"You dog slave, hurry up and tie up my legs, tie them up tightly." Zhangguli cursed while panting.
Why was I the one who was injured and died, and not this cowardly and lowly bannerman?
Zhangguli felt a huge imbalance in his heart. He was usually domineering and treated the Baoyi like a piece of grass, completely forgetting that he was relying on this Baoyi to save him.
Zhao Huai acted instinctively, but he had never learned battlefield first aid and did not have the right tools to bandage the wound.
Seeing Bao Yi frantically scrambling, completely clueless about how to handle the situation, and even hurting his own wound, Zhang Guli scolded him, "Stupid, idiot! Take off your clothes and bandage your wound quickly."
Zhao Huaiyi was as obedient as a puppet. He stretched out his hands and took off his clothes without caring at all that he would be cold.
"Idiot, you dog slave." Zhangguli closed his eyes, still cursing, though his voice faded. "Go back and chop off your dog's head. Damn you, Han dog."
His consciousness was a little hazy, and Zhangguli didn't have much strength left. Even if his wounds were bandaged, he might not survive.
It seemed like a very long time had passed before Zhangguli slowly opened his eyes. What he saw was still a bloody leg wound. The damned Baoyi had not bandaged his wound.
With some difficulty, Zhangguli turned his head and saw the Baoyi. Just as he was about to scold him, he suddenly realized that the Baoyi's eyes were no longer filled with fear, but with coldness and hatred, even a bit of madness.
Puff! All the sounds Zhangguli wanted to make were blocked in his throat. It was his dagger, held by Baoyi, that stabbed deeply into his neck.
With eyes wide open and mouth wide open, the light in Zhangguli's eyes quickly disappeared, and disbelief was his last expression.
Zhao Huaiyi pushed the corpse away, mainly because the dead face and dead fish-like eyes could not face him.
This action seemed to have consumed all his strength. He covered his face and curled up into a ball again. His snot and tears kept flowing as his shoulders trembled.
The lives of the bondservants and slaves were not even worth as good as those of dogs in the eyes of the Qing army.
They were the ones who risked their lives to push the shield carts. If they flinched, they would be hacked to death; if they were injured and fell to the ground, they would be killed immediately. The Jiannu didn't want their screams and wails to affect morale.
Erniu from the same village was dead, his head chopped off by a knife; Suozi also fell to the cold snow, an arrow lodged in his neck...
Although he was scared to death by the barrage of gunfire outside the city, Zhao Huaiyi had already seen many people die, too much blood and horrific deaths.
If Zhangguli hadn't yelled at him to be killed, he would have remained a puppet, unable to muster the heart to resist. But after killing Zhangguli, the hatred and anger that had risen in him were completely replaced by fear.
Boom! The arquebus jerked back, pushing Ma Wu's shoulder away.
Despite military regulations prohibiting observation of combat results, Ma Wu still saw a cloud of blood mist erupting from the target sixty or seventy meters away.
Either dead or injured, or 90% of their lives are gone! Ma Wu pursed his lips, put away his gun, and retreated.
Although Ma Wu's archery skills were among the best in the Ming army, he also enjoyed the power of the heavy musket. Even as an officer in charge of hundreds of men, he still wanted to fire a few shots and kill a few Jian slaves to satisfy his desire.
Heavy armor meant heavy muskets were more effective against enemies, as bows and arrows weren't enough to penetrate armor. Furthermore, a single shot that sent blood and flesh flying was both more shocking and more satisfying.
He retreated to the back row. Although he was wearing an iron mask, Ma Wu's joyful smile could be seen in his exposed eyes. The owner of the heavy musket took the gun, loaded the gunpowder with skillful movements, and pushed the lead bullet wrapped in grease and silk into the chamber.
Wrapping projectiles with greased linen or silk was not only used in muskets, but also in cannonballs. The first purpose was to increase airtightness, and the second was to tilt the muzzle without the projectile falling out.
"Fire another shot." Ma Wu took the gun without hesitation and walked into the queue moving forward.
The owner of the gun stared wide-eyed. He was a tall and strong man, but he was bullied by his superior and rolled his eyes. There must be an expression of grievance under his stern face.
The Jiannu and Baoyi who attacked the city had suffered heavy casualties, but the hanging signs on the city walls and the iron armor of the Ming army officers and soldiers played a great role in resisting arrows, and the casualties were very small.
Despite suffering huge casualties, the Jiannu army stubbornly erected several grappling ladders on the city wall, and the heavily armored soldiers began to climb up.
With a bang, the Jiannu on the hook ladder fell down on the ladder, with black blood and internal organs spurting out of his mouth.
The lead bullet shot from the side and rear hit his back heavily. Although it did not penetrate the heavy armor, the huge impact force was completely absorbed by his body.
Not only did Jiannu suffer internal damage, his spine was also broken. He barely managed to stay on the ladder for a moment before twisting his body and falling heavily.
A row of lead bullets whizzed over, and several Jiannu soldiers who were gathered under the hook ladder were knocked down.
More bombs were thrown from the city, and several consecutive explosions stirred up thick smoke. This group of stubborn Jiannu soldiers suffered an almost devastating blow.
More and more sky-high bombs and explosive incendiary bombs fell from the top of the city. The flames of the explosions and the splashing and burning flames flashed below the city. The enemies screamed and wailed, fluttering and jumping in the fireworks, like a group of demons dancing in hell.
After finally reaching the city, Manggurtai was unwilling to retreat without success. Even in the face of such a tragic scene and heavy casualties,
He howled and roared, galloping on horseback with a dozen personal soldiers, and commanded thousands of Jurchens, Mongolian vassal soldiers, and Han soldiers to continue rushing to the city to attack.
Watching the soldiers carrying grappling hooks and ladders and pushing siege vehicles across the moat and approaching the city, Manggurtai calmed down for a moment, puffed out thick white mist from his mouth, and stared with his bull eyes at the top of the city that was constantly spewing out fireworks.
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