In an instant, Gao Chuwu secured a foothold atop the city wall.
Behind him, militia soldiers steadily climbed the ropes, one after another, swarming up onto the ramparts.
A Manchu warrior roared, "Cut the ropes!"
Someone swung his blade down with all his strength at the rope loop fastened to a protruding stone. A sharp clang rang out—but the loop remained intact.
The Manchu soldier stared at his blade in stunned disbelief, utterly confused.
That was no ordinary rope. It was a steel cable—no, many thin steel wires twisted together into a thick cord. How could a crude iron blade possibly sever it?
The soldiers of Gao Family Village continued climbing the steel cables without pause, carving out their position atop the city walls.
Bayonets were fixed to flintlock rifles.
They fought in close quarters, seizing any opening to fire a shot.
Years later, when the Japanese invaded China, they often complained that Chinese soldiers would suddenly fire during bayonet charges, calling it "unchivalrous."
What a joke. What right did invaders have to speak of chivalry?
They were striking exactly where it hurt most.
The militia soldiers had already loaded bullets into their rifles.
With bayonets gleaming, they looked ready for a traditional bayonet duel with the Manchu. The Manchu warriors, in turn, earnestly raised their spears, fully expecting a fair exchange… but halfway through a bayonet thrust, a militia soldier calmly pulled the trigger.
"Bang!"
Another fool fell.
The Manchu defenders simply could not withstand such a "three-dimensional" assault.
In only a few moments, the Manchu forces suffered a crushing defeat, and Yanmen Pass changed hands.
Of the five hundred Manchu soldiers defending the pass, only two hundred managed to flee through the north gate. The remaining three hundred died at Yanmen Pass.
The Gao Family Village Militia did not pursue them. Flintlock riflemen were poorly suited for a chase, and clearing the battlefield was the priority.
Before long, a militia soldier discovered a Manchu still clinging to life among the corpses.
"Report, there's an injured—mmph!"
Another soldier immediately clapped a hand over his mouth and whispered, "Injured? What injured? There are no injured here, only dead men." As he spoke, he drove his bayonet into the wounded Manchu's chest with a dull, sickening thud.
The first soldier froze, staring at him. "You…"
The man who had struck whispered back, "If this fellow goes back alive, he'll end up in a Labor Reform Camp. Do you really want people like him living in Gao Family Village? Didn't you watch that movie about the border soldier at the Daling River? Did you watch it for nothing?"
Understanding dawned on the first soldier. "Right, right, right!"
Much later, the battlefield had been completely cleared.
A subordinate reported to Gao Chuwu, "Report. The battlefield has been cleared. Not a single prisoner was taken. All enemies are dead."
Gao Chuwu said, "Oh? These fellows are really fragile. They just die from a single hit?"
Perched on his shoulder, Dao Xuan Tianzhun let out a quiet chuckle. "Do you think I don't know? You finished off all the wounded."
The subordinate's face flushed red at once. "Well… ahem… please mete out punishment, Dao Xuan Tianzhun."
"I won't punish you," Dao Xuan Tianzhun said calmly. "Killing is killing. There's nothing to punish."
His tone then grew heavier. "To kill or not to kill—both are paths, both may be chosen. Different choices merely lead to different futures. But remember this: throughout history, there has never been a case where slaughter alone led to the complete submission or extinction of another people. Never. The world is vast. How many carry Manchu blood? Can you truly kill them all with a blade? Ran Min's slaughter of the Five Barbarians achieved only a temporary effect. In the end, it failed to eradicate the barbarian threat to the Central Plains."
Dao Xuan Tianzhun sighed softly. "In the end, the most effective means of conquering foreign peoples… is culture."
The soldiers listened with respect, though they did not fully understand. Perhaps this generation never would. But when the next generation of Gao Family Village—children like Liu Maopao—grew up, they surely would.
Northeast of Daizhou, south of Datong Prefecture.
Huangcaoping Village.
Despite its name, Huangcaoping—Yellow Grassland—was no plain at all. It was mountainous terrain, with dark, dense forests and rugged paths that were difficult to traverse.
Lao Nanfeng, leading his former Guyuan border troops along with a large number of new recruits from Puzhou—three thousand men in total—was stationed on a slope in Huangcaoping.
Below the slope stretched the vast plains under Datong Prefecture. At the edge of the plain lay a small settlement known as Wangjiayao Village.
Lao Nanfeng glanced down from the hilltop, then pointed at the largest gentry manor in Wangjiayao Village and chuckled. "Let's go. We're going to loot that family."
The old Guyuan veterans beside him sucked in sharp breaths. "Brother Nanfeng, you can't do that! What were all those years in Labor Reform for? Isn't the Flower World Star Agency good enough for us now? We don't want to go back to the Labor Reform Camp!"
Lao Nanfeng burst out laughing. "What are you thinking? I run the super-profitable Flower World Star Agency. Would I really care about the little wealth of some minor gentry household? The 'looting' I'm talking about isn't what you think."
Everyone looked at him in confusion. "Huh?"
Lao Nanfeng cackled. "We're setting a trap for the Manchu."
Half an hour later…
Lao Nanfeng arrived outside the gates of the largest household in Wangjiayao Village with a large contingent of his men. The family, surnamed Wang, was a local gentry clan of modest means.
Recently, the Manchu had been pillaging without restraint around Xuanfu and Datong, throwing the Wang family into constant terror. They did not know when the Manchu might reach Wangjiayao Village, and fear gnawed at them day and night.
As a result, they had gathered all the common folk of Wangjiayao Village into their fortified manor, distributed weapons, and organized themselves to withstand a siege, as though playing a grim game of tower defense.
It was in this state that Lao Nanfeng arrived.
He stood before the fortress gate with his hands on his hips, completely ignoring the village militia aiming bows from atop the walls. He shouted loudly, "Who's in charge of this fortress? Come out and speak!"
Soon, the head of the Wang family appeared, peering nervously over the wall at Lao Nanfeng. "General, who might you be?"
Lao Nanfeng snorted. "I'm a general from the border army. My surname is Nan."
The Wang family head immediately forced a flattering smile. "Greetings, General Nan."
Lao Nanfeng said, "The Manchu are about to arrive. Do you know that?" He pointed toward the northwest. "In that direction, there are two thousand Manchu cavalry raiders pillaging everywhere. In about half an hour, they'll reach Wangjiayao Village."
The news nearly scared the Wang family head out of his wits. "Half an hour? General, save me!"
Lao Nanfeng snorted coldly. "I couldn't care less about saving you. What I need now is for your entire family to dedicate your lives to the imperial court—to serve as bait for us."
The Wang family head's face drained of all color. "What?!"
Lao Nanfeng continued, "When the Manchu arrive, you resist with all your might. Don't run, even if it means death. Hold this fortress firmly. I'll lead my troops to encircle them from the outside and strike them from front and rear. Do you understand?"
The look on the Wang family head's face was utterly priceless, as though it said: Sacrifice my family? Have you lost your mind?
Yet the words that came out of his mouth were entirely different. "I will respectfully follow General Nan's orders."