The moment Bai Yuan gave the order, the Bai family's hired hands standing beside the trebuchets and giant crossbows instantly sprang into action. They yanked away the black cloths covering the machines, and in a heartbeat, ten trebuchets and ten giant crossbow-carts stood proudly on display.
The trebuchets were hidden behind the parapets—bandits outside couldn't see them at all. But the crossbow-carts were mounted right on the battlements and corner towers. The moment they were uncovered, the bandits outside froze in shock.
Shuangchihu, charging at the front, blinked hard. "Huh?!"
Bai Yuan didn't give him time to think. "Trebuchets—fire!"
Two blacksmiths raised their heavy hammers and brought them down hard on the firing mechanisms.
Boom!
The giant arms of the makeshift trebuchets snapped upward, hurling two massive stones in a high arc over the wall.
The stones whistled overhead and slammed into the charging bandits. One landed squarely in the center of their formation—flattening two men instantly. The other missed by a few paces, slammed into the dirt, and rolled several times, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Shuangchihu stared. "What the—?!"
His men screamed, panicking like frightened rabbits.
Several definitely wet their pants.
Shuangchihu's mind went blank. He'd never commanded troops in any proper sense; his military philosophy had only ever consisted of one order: Charge for your daddy! Now that order had exploded in his face.
With their commander stunned, the bandits split into two reactions: some froze, wanting to retreat, while the truly brainless ones kept running forward—straight into chaos.
"Crossbow-carts! Fire!" Bai Yuan shouted.
Two more blacksmiths smashed their hammers down.
Thwap! Thwap!
The tightened leather released with a sharp snap, launching two giant bamboo-tipped bolts. The absurd giant shafts whistled through the air.
One bolt embedded itself directly into a bandit's chest, lifting him off his feet and sending him tumbling backward—dead before he hit the ground.
The second bolt struck another bandit square in the face. The entire front of his skull burst like a smashed melon, bits of red and white splattering everywhere. The men beside him shrieked in terror.
And that was only the first volley.
By the time those bolts landed, the blacksmiths had shifted positions and triggered the next pair of trebuchets and crossbows. Another two stones flew. Another two bolts screamed through the air…
Behind them, the Bai family's veteran village women were already hard at work reloading—hauling down the trebuchet arms with ropes, loading stones into the slings, hefting giant bolts, and pulling back the leather strings until they clicked into place.
Cheng Xu watched all this, his expression increasingly strange.
These women… were trained?
How in the world had Bai Yuan whipped this little fortress into an actual militia? What sort of favors had he handed out to make these villagers obey so willingly—more willingly than Cheng Xu's own soldiers?
Cheng Xu's troops were always complaining—lazy today, slacking tomorrow, refusing to train unless fed properly, whining about unpaid rations. If you yelled at them, they sulked. If you pushed harder, they muttered about mutiny.
But Bai Yuan's people… these folks moved like they wanted to fight.
By the time Cheng Xu finished wondering how the world worked, the first volley from all twenty machines had already been fired. Reloading was underway.
Outside the walls, Shuangchihu's charge had shattered.
Even the dumbest of his men snapped out of their stupidity once crossbow bolts started blasting heads open. They turned, saw their comrades retreating, and shrieked—
And then they ran too.
In minutes, the entire first assault collapsed.
Two of Bu Zhan Ni's messengers rushed from his main formation to Shuangchihu and Zijinlong. The three bandit leaders huddled, pointing toward the Bai fortress, clearly trying to figure out what to do next.
On the tower, Bai Yuan flicked open his fan—bearing the bold characters "Junzi"—and declared smugly, "Dao Xuan Tianzun's celestial weapons truly are divine. First wave wiped clean."
Cheng Xu stepped up beside him. "Twenty siege engines… even real soldiers would panic seeing this, so the bandits retreating is no surprise. But they won't stay stupid for long. They'll soon spread out to avoid being clustered targets."
Bai Yuan nodded. He'd expected this. Siege engines were devastating but inaccurate; once the bandits spread out, it would be much easier for them to reach the walls.
"Let them," Bai Yuan said. "Spread-out means weaker. We can still hold."
Cheng Xu didn't need the explanation—he understood the battlefield far better.
He thought for a moment, then bared his teeth in a grin. "Tell your family guards to pull back from the first line. My troops are taking the wall. I'm a ninth-rank officer of the Ming Empire—I can't let a bunch of civilians outshine me."
The words struck Bai Yuan like golden sunlight. The coward finally had his courage back.
As long as Cheng Xu didn't run? They actually had a chance.
He sent the order. Cheng Xu's official troops surged forward to the battlements. The Bai family guards withdrew to the second line. The village militia fell back to the third.
The moment the switch was done, the bandits outside moved again.
The three bandit chiefs had finished discussing.
Shuangchihu and Zijinlong returned to their groups. Their men roared in unison, then surged outward, spreading wide—each man several feet apart—like ants swarming from a drowned nest.
"Charge!" they screamed.
And one thousand bandits rushed the Bai fortress again.
Fun & History Footnotes
[1] Giant crossbow-carts — These are inspired by real Ming dynasty nuche, large mechanical crossbows mounted on carts or parapets. They were terrifying to see even when crudely made, and often used more for shock value than precision.
[2] "Village women reloading siege engines" — In many rural militias during late Ming unrest, women took active defensive roles. Chronicles from Shaanxi and Shanxi record women hauling stones, reloading devices, and even throwing lime powder onto attackers.
[3] Bandit chiefs using nicknames — Criminals, rebels, and bandits commonly used aliases or martial sobriquets to avoid implicating relatives. Ming law punished treason with extermination of nine family generations, so anonymity was survival.
[4] Trebuchets in rural forts — Though full counterweight trebuchets were rare in small villages, simplified lever-sling devices ("whip-trebuchets") were commonly improvised. Their purpose was less about accuracy and more about breaking morale—exactly as shown here.
[5] Ninth-rank officer (Jiupin Xunjianshi) — A real minor rank in the Ming hierarchy. A ninth-rank officer had limited authority and resources, often struggling with underpaid troops—making Cheng Xu's frustrations historically on-point.