Tai Ping 07

Yet he was still scheming when trouble arose ahead in Youzhou. The plea for help from the Governor of Youzhou arrived on his desk in the morning, and the very next day, while he was still hesitating whether to send troops, news of the governor's surrender followed closely behind.

The reason for attacking Youzhou was the same as before—a merchant convoy of the Taiping Dao had gone missing there.

However, after the battle, it turned out they had simply gotten lost.

Prince Xiang flew into a rage, hurling the report to the ground. "Does Fang Zhiyi want to incite the wrath of the entire realm? No matter how powerful the Taiping Dao is, can they really stand against so many warlords at once?"

The spy standing nearby kept his head bowed, silently answering in his heart: My lord, the Taiping Dao might truly be capable of facing all the warlords. But he dared not say it aloud. In any case, it didn’t matter—he had already decided to take his parents to Youzhou after today and register under the Taiping Dao’s household.

Prince Xiang rallied every warlord he could, their blades now pointed squarely at the Taiping Dao. They even gave their alliance a grand name: The Coalition to Suppress the Traitorous Taiping Dao.

On the day of their assembly, they gathered what they boasted to be a million-strong army. Each had their own schemes, believing that no matter how formidable the Taiping Dao was, they were still just peasants at heart. Crushing them under the weight of a million soldiers was only a matter of time. The real challenge, however, was ensuring their allies didn’t snatch the spoils first.

But before they could finalize their plans, a soldier rushed in with urgent news.

"The Taiping Army is at the pass!"

"What?" someone exclaimed in shock. "They dare come to us? How many are there?"

"A few thousand, roughly."

Laughter erupted. "Do they truly believe themselves to be invincible golden-armored warriors? Fitting for a charlatan like Fang Zhiyi."

"They also said..." the soldier hesitated.

"Said what?" A warlord took a swig of wine, unbothered.

"That one of their merchant convoys went missing here."

Pfft! The wine sprayed from his mouth. An eerie silence fell over the assembly.

"A missing convoy..." The reason seemed to awaken a long-dormant fear in those present.

Prince Xiang stood abruptly. "Lawless villains! The Taiping Dao are nothing but bandits!" He appeared to have forgotten his own plan to disguise raiders as merchants to ambush them.

Before morale could be bolstered, a series of deafening booms shook the ground, followed by screams and the sound of collapsing stone.

"What’s happening?!" Panic spread.

Faint cries echoed from outside: "The Taiping Army is attacking! They’re using sorcery again!"

The warlords paled. "Sorcery? The rumors were true?" Due to poor communication and vast distances, many had only heard tales but never witnessed the Taiping Army’s firearms firsthand.

Prince Xiang raised a hand. "It’s not sorcery. They merely wield weapons called cannons."

The others exchanged glances. Cannons? Merely? Wasn’t that just as terrifying as sorcery?

At the pass, Wang Erxi admired the crumbled walls with satisfaction. The gunpowder had been his invention—no, the Great Celestial Master’s, but he had crafted it himself! No matter what the future held, he was certain his name would be recorded in history.

Suddenly, the enemy gates swung open, and a disheveled force charged out, fanning into formation.

"Scoundrel! Face me in single combat!" The vanguard general of Bingzhou bellowed.

Wang Erxi gave him an odd look, then glanced behind him. The general, unsettled, turned—only to see that aside from the gate itself, the walls on either side had been obliterated.

"Is this man an idiot? With only one gate left, he insists on marching through it?" Wang Erxi muttered to his lieutenant.

The lieutenant nodded emphatically.

"How dare you mock me!" The general’s face flushed with rage. Digging his heels into his horse, he charged—just as Wang Erxi hefted an iron tube. With a jerk of his chin, his lieutenant lit the fuse.

Boom! A dull thud. The general shuddered, then slowly toppled from his saddle.

From their distant vantage, the warlords’ expressions darkened.

Only Prince Xiang remained defiant. "Now! If all our forces attack at once, how can we fail to crush a mere few thousand?"

Some were swayed. A hot-tempered warlord mounted his steed, ready to lead his troops forward.

But then—a new cloud of dust rose in the distance. A hundred horses galloped in unison, pulling strange contraptions before halting beside Wang Erxi’s lines. More cannons!

"The Eagle Cannons," the deliveryman announced. "Not as powerful as your siege artillery, but devastating against cavalry."

As Wang Erxi set up the new weapons, standing with haughty confidence, the warlords exchanged bewildered glances. They didn’t understand, but they knew—their enemy had just grown stronger.

They craned their necks for a better look.

"What’s the point of fighting now?" one warlord groaned.

Even Prince Xiang felt a chill. If the earlier cannons could shatter walls, what could these new ones do? No, I must return and consult Chu Zhaoning. If she knows of these weapons, she must know how to replicate them!

An uneasy stalemate settled. The Taiping Army made no move to attack—so long as the warlords didn’t provoke them. It was as if Wang Erxi had come solely to demolish walls.

By dusk, a merchant convoy meandered down a side road, heading straight for Wang Erxi’s position. After a brief exchange, Wang Erxi waved, and his soldiers packed up, escorting the wagons away.

"They’re just... leaving?" someone gaped.

"They really were here for a missing convoy?"

Another warlord stared at the ruined walls. "What kind of people are the Taiping Dao?"

In that single encounter, the Taiping Dao shattered the coalition’s resolve. In the days that followed, the warlords abandoned plans of conquest and division of spoils. Instead, they secretly sent envoys to the Taiping Dao, offering goodwill.

Yet the tide of unification could not be stemmed. While the rulers stood high upon their walls, the common folk listened, enraptured, to the sermons of wandering Taiping preachers.

Bingzhou and Haozhou fell—not because of missing convoys, but to rebellion. The garrisons, swayed by the teachings, overthrew their warlords in unison with the people.

In Xuzhou, Prince Xiang watched his wife emerge from her workshop, his face eager. "Zhaoning, any progress?"

Chu Zhaoning’s expression was grim. In her past life, she had been an ordinary college student who liked reading novels—how could she recall the exact formula for gunpowder? She vaguely remembered her ex-boyfriend mentioning "one part saltpeter, two parts sulfur," but the third ingredient eluded her.