The entire Bai Fortress had mobilized. Even the hundred-plus official soldiers under Cheng Xu joined the action, tearing down the fake mountain in the rear garden, dismantling the pavilion and corridor in front of the study hall.
By the time they were done, Bai Fortress suddenly had two freshly cleared courtyards—perfect spots to set up those so-called "Immortal Rockets."
Under Young Master Bai's command, crowds of people were carrying giant blocks of wood, happily stacking them like oversized building toys.
A hundred people playing with megasized building blocks at once—what a sight. If Li Daoxuan had seen it, he'd laugh for days.
Finally, all three Immortal Rockets were assembled.
Young Master Bai, mission accomplished, was immediately shooed back to Gaojia Village by Bai Yuan. As she put it—"Half-grown kid, battlefield not allowed."
Not long after, Gao Chuwo and Zheng Dan Niu delivered hundreds of plastic artillery shells. Each shell was as long as two grown men standing on each other's shoulders—but instead of stone, they were made of hard plastic. Big, yes, but surprisingly lightweight. A few villagers could effortlessly carry one and load it into the rocket's barrel.
Bai Yuan personally commanded the villagers and the strong womenfolk to practice ammunition-loading movements. Each Immortal Rocket could fire eight rounds in succession, and every round needed its own dedicated team—eight teams per rocket, twenty-four teams in total for all three.
More than a hundred villagers were needed just to load these things.
They had to train fast, seamlessly, repeatedly—because when the bandits came, speed meant survival.
So the hundred villagers kept circling the rocket platforms, practicing the loading routine again and again like a giant human merry-go-round powered by anxiety.
Cheng Xu watched all this, and once again that strange feeling rose in his heart:
This is a drought year, for heaven's sake. These villagers keep carrying big heavy shells and running in circles—they must be starving. Why are they working so obediently?
As he pondered this, the Bai family steward walked out with a group of servants carrying several huge bamboo baskets filled with freshly steamed white buns.
Good buns too—pure white flour, fluffy and plump, no stinginess in sight. Every bun looked like it could knock a grown man unconscious in a pinch.
The steward shouted:
"By order of Master Bai—eat the buns, then continue training!"
With a roar, the villagers surged forward. Each grabbed two buns, took a ferocious bite—crack!—leaving huge crescent-shaped dents. Their cheeks puffed out like chipmunks as they spoke through mouthfuls:
"Mm… smells good… so tasty…"
"Mm… doing work for Master Bai is nice… food never runs out…"
Cheng Xu stared, stunned.
Good grief… Bai Yuan actually dares to let villagers eat their fill? My soldiers wouldn't dare eat like that even on New Year's Eve.
He turned to glance at his troops—imperial regulars, supposed elite heavenly soldiers—now staring at the villagers' buns like hungry wolves drooling over prey.
Cheng Xu sighed deeply.
He understood. Military households lived rough. Ever since the Wanli era, the court had barely paid salaries. Always delaying, always in arrears. Many military families fled; many joined the bandits. Some of those deserters became the fiercest fighters in the rebel ranks.
Cheng Xu, trying to keep his own soldiers loyal, had occasionally paid out of his own pocket. Every time felt like ripping flesh off his ribs.
Crunch!
A big bamboo basket was suddenly dropped in front of him—filled with white buns.
The Bai family steward smiled.
"General Cheng, these are for your soldiers. Please distribute."
Cheng Xu's spirit instantly lifted.
"That's what I came for—to eat off rich households! Soldiers! Eat! Don't be polite. His family's loaded. Their ancestors held office—one prefect, two magistrates. You won't bankrupt him!"
The soldiers cheered and rushed forward. Their dark hands clutched the snow-white buns, instantly leaving black fingerprints.
Not that they cared. They devoured them anyway, licking their fingers afterward until the black smudges lightened noticeably.
---
At dawn the next day, a sentry's shout broke the morning calm:
"Bandits incoming! They're coming down the mountain!"
Clack! Clack! Clack!
The bamboo signal tubes echoed through the fortress.
Bai Yuan and Cheng Xu rushed to the corner tower, looking toward Huanglong Mountain. A massive wave of bandits was descending in tight formation.
This time, the bandit force was far larger than before.
Cheng Xu took one look and said,
"Three thousand! At least three thousand! This time both Luochuan Bu Zhan Ni and Yichuan Zuo Gua Zi came together."
Last time he heard these two were coming, he nearly fainted. Now that he saw them in person, he wasn't afraid at all.
Because—all fear originates from insufficient firepower.
And their firepower today was plentiful.
He gestured toward the slope.
"Almost in range. Just about right—they've entered rocket distance."
Bai Yuan blinked.
"Oh? Already?"
Cheng Xu sighed.
"Sir Bai, you really should learn distance estimation from proper soldiers."
Bai Yuan flicked open his folding fan, revealing the characters "Gentleman's Virtue."
"A gentleman's six classical arts do not include this skill. I can learn it or not; matters little."
Cheng Xu: "…"
He really wanted to hit him. But now was not the time.
Cheng Xu turned to the villagers already in position and shouted:
"Prepare to launch!"
The villagers didn't even care who shouted the order—they moved instantly. Untrained rabble always obeyed the loudest voice.
Bai Yuan didn't mind Cheng Xu stealing command for the moment. Hands clasped behind his back, he stood on the wall, watching the bandits descend.
The bandits were on the move…
Bu Zhan Ni cursed nonstop:
"That damn Bai Fortress! Just a few hundred people, and they made me suffer a full defeat. And that useless patrol officer Cheng Xu suddenly grew a backbone! What, just because he has some stupid catapults and oversized crossbows—"
Zuo Gua Zi frowned.
"Where did a tiny fortress get so many siege weapons?"
Bu Zhan Ni:
"How should I know? I'd like to ask them myself."
Zuo Gua Zi turned and whispered to a burly man behind him.
"Old Lu, how do we deal with this?"
The man stepped forward—a hardened bandit wearing military cloth armor, with a dao at his waist and a Kaiyuan bow on his back. Clearly a former Ming soldier.
No one knew his real name; everyone simply called him Old Lu. He had fought northern nomads many times. In these troubled years, rebels all used fake names to avoid implicating family.
Old Lu grinned.
"They're guarding the north side, pointing all weapons that way. Once we reach the foot, split the army into two. You two chiefs take each half—circle east and west. Their siege engines rotate slowly; they can't cover both sides."
Bu Zhan Ni and Zuo Gua Zi beamed.
"Good idea! Soldiers truly understand war."
They were still praising him when their men suddenly shouted:
"Huh?! Something's flying toward us!"
And then—
---
Footnotes
① Military pay shortages during late Ming: Chronic salary arrears caused widespread desertion and rebellion. Many "bandits" were actually unpaid soldiers forced into outlaw life.
Historical Record, Tianqi Year Seven, Eighth Month:
Governor Hu Tingyan reported:
"Military pay at Lingong border has been lacking for five to six years, totaling over 200,000 taels; Jinglu border pay missing two to three years; Guzhen's capital transport arrears from Wanli 47 to Tianqi 6 exceed 159,000 taels.
At first the soldiers pawned clothing and sold arrows; now they sell their children and dismiss their wives.
At first they begged for food; now they desert.
At first they whispered complaints; now they shout openly."