Flat Rabbit's little experiment had inadvertently opened a whole new door in the minds of the militia.
Zheng Gouzi and the others did not need to be told twice. They grabbed the pre-measured gunpowder packs meant for the cannons, shoved fuses into the casings, and lit them up. Waiting until the fuses were halfway burnt, they hurled them like oversized, lethal firecrackers toward the riverbank.
A series of thunderous explosions ripped through the air, sending the rebel forces into a screaming panic that reached all the way back to their ancestors.
The actual physical damage was modest, but the psychological trauma was immense. The rebel boats hesitated to touch the shore, and the border veterans who had fought so hard to secure the beach suddenly found themselves cut off and lonely.
Harassed by explosions and a relentless rain of arrows, they finally broke. The veterans retreated until they were waist deep in the water. Some even clung to the hulls of their boats, submerging their entire bodies with only their heads peeking out behind their shields like suspicious turtles.
The rebel offensive ground to a temporary, shuddering halt.
---
Watching this from the ramparts, Bai Yuan could not help but sigh.
A strictly disciplined soldier would never have thought to take cannon propellant and play a game of lethal catch with it. It took someone like Flat Rabbit, a man whose mind lived in a permanent state of mischief, to come up with such a flexible, if slightly unhinged, strategy.
"That guy always finds a way to be useful in the most ridiculous ways," Bai Yuan thought.
His musings were interrupted when a family servant handed him a freshly loaded rifled musket.
"Master, your piece is ready for another round."
Bai Yuan was likely the only musketman in the world who had evolved past the chore of reloading. While other soldiers had to fumble with powder and ramrods in the heat of battle, he simply fired and swapped the weapon out like a nobleman being handed a fresh cup of tea.
He smirked, took the musket, and aimed it at the head of a rebel captain bobbing in the river.
BANG!
The shot rang out.
Bai Yuan smoothly handed the smoking gun back to his servant without even looking.
"Reload."
The servant glanced at the river, then at his master.
"Master, you missed. Should I count Marksmanship as a skill we still need to work on, or are we pretending that didn't happen?"
Bai Yuan rolled his eyes.
"I was trying to play it cool with a stylish turn-away. Did you really have to ruin the moment by pointing that out?"
"My apologies, Master. I forgot we were prioritizing style over results."
---
Before the banter could continue, Feng Jun's voice erupted from the high watchtower like a siren.
"It is a disaster! Look north! Look to the north!"
Bai Yuan spun around.
To his horror, a group of rebels was scaling the riverbank in a sector that had no palisade or militia guards. That stretch of the bank was a jagged cliff face overlooking treacherous, churning water. It was supposed to be impossible to land there, so the militia had left it empty and undefended.
But Bai Yuzhu was no fool.
While the main force hammered at the wharf, he had sent a specialized team of climbers to scale the cliffs at a distance.
These bandits were light on their feet. They carried no heavy armor or unwieldy weapons, just simple blades and small leather shields or even pot lids. Against a regular Ming army, such a lightly armed squad would be useless.
But against the Heyang County Militia, they were a psychological nightmare.
The sight of the enemy appearing behind their defenses shattered the militia's morale.
These men were trained significantly less than the Gao Village regulars. They could fight well enough behind a sturdy wooden wall, but the moment they realized they were being flanked, they panicked like a herd of startled deer.
The formation dissolved into chaos. Soldiers spun around, unsure whether to face the river or the bandits crawling up the cliffs behind them.
The arrows falling on the beach thinned out instantly.
Seeing the pressure lift, the rebel boats surged forward again. Rebels holding shields and pot lids began leaping onto the sand in droves.
"Mister Bai! Do something before we are surrounded!" Feng Jun screamed from his perch.
---
Bai Yuan gave a cool smirk and snapped his folding fan open with a sharp click.
"Officer Feng, please. Compose yourself. A gentleman never loses his cool."
As the words left his lips, the rhythmic thunder of hooves began to shake the ground.
The cavalry camp, which had been watching the show from a mile back, was finally on the move.
Zhao Ying led the charge.
She looked nothing like the woman who had first wandered into Gao Village. Clad in magnificent mountain pattern armor, she looked every bit the legendary general. An Kaiyuan bow was slung across her back, a long spear was gripped in her right hand, and her left hand held the reins with expert grace.
She was a vision of martial elegance.
It was a shame the only word to describe her was "dashing" rather than "beautiful." It was a minor tragedy, really.
"Drive them back into the river!" Zhao Ying bellowed, charging straight at the light infantry bandits.
---
The bandits heard the hooves and turned, only to feel their souls leave their bodies.
Three hundred cavalrymen were bearing down on them like a tidal wave of steel and muscle.
Their minds raced with confusion.
What kind of place is this? How does a tiny county like Heyang have cannons, bombs, and a full cavalry troop?
Cavalry moves like the wind.
Before the bandits could even process their fear, Zhao Ying was upon them. She thrust her spear forward, skewering the lead bandit through the chest with a sickening crunch.
Behind her, her veteran subordinates followed suit.
One of them lunged with his spear, only to let out a loud curse.
"Crap! My spear is stuck!"
Because the horse was moving at full gallop, the spear had driven so deep into the bandit's body that the rider could not pull it out in time. The momentum of the horse carried him forward, and the weapon was wrenched from his hand.
Zhao Ying glanced back, her eyes blazing with fury.
"What in the world are you doing?!"
The subordinate looked embarrassed.
"I am used to the saber. This is my first time using a spear in a real charge. I forgot how much these things like to stay inside the target."
He quickly drew his gleaming waist saber, looking much more at home with the blade.
With sabers drawn, they looked more like the bandits they used to be, losing the sheer psychological terror of a wall of lances.
Zhao Ying fumed.
"When we get back, you are practicing that charge ten thousand more times!"
---
Despite the small hiccup, the advantage of cavalry over unarmored infantry was absolute.
The cavalry camp swept through the rebels like a scythe through wheat. Long spears and sabers made short work of the infiltrators, leaving them screaming for mercy.
There were not many of them to begin with.
In fact, there were fewer bandits than there were horses.
They never stood a chance.
The survivors let out terrified shrieks and threw themselves back off the cliff. They hit the Yellow River with massive splashes, and the boats in the water scrambled to fish them out.
---
Zhao Ying pulled her reins at the edge of the cliff.
Her veterans lined up beside her, horses prancing and spears leveled, as they looked down at the rebels and let out a collective, mocking laugh.
After a few jeers, Zhao Ying realized something was off.
The line looked a bit thin.
She looked back.
About thirty feet behind them, a large group of one hundred and eighty riders stood frozen. These were not her old veteran bandits, but the new recruits from Gao Village. They were hovering in the back, looking hesitant and terrified to get any closer to the edge.
"What are you doing back there?" Zhao Ying demanded. "We won! Get over here and help us laugh at these losers!"
The recruits looked at each other, faces flushed with shame.
"Our riding skills are not quite there yet. We are a bit afraid that if we get too close to the cliff, the horses might decide to take a dive with us."
Zhao Ying's face turned red with anger.
"Useless! When we get back, you are going to eat, sleep, and live on those horses until you can ride them in your sleep!"
[Historical Note: Ming Cavalry Training]
Ming light cavalry drilled in both lance and saber, but most soldiers favored the blade—it required less reach control and less trust in the horse. Many commanders complained that "men treat their spears as banners, not weapons." Zao Ying's frustration would've been entirely authentic.