The sound of “plop, plop” filled the air as pirates leapt into the water without pause. Not a single one wanted to stay aboard and become barbecue. One after another, they jumped into the churning river, desperately swimming toward the shore, armed and frantic.
Above them loomed burning ships and whistling rockets; beneath them surged icy, bone-chilling water. Each was deadly in its own right. Countless pirates perished en route, sinking to the riverbed—so many that the channel seemed on the verge of clogging with their corpses.
“Damn it! Once we reach the shore, we’ll hack those卑鄙无耻 (despicable and shameless) Ming dogs in half!”
“No, half is too good for them! We’ll carve them up a thousand times—tear them to shreds!”
“A thousand cuts! A million pieces!”
The pirates cursed viciously as they swam, watching their comrades die beside them. Their hatred for the Zhejiang troops on the shore swelled like the rising tide—greater than the vengeance for a murdered father or a stolen wife.
Leading the charge were four small boats carrying seventy to eighty pirates. These were the men Xu Hai had sent to destroy the iron chains spanning the river before the rockets struck. They hadn’t even set out when the barrage began.
Originally, fourteen boats had been dispatched—half to the left bank, half to the right—to simultaneously sabotage the chains on both sides.
Though these boats weren’t the Zhejiang army’s primary targets, nearly half were still blasted or burned to cinders in the rocket and cannon fire. Only four boats reached the left bank, where the Zhejiang main force waited, and five made it to the right.
“Kill! Wipe out these卑鄙无耻 (despicable and shameless) bastards!”
The moment their boats hit the shore, the pirates leapt out, brandishing their katanas with savage ferocity, charging up the high slope toward the Zhejiang troops.
Having suffered heavy losses to the Zhejiang army in Suzhou, their hatred had long festered. After enduring one “gift-giving” disaster after another, they gnashed their teeth in rage, yearning to feast on Zhejiang flesh and blood.
“Well done! Kill, kill! Charge up there—slaughter them all, wipe out these卑鄙无耻 (despicable and shameless) Ming dogs!”
Seeing the pirates land, those still struggling in the river cheered fervently, shouting encouragement. They couldn’t wait to see their comrades storm the slope and carve the Zhejiang troops into pieces!
“Kill!”
United in purpose, the eighty-plus pirates seemed possessed by the spirits of ten thousand. Waving their blades, they charged the slope.
They roared as they slogged through the muddy, clinging riverbank, then onto the grassy shore. The high slope was within reach.
The eyes of countless pirates watched, urging them on.
In that moment, they weren’t just eighty pirates—they embodied the collective spirit and will of thousands!
Possessed by ten thousand, invincible in battle!
Fearlessly, they stormed the slope, heedless of life or death, vowing to take at least three Zhejiang soldiers down with them even if they fell!
“That’s it! Charge! Don’t be afraid—we’ll follow right behind!”
The pirates in the river bellowed, swimming with all their might—faster, faster, faster still.
Then, the next second—
“What?!”
“What the hell just happened?!”
A collective gasp erupted from the pirates in the river, their eyes nearly popping out. The vanguard they’d cheered for vanished in an instant.
Unbeknownst to them, a massive pit trap lay hidden beneath the slope, camouflaged with grass. The charging pirates had stepped right onto it, plummeting into the spiked pit below with screams that pierced the heavens.
The frontrunners fell, and those behind couldn’t stop in time—like dumplings into a pot, they tumbled in after them.
Only a handful at the rear managed to halt just shy of the edge, faces pale and drenched in cold sweat as they stared into the pit. Their comrades below, skewered into bloody gourds, writhed in their final throes.
“Damn it! Treacherous and cunning—卑鄙无耻 (despicable and shameless)!”
“I’ve never seen such vile Ming dogs!”
“Go to hell! All you’ve got are卑鄙无耻 (despicable and shameless) tricks! Fight us one-on-one if you dare—I’ll give you a hand’s head start!”
The swimming pirates, witnessing this, were struck with terror and fury, their hatred for the Zhejiang army doubling.
On the opposite bank, the pirates charging there met the same fate—falling into traps at nearly the same moment, nearly wiped out. Only seven or eight survived, trembling and pale, standing before the pit as their skewered teammates bled out below.
Their survival, however, was short-lived.
As they rejoiced in escaping the fate of their comrades, the Zhejiang troops on both banks turned their focus on them.
Under a hail of arrows and musket fire, the few who’d dodged the traps fell dead—no exceptions.
“Revenge! Make the Ming army pay in blood! Kill! Slaughter them to avenge our brothers!”
The deaths bought time for the others. The river wasn’t wide, and in that brief window, more pirates reached the shallows, planting their feet on the riverbed and charging ashore with katanas raised.
“Bypass the traps! The Zhejiang army’s crafty—watch for more!” Xu Hai shouted from a small boat in the river.
He didn’t need to warn them—the pirates hitting the shore instinctively avoided the exposed pits, probing ahead with stones and broken wood. Sure enough, they soon uncovered another trap nearby.
Camouflaged with dry grass, it crumbled under a thrown rock, revealing the pit beneath.
“Haha! We won’t fall into the same hole twice! Trying to trap us? Not a chance!”
The pirates laughed smugly, relieved yet triumphant as they exposed the trap.
Emboldened by success, they repeated the process, hurling stones and wood, unmasking three more traps in succession.
Though dozens fell to Zhejiang arrows and muskets during this—nearly a hundred lost—the path to the slope was cleared. The pirates erupted in savage laughter.
“Hahaha! Ming dogs, you worked so hard digging these pits, only for Grandpa to smash them open with a few rocks! Mad? Furious? Kneel and die—Grandpa might even make it quick!”
“The path’s clear! Kill! Charge up!”
After being pummeled and outmaneuvered for so long, the pirates were brimming with pent-up rage. With the traps neutralized, they didn’t need orders—grinning ferociously, they brandished their katanas and stormed the slope.
Pirates below the slope and those emerging from the river swarmed upward in a frenzied mass.
The earlier fires had claimed many, rockets, cannonballs, and musket shots even more, and the river had drowned countless others. Yet the pirates’ numbers were vast—though many died, far more lived.
In an instant, thousands upon thousands surged toward the slope—dense, menacing, and terrifying in their momentum.
A single spit from each could drown the Zhejiang troops above in a flood…
