"The Japanese slaves are rushing up again!"

"Don't be noisy! What the fuck are you panicking! Kong Youde shouted and stopped his subordinates from shouting. At this time, his face was blackened by the smoke of gunpowder, and only two of his eyes were white when he didn't speak.

Beside him, the soldiers of the Dongjiang Army, who were still resting in the trenches, immediately stood up, like a spring under their buttocks. The dusty soldiers quickly put their rifles on the sandbags on the edge of the trenches and aimed their guns at the Japanese soldiers a few hundred meters away.

"Don't rush to shoot! Listen to the command! Kong Youde habitually shouted loudly. From the long shouting, his throat already felt a burning pain.

"Battalion commander, drink water." The soldier on the side took the kettle and handed it to him.

Kong Youde is not humble, and he is bored when he grabs the kettle. The water that poured from his mouth washed down his face, but it shifted his appearance from black to yellow.

"Fuck, let the three or four companies prepare!" After drinking the water, Kong Youde shouted to the herald without bothering to twist the lid, "The first and second companies are too tired, they will replace them in the next batch!" ”

"And! Fuck let the Japanese prepare for a counterattack! Hit the Karatsu clan back! ”

"Damn, why did you get on so many people this time!"

————————————————

"Artillery ready! Replace it with a shrapnel! ”

After seeing the soldiers of the Karatsu Domain regrouping in the binoculars, on the battery on the flank of the No. 1 defensive line, the artillery lieutenant Bai Lao Da waved the flag vigorously to convey the order, and at the same time spoke loudly to the two artillery crews he led.

The artillerymen, who were sitting on the ground lying on the ground, quickly got into working condition, stuffing silk medicine packs and shells into the muzzles. Another person took a ruler to estimate the distance, then crouched down and wrote and drew on a piece of paper.

"320 meters, 3 degrees down!"

After getting the parameters, the artillerymen immediately turned the roulette wheel under the gun and carefully adjusted the direction of the muzzle.

Seeing that his subordinates were loaded with ammunition, Boss Bai continued to raise his binoculars to observe the target - if he did not receive Kong Youde's order, he would order the artillery crew to fire at the right time.

And more than two hundred meters away, Murakami Hiroki was driving dozens of Ashigaru to the defense line of the Saga Domain at a uniform speed.

From the name of this gentleman, we can know that he was a noble samurai. Well, or rather, it's a ronin.

What is a ronin, probably a samurai who has lost his master and has no fiefdom. They had nothing but a knife (some didn't even have a knife) and a surname, as well as a martial art that they could handle. In the Wanli Tomorrow War and several small-scale Song-Japanese frictions in previous years, these wandering warriors with knives and slashing people played a role.

Compared with the same kind of people who were collectively organized because they had no reputation, Hiroki Murakami, who had killed a few robbers, was relatively lucky and could be the leader of a group of ashigaru.

It's just that... His own ashigaru doesn't look so well-trained...

Hiroki Murakami kept his face cold while quietly looking at the soldiers around him. I saw that these ashigaru were wearing shabby clothes, and they were barefoot, and they didn't even have straw sandals. I didn't have a knife in my hand that looked like it was some age, well, my own knife was also handed down from my grandfather.

But in any case, these ashigaru are much weaker than the ones I saw in the camp yesterday! It's just a bunch of peasants who put down their hoes.

Wait a minute... Farmer!

"Hey, you!" Murakami whispered to Ashigaru, "What did you do before?" ”

Ashigaru, who was called, humbly bowed his head and said, "The villain was a farmer before, and he was recruited by the samurai lord to fight. ”

Murakami swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and his face suddenly turned pale. He looked around with wide eyes, and the ashigaru led by himself and the other twenty or so ronins seemed to be just as weak... He was also carrying a pile of planks and straw.

"It's over, it's over..." Murakami's mind was already in chaos. Now the situation is obvious, I am going to be used as cannon fodder to fill the trenches of the Australian Song people!

But there are a few rows behind him who look fierce and vicious, holding an iron cannon and staring at him, if he wants to pretend to have a stomachache and escape back now, he should be killed on the spot... Damn, I thought they were here to help!

