When the Dao Xuan Tianzun suddenly uttered the word "foxholes," a ripple of confusion swept through the meeting hall.
No one understood what he meant.
Li Daoxuan, however, understood their bewilderment perfectly.
In the Ming Dynasty, this concept simply did not exist.
Historically, foxholes emerged alongside rifled firearms and skirmisher tactics. Unlike traditional troops who relied on dense formations and level terrain, skirmishers fought in small, flexible units. They dug shallow pits in the earth, using them as cover against enemy fire while launching precise attacks of their own.
These small, scattered pits—
were foxholes.
Gao Family Village already possessed skirmishers, but their real combat experience was still limited. Tactical doctrines evolved slowly, paid for in blood. If left to learn on their own, they might need dozens of battles to grasp such concepts.
Li Daoxuan had no intention of letting his people purchase insight with lives.
"Outside the water stronghold," the Dao Xuan Tianzun instructed calmly,
"on both flanks of the open ground, determine the likely boundaries of the battlefield."
"Then," he continued,
"extend one to two hundred paces beyond those edges and dig numerous small pits—each large enough to conceal five or six soldiers."
"Before the battle begins, our men will hide inside them."
The hall fell silent.
Then Lao Nanfeng's eyes suddenly widened.
"I see it now!" he exclaimed.
"Dig foxholes on the flanks, conceal riflemen, and ambush the enemy commander—brilliant!"
Zao Ying frowned slightly.
"But won't the enemy scouts discover them? They'll surely sweep the battlefield in advance."
Xing Honglang waved her hand dismissively.
"That's easily solved. Cover the pits with wooden planks, then lay grass and soil on top. From two hundred paces away, enemy scouts won't search that carefully. They'll ride straight past, never noticing the disguised ground."
Gao Chuwu scratched his head.
"But after firing," he asked bluntly,
"won't the men hiding in those pits be surrounded and killed?"
The room fell quiet again.
He was right.
Even if those few riflemen successfully killed Wang Guozhong, they would immediately be overwhelmed by his furious subordinates.
This troubled everyone.
The Dao Xuan Tianzun had always valued life.
Sending soldiers on a suicidal assassination mission didn't fit his past actions.
Then the Dao Xuan Tianzun spoke again.
"I never said to dig only one pit."
Everyone froze.
"Dig many," he continued evenly.
"Dig them across a wide area. Scatter them."
Lao Nanfeng inhaled sharply.
"So that's it!" he said excitedly.
"Not a single ambush—but an entire hidden force!"
The others began to understand as well.
Only Gao Chuwu and Zheng Daniu still looked lost.
Zheng Daniu scratched his head.
"So… does this actually make fighting easier?"
Lao Nanfeng laughed.
"I can't say I fully grasp the Heavenly—"
He paused, correcting himself.
"—the Dao Xuan Tianzun's intent, but allow me to guess."
"In traditional warfare," he explained,
"combat power comes from tight formations—spears, shields, archers. Without formation, an army is useless."
"But our rifled musketeers don't need formations."
"Our smoothbore musketeers will hold the front behind the stockade," Lao Nanfeng continued.
"The rifled musketeers will lie hidden in foxholes on both flanks—scattered, unformed, invisible."
"When the cannons fire and the front lines engage," he said, voice rising,
"the rifled musketeers will rise from concealment."
"First—they kill Wang Guozhong from hundreds of paces away."
"Then—they pour fire into the battlefield."
"At that point," Lao Nanfeng concluded,
"the enemy will collapse completely."
Even Zheng Daniu's eyes lit up.
"Popping out from the sides and shooting them to pieces?" he laughed.
"They'll be totally confused!"
The experienced commanders were exhilarated.
So this was how skirmishers were meant to be used.
More importantly—the enemy could never copy this tactic.
Their armies depended on rigid formations. Without them, they were nothing. They couldn't scatter into foxholes and fight a dispersed battle even if they wanted to.
Lao Nanfeng quickly took out paper and ink, sketching the water stronghold and calculating the space occupied by a three-thousand-man formation.
He drew two long lines on both flanks, one to two hundred paces away.
"Along these lines," he said decisively,
"we dig foxholes."
"Once covered with planks and grass, Wang Guozhong will never suspect a thing."
After all—
people only guard against what they understand.
Even if Wang Guozhong were ten times more cunning, he would never imagine an enemy abandoning formations to hide soldiers underground.
"We dig tonight," Xing Honglang said firmly, standing up.
"Daytime work risks detection. We move under darkness."
"He'll walk straight into our trap."
At the mention of digging, Gao Chuwu and Zheng Daniu immediately perked up.
"Leave that to us!" Gao Chuwu boomed.
"We may not be clever, but when it comes to hard labor—no one beats us!"
"Hold it!"
Flat Rabbit suddenly jumped up.
"Digging foxholes?" he declared proudly.
"This is exactly where this Rabbit Master shines!"
The others stared at him.
"This too?"
Flat Rabbit puffed out his chest.
"Do you think the word 'Rabbit' is just for show?"
Eyes rolled.
"Stop bragging about digging holes!"
And so, beneath a moonless sky—
Flat Rabbit personally led a large detachment of soldiers, each carrying a small entrenching shovel. They slipped silently out of the water stronghold, moving to the flanks of the battlefield, one to two hundred paces beyond Lao Nanfeng's marked lines.
They dug feverishly.
Pit after pit.
Each was carefully covered with wooden planks, then layered with grass and soil, blending seamlessly into the terrain.
By dawn, all foxholes were concealed, and the men withdrew to rest.
The next night, fresh teams continued the work.
Meanwhile, at Qichuan Ferry—
Transport ships arrived, delivering newly forged cannons.
These were not dismantled ship-mounted guns, but fresh products from Qichuan's cannon foundry.
Forged by Gao Family Village's own blacksmiths using Song Yingxing's designs, they were rough, dark, and far less elegant than the stainless-steel cannons once bestowed by Li Daoxuan.
But their power—
was very real.