Chapter 1254 - Breaking the City

The assault on Zhongzuo Garrison's walls began in earnest.

The battalion guns pounded the gatehouse while the Marines advanced in skirmish order, using what cover they could find. Smoke hung thick in the air, the acrid smell of gunpowder filling every breath.

Lü Zeyang led the assault engineers forward. These men carried not just rifles but demolition charges—packages of gunpowder wrapped in oilcloth, with friction-ignited fuses. Their mission was simple: blow open the gates.

The surviving defenders on the walls kept up a sporadic fire, but the Marines' covering volleys made it dangerous to show themselves. The typewriters swept the battlements whenever a head appeared, keeping the defenders pinned down and cowering behind the stone parapets.

At the base of the wall, Lü Zeyang's team set to work. Two engineers braced a ladder against the wall while others covered them with their rifles. A third engineer scrambled up with a demolition charge, wedging it into the gap between the gate and the wall.

"Fire in the hole!"

The engineer lit the fuse and slid down the ladder. The team sprinted back to a safe distance, throwing themselves flat.

The explosion shattered the afternoon air. Stone and wood fragments flew in all directions. When the smoke cleared, a gap had appeared beside the gate—not large, but enough for determined men to squeeze through.

"First squad, with me!" Lü Zeyang shouted. He dashed forward, Hall rifle at the ready.

Inside the garrison, chaos reigned.

The defenders, demoralized by the failed charge and the relentless artillery fire, were in no shape to mount an organized defense. Some fled toward the rear, hoping to escape over the walls. Others threw down their weapons and fell to their knees, begging for mercy.

Lü Zeyang and his squad fought their way through the narrow streets, taking fire from windows and rooftops. A Marine fell beside him, hit in the throat—dead before he hit the ground. Another went down clutching his stomach, cursing through gritted teeth. But they kept pushing forward, clearing buildings one by one.

Behind them, more Marines were pouring through the breach. The battalion guns shifted their fire to the rear of the garrison, preventing reinforcements from reaching the fighting. The typewriters moved up to provide covering fire down the main street, their rotary barrels churning through belt after belt of ammunition.

Somewhere ahead, the Zheng commanders were trying to rally their men. Lü Zeyang could hear the shouts, the clashing of weapons. But the heart had gone out of the defense. Too many men had fallen in the charge. Too many more were fleeing.

On the walls, Mateus and his Portuguese gunners made their last stand. They had abandoned the naval guns—the counter-battery fire had disabled them both—and were now fighting with muskets and swords. One by one, they fell, selling their lives dearly.

Tō Tarō and his Japanese Guard fought with the desperate courage of men who knew they were doomed. They formed a human wall across a narrow street, their katanas and tanegashima ready. When the Marines appeared at the end of the street, they charged.

It was a massacre.

The Hall rifles cut them down before they could close the distance. Tō Tarō took three bullets before he fell, his sword still raised for a blow that would never land.

Shi Zhiqi entered the garrison at the head of Second Company and found the streets littered with bodies. The fighting was still going on—he could hear rifle fire and screams from deeper in the garrison—but it was clearly winding down.

"Where's Zheng Zhilong?" he demanded of a captured officer.

The man, bleeding from a head wound, shook his head miserably. "Gone. He left through the back gate when the charge failed."

"Damn." Shi Zhiqi turned to his runner. "Signal the ships—Zheng Zhilong has escaped. Begin pursuit."

He looked around at the carnage—the bodies sprawled in doorways, the wounded moaning in the gutters, the smoke still rising from burning buildings. The garrison was theirs. The battle—though not the campaign—was over.

The First Expeditionary Force had taken Zhongzuo Garrison in less than three hours. Their casualties were heavy—forty-seven dead, over a hundred wounded—but they had utterly destroyed the Zheng land forces. Official estimates put the enemy dead at over a thousand, with hundreds more captured.

But the main prize—Zheng Zhilong himself—had slipped through their fingers.

"Find him," Shi Zhiqi ordered. "He can't have gotten far."

The pursuit began.

(End of Chapter)