It was a thrilling pursuit, with the Zhejiang army chasing the routed pirates for thirty li, utterly crushing their fleeing forces.
The chase led to the banks of a great river, where Zhu Ping’an ordered the signal to halt and set up camp on a high slope by the river.
The pursuit yielded glorious results.
Over thirty li, they slew 1,382 pirates, captured 2,157, seized 130 horses, and claimed all the pirates’ provisions and supplies. Even Mao Haifeng and Otomo Sadakawa’s command banners were taken.
“Young Master, if we’d chased another twenty or thirty li, the gains would’ve been even greater. We might’ve even captured Mao Haifeng and Otomo Sadakawa alive,” Liu Dadao said with regret.
“Never pursue a desperate foe. Mao Haifeng and Otomo Sadakawa have rallied about four thousand routed pirates, giving them some counterattack capability. Besides, they’re not renowned pirate chiefs. Capturing them wouldn’t achieve much,” Zhu Ping’an replied, shaking his head slightly.
Through his “Glorious Ancestors” ability, Zhu Ping’an had detected that Mao Haifeng and Otomo Sadakawa had gathered roughly four thousand stragglers, lurking not far ahead.
While the defeated Mao Haifeng and Otomo Sadakawa posed little threat, a greater danger loomed—likely Wang Zhi himself leading the pirate rear guard, now less than forty li away.
Pushing further would be risky.
“Still a bit of a pity,” Liu Dadao muttered, still regretful.
“Heh, no need for regrets. Today’s results are already splendid,” Zhu Ping’an said with a faint smile, continuing, “Moreover, we’ve used up a lot of powder—over forty percent in this battle. The firearms, too—the Tiger Crouching Cannons fired repeatedly, their barrels red-hot and needing to cool. The muskets are the same; firing again risks misfires.”
During the pursuit, some firearms had already misfired—two muskets exploded, lightly injuring their users.
Though no cannons misfired, one barrel deformed, narrowly avoided disaster thanks to timely detection. Another cannon cracked when cooled with water, rendering it useless.
There was no helping it—the firearms of this era couldn’t compare to modern or even early modern ones.
It was a limitation of the time, with deficiencies in firearm design, iron smelting, and steel forging.
These would need gradual improvement.
“Order the men to cook and eat something hot. Let them rest in shifts and clean the battlefield. Keep searching the rear for straggling pirates,” Zhu Ping’an commanded.
The Zhejiang army had pursued fiercely, likely missing some hidden or scattered pirates. A thorough search would surely yield more captures.
“Yes, sir,” Liu Dadao and the others acknowledged, departing to carry out the orders.
Zhu Ping’an, with his personal guards, inspected the camp, visiting wounded soldiers. He personally bandaged a few and served each a bowl of fish soup, earning a surge of loyalty from the troops.
In this battle, thirteen Zhejiang soldiers had died, and over eighty were wounded.
Of the wounded, only ten were seriously injured; the rest had light wounds and would recover in ten days to half a month.
Zhu Ping’an paid special attention to the ten gravely wounded, comforting each and ensuring they rested.
After consulting the army physicians, who advised that the ten needed to recuperate on-site, Zhu Ping’an requisitioned a nearby village. He personally instructed the village head, giving him a hundred taels of silver and a cart of grain to house the wounded, assigning a physician to care for them.
To ensure their safety, he left a squad of five soldiers as guards until their conditions stabilized, after which they’d be transferred to Shaoxing.
Seeing Zhu Ping’an’s care for the wounded, both the lightly injured and all other soldiers were deeply moved.
The wounded today were others, but tomorrow it could be them—battle was unpredictable, and no one was guaranteed divine protection forever.
Their commander’s care for the troops, especially the wounded, and his thorough arrangements for the gravely injured, reassured everyone.
They feared neither injury nor future worries—their commander would ensure their care and safety.
In the already high-spirited Zhejiang camp, fresh off a great victory, morale soared even higher.
Zhu Ping’an’s prestige among the troops was at its zenith. Veterans and recruits alike revered him, ready to die for him.
In stark contrast, across the river in a nearby forest, the pirate stragglers’ camp was steeped in gloom and defeat.
“Damn it! Why did Zhu Ping’an stop chasing? I rallied four thousand men, ready to ambush the overconfident Zhejiang army for a crushing blow. I never expected Zhu Ping’an to be so cautious, stopping after just thirty li!” Mao Haifeng fumed, punching a tree in frustration.
He had painstakingly gathered four thousand stragglers and set an ambush to turn the tables on the triumphant Zhejiang army.
But Zhu Ping’an’s refusal to pursue further rendered his plans useless.
He’d hoped to salvage some pride with a small victory after the crushing defeat, but Zhu Ping’an didn’t even give him that chance. Mao Haifeng felt a surge of rage choking him.
“Zhu Ping’an is no ordinary foe. This battle opened my eyes—firearms can be used like this,” Otomo Sadakawa said, kneeling nearby, gazing at the Zhejiang camp’s towering banner with a mix of awe and reflection.
When he first saw the Zhejiang army’s narrow, almost childish linear firing formation, Otomo Sadakawa had mocked Zhu Ping’an’s lack of martial strategy, thinking it amateurish.
But that seemingly laughable formation had slapped him hard across the face.
The rain of musket balls, the dense firepower, the terrifying lethality—his samurai hadn’t even had a chance to use their deadly skills, hadn’t touched the Zhejiang army’s trousers, before falling like harvested wheat.
And those cannons, carried by just two men, were like the wrath of gods—utterly terrifying.
The combination of muskets and cannons made the Zhejiang army’s combat power horrifying.
Unless they could close in for melee without giving the Zhejiang army a chance to use their firearms, Otomo Sadakawa couldn’t imagine defeating them.
“Why do their firearms reload so quickly?” Mao Haifeng asked Otomo Sadakawa, puzzled.
“I’m ashamed—I don’t know,” Otomo Sadakawa replied, equally baffled and shaking his head in embarrassment. “After this battle, I no longer dare claim expertise in firearms. I’ve never seen anyone wield them like the Zhejiang army.”
