan Zhuofan gritted his teeth, steeled his heart, and spurred his horse forward, leading the other six horses to charge at the French army's position, followed by over three thousand frenzied Beijing cavalry. The seven men who had escaped death from the executioner's axe had no retreat, and their minds were filled with the same thought: survive and enjoy life!

The French artillery began to fire, and the sound of shrapnel explosions echoed, with the cries of men and horses coming from behind Guan Zhuofan. After charging forward a few dozen steps, the dense volleys from the infantry formations on both sides began, and the horses around him started to fall one by one.

The battlefield was a strange place; when people were forced to the brink of death, they often discarded their usual concerns about life and death. Guan Zhuofan was enveloped by a mysterious fervor, waving his saber with his right hand and controlling the reins with his left, leaning forward and charging, with only one thought in his mind: charge in and cut down these bastards!

His plan had succeeded! Whether it was the Sikh cavalry pursuing Deputy De Ming or the Household Cavalry flanking Prince Seng's rear, they were now frantically turning back to intercept, but they couldn't catch up instantly and were left trailing behind the rapidly advancing Qing cavalry. The French infantry on both sides also moved quickly to try to cover the gap in their formation.

But it was too late. The Beijing cavalry, resisting the gunfire from both flanks and ignoring the pursuing foreign cavalry, finally approached the French artillery position with fourteen cannons, like a rising tide, unstoppable, and quickly overwhelmed the artillery position.

The French soldiers at the artillery position were in chaos, with gunners, powder handlers, and ammunition handlers scattering, hiding under the gun carriages, or taking up their rifles to resist, but often only firing one shot before being cut down by the surging cavalry.

Guan Zhuofan charged at the front, his saber flashing in the air, his heart filled with a strange sense of satisfaction and indescribable joy—what a badass!

Now, with the remaining two thousand cavalry following his yellow horse, he didn't stop to cut and kill, as this would immediately put the cavalry unit at risk of being surrounded and destroyed by the French. So, amidst the cries of the French artillerymen, the entire cavalry unit passed through the artillery position, emerged from the east, made a wide circle, and galloped back to their own lines. Guan Zhuofan knew that each of the French twelve-pound cannons required eight gunners. With nearly two hundred French soldiers on the artillery position, more than half were certainly casualties, and the artillery position was now effectively paralyzed.

This assault was clean and beautiful. The other French artillery position, having recovered from the chaos, began to fire in retaliation. Seeing their own lines in the distance, Guan Zhuofan really wanted to laugh out loud, completely ignoring the occasional explosions of shells.

At this moment, a shell exploded in front of him, and Guan Zhuofan, along with his horse, was thrown into the air by the blast, his vision went black, and he fainted again.

*

*

After an unknown amount of time, Guan Zhuofan slowly regained consciousness. Opening his eyes, he saw the deep night, with a bright moon illuminating the open ground. The weapons and flags abandoned during the day's battle, as well as the bodies of men and horses, were scattered around him. The opposing armies had vanished, and the surroundings were silent.

He stood up and, under the moonlight, examined himself. Seeing no external injuries, he felt relieved, knowing he had survived. Recalling how he had been complaining about the weather in the museum that morning, and now had narrowly escaped death several times, he felt as if he had lived through a different era.

"It is a different era, after all." Guan Zhuofan smiled bitterly. According to the historical records of the Battle of Baliqiao, today should be the eighth month of the tenth year of the Qing Xianfeng era, more than a hundred years before his time.

He began to admire his own composure—being able to laugh in such a situation.

What he didn't know was that the sudden life-and-death test he had encountered after his穿越 had greatly tempered his mindset in a short time, masking the overwhelming sense of despair that came with the穿越.

It was hard to believe that he had been struck by lightning...

Was it possible to go back? Guan Zhuofan searched with his eyes and finally found his bright saber on the ground nearby. He imagined a stormy night when he would stand like a spear on the peak of a mountain, raising the saber high and pointing it to the sky, until a powerful lightning bolt struck the blade...

He would probably be burned to a crisp, he shook his head. Being struck by lightning was a once-in-a-lifetime experience; he couldn't afford to be so arrogant again.

Thinking of his parents, friends, and classmates in the other world, his heart still felt troubled. But no matter what, he couldn't just give up and end his life.

So, he decided to live well in this era.

Once he made this decision, he felt a sudden sense of relief. He found his dead yellow horse, took out a water bag and dry rations from the saddlebag, and sat by the horse, eating and quietly pondering his current situation.

This was one of the darkest and most chaotic times in Chinese history. The Manchu court, which had ruled Central China for over two hundred years, was beginning to decline. The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, established by Hong Xiuquan in Nanjing, had also rapidly degenerated. Meanwhile, the formidable enemies from the West were using their powerful ships and cannons to force open the gates of this Eastern continent.

This was a great transformation unseen in three thousand years.

But what could he, a small穿越er, do in such a situation?

The person he had穿越 into was likely a coward who had fainted or died from fear when tied up to be executed, which was why he had穿越 into his body. This person seemed to have decent skills with a saber and horse, which he had inherited as part of his original body's memory.

As for Sheng Bao's words—“Although you are my kinsman,”—he didn't know how distant this kinship was. The Manchus liked to claim kinship, and even families with no apparent connection could be linked through convoluted relationships. Considering his identity, Sheng Bao probably wouldn't take the initiative to claim kinship with him, so it was likely that his family had somehow ingratiated themselves with Sheng Bao's household.

The Guan family? Interesting, very interesting... In a way, this identity was the best camouflage.

As he ate and thought, he soon felt full. Wiping his mouth, he stood up, looked at the moon in the sky, and the shadow of Baliqiao in the distance, determined his direction, sheathed his saber, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed north. After a few steps, he suddenly realized: by taking this saber, it would no longer appear in the Baliqiao Museum in the future.

I will change history.

So what? Guan Zhuofan laughed at himself for being overly concerned about a saber, tightened the strap of his bag, and continued on his way without hesitation.

First, he needed to find out who he was.