The more Murakami thought about it, the more frightened he became, and his eyes couldn't help but move down from the trench barrier in the distance, and he looked at the ground in a daze.

It's better not to look at it, but it's even more scary to look at it.

The originally brown earth has long been blackened by gunsmoke and flames, and sometimes it shows a dark red, and the barefoot of the ashigaru can squeeze out red sticky threads... There are also the corpses of Ashigaru who were killed before lying on the side of the road and no one to clean them up, the minced meat and internal organs that were blown by lead bullets were splashed in the mud, and some of their hands and feet were broken by the roots, and their limbs fell next to the corpses...

The plants here are sure to grow well in the coming year.

Thinking of this, Murakami's stomach is churning, like waves blown by a typhoon.

Subconsciously tilted his head, a corpse with a distorted face came into view, and the deceased's wide eyes were still staring at him.

Murakami finally couldn't help it, he bent down suddenly, opened his mouth and vomited wildly, spitting out the undigested rice balls he had eaten in the morning.

It was as if the athletes heard the referee's whistle, and after Murakami was the first to vomit, a few more ashigaru knelt on the ground in pain.

The iron cannons in the rear and the brigade for more than 20 meters let out a vicious curse, and the people in the back row of the team were whipped by the overseers, and they had to continue to walk forward in pain.

And on the turret, the Japanese vanguard in the telescope was already in effective range. Boss Bai put down the binoculars and grinned cruelly at the corners of his mouth.

Yesterday, I had already ordered my subordinates to fire solid bullets. But today, since Major Kong is determined to fight a defensive counterattack, it is better for him to put the Japanese people in a little bit and use two or three rounds of shotgun to directly destroy them.

"One hundred and fifty meters!" The artillerymen, who were always watching the distance, shouted.

There is no need for binoculars now, and the white boss with good eyesight can already see the way the Japanese people charge with their mouths wide open. He held a banner high and waved it down again: "Fire!" ”

"Bang!"

On the west battery where Boss Bai was, two 75mm guns roared almost simultaneously. A second or two later, the artillerymen on the eastern battery also gave death to the attacking Japanese people.

The two hundred pearl-sized shotguns were escorted by the butts through the thick smoke of the muzzles, and after flying for nearly 100 meters, they completely split, forming a dense barrage.

With the help of rational design, the two batteries formed an intertwined network of fire. As long as they fire at the same time, Boss Bai can ensure that the target will not have the slightest blind spot to dodge.

And in the direction directly opposite the muzzle, Murakami, who had been keeping an eye on the two Song forts, suddenly felt numb, and his eyes flashed with the light of the fire on the forts.

Within half a second, the chicken thief's ronin samurai was on the ground in a standard dog-gnawing mud stance. Almost at the same time, there was a terrifying sound of breaking the air above his head. Immediately, a muffled sound of "poof" sounded all around.

Murakashio subconsciously raised his head, and it just so happened that a handful of blood sprinkled his face. The thick smell of blood rushed into his nostrils, making him almost suffocate.

The scream of "Ahhh

The air was filled with tiny beads of blood, and Murakami's armor was pasted with a layer of bright red, and the entire vision lost its color. He raised his body slightly and looked back, and saw that this batch of more than 600 footmen had been knocked out of several layers, and it was estimated that they had become dead and injured by one-tenth in two or three seconds.

"Don't be stunned, rush!"

One of the ronins who survived the first round of artillery fire roared and knocked over a few stunned Ashigaru with his scabbard, and pulled out a snow-white knife, "All attack!" ”

"Onboard!"

The Warlords in the rear also began to fire their guns into the air, and the ashigaru who had been blinded by the cannons let out a beastly howl, suppressing their fear of cannonballs, and charging after the brave ronin as they shouted.

Murakami looked stunned at Ashigaru who began to run wildly around him, and when he lowered his head again, the unlucky guy in front of him had stopped moving.

His intestines were pouring out of the wound in his abdomen, and his glowing entrails were falling into the blood-stained mud, as if they were still steaming...

The ghost blows the lamp