Munitions Empire

An oceanic nation, what is it most afraid of? The greatest fear is to wake up one morning and find the enemy fleet lying across the sea...

When the civilians of the Taren Kingdom had finished their midday meal, they noticed soldiers hurrying through the streets, and the atmosphere suddenly turned desolate and oppressive.

They quickly learned what had happened—a fleet had appeared off the coast of their King City, positioned atop the sea they relied on for their survival.

Some citizens gathered the courage to peer from more secluded places, where they witnessed a smoke-choked sea and dark gray warships with seagulls circling above them.

Then, before these civilians could retract their heads, they saw flashes of fire spewing from the warships.

The 150mm caliber naval guns roared to life, as the flagship Wolf 1 opened fire on the King City of the Taren Kingdom.

The first shell struck the docks inside the harbor, instantly throwing people and the stacked goods on the dock into chaos and casting them into the sea.

Panic ensued as everyone started to flee for their lives; soldiers discarded their weapons and blended into the crowd of porters, bumping around aimlessly like headless flies.

Soon after, the royal coastal batteries started firing back, but these outdated muzzle-loading cannons sounded feeble in comparison, like the soft panting of a woman.

The firepower of the two sides wasn't even on the same level—a single barrage silenced the coastal batteries amidst rolling smoke and dust, as if they were completely paralyzed.

Following this, the fleet made short work of the sail-powered warships attempting to break out from the harbor, cleaning them up as easily as slicing through melons.

Not one of the more than 20 warships escaped; they were all sunk on their escape route. These painstakingly assembled warships had lasted less than an hour.

The most tragic sight was of a sinking warship, whose broken mast still protruded from the sea, while the churning waves thrust broken deck planks and clutter toward the coast, silencing the whole of King City.

It wasn't until then that the civilians seemed to realize the thunderous cannon sounds had stopped—the pounding that felt like it was striking directly on their chests came to an abrupt end.

But before anyone could breathe a sigh of relief, the peculiar fleet, comprised of sail-less warships, opened fire once again.

This time, their target was the urban area of the King City! Columns of black smoke soared into the sky, and in an instant, hundreds were buried under the explosions.

The soldiers garrisoned on the city walls turned pale with fright, with more and more of them throwing down their weapons and turning to run.

Most of them were just recruits, who had received less than a month of training. It was pure folly to expect them to face the artillery fire head-on.

And it wasn't just the recruits—even among their officers behind them, few maintained the resolve to fight at this point.

Originally, the Taren Kingdom was a maritime power. Competent and ambitious officers were concentrated in the Navy, along with most of the talent.

The Army was merely a facade; in most cases, nothing more than a placeholder. To hope they could turn the tide was nothing short of a joke.

But now, they had no choice but to rely on these unreliable Army soldiers and officers—because the stronger Navy had by this time already sunk to the seafloor to feed the sharks.

Of course, there were those luckier, or perhaps unluckier ones, who were sent to the Northern Ridge to work as miners, undertaking the most dangerous and exhausting labor every day.

Perhaps for them, death was even a better release. Regardless, these elite sailors, now captives, were no longer something the Taren Kingdom could depend on...

The onlooking civilians, frightened, pulled their heads back in; the smell of explosive gunpowder was already spreading through the air.

Atop the city walls, high-ranking officers were struggling to restrain the increasing number of soldiers trying to flee, then they watched, stunned, as a nearby section of the wall was blasted open by artillery.

Over a meter of the stone wall collapsed, and although it didn't fall completely, the battlements and watchtowers were no longer in sight.

The few soldiers stationed there were reduced to severed limbs and scattered body parts—naturally, some vanished without a trace, but no one was aware of that.

Swallowing hard, the officer who had just been dragging a fleeing soldier by the collar let go of his grasp, beckoning to his troops crouched behind the battlements, shouting, "Quick! Get out of there! Move! Hurry!"

Those soldiers who heard his cries did not hesitate to follow their commander's order, running with practiced efficiency.

They left behind their weapons, and didn't bother with the 30-year-old Shireck muzzle-loading cannon beside them, turning on their heels to run with their commander.

Outside the city, in a camp far from the coast, upon hearing the booming of the cannons, the recruits scattered in disarray, and the accompanying nobility officers also took to their heels and fled.

3000 newly conscripted "new recruits," who were hastily gathered just yesterday and given Gold Coins as a reluctant incentive, scattered like birds and beasts in an instant, leaving not a single one behind.

Even the guards watching over the weapons stored in the camp had vanished without a trace, leaving 2000 Shireck Flintlock Guns—cobbled together from various sources—untouched, abandoned without anyone to question it.

And all of this happened in less than two hours after the battle had just begun. The entire Taren King City seemed as weak as Beijing City before Li Zicheng.

Unfortunately, the warships of the Great Tang Group's security Navy, lying across the ocean surface, had no intention of sending people to land. They were content to stay at sea, bombarding the unfortunate city with their 120mm and 150mm caliber artillery, round after relentless round.

"Don't fire! Everyone stop firing! Play dead! Can you just play dead for me?" The Taren general responsible for the artillery battery hadn't fled, but the overwhelming enemy shelling had nearly scared him senseless.

His cannons had a range of just over 1000 meters, but their accuracy faltered past 500 meters.

Yet the enemy's shells were devastatingly precise, striking their target eight times out of ten; after just two volleys, he knew he was in for a beating.

So, very quickly, he began to give up—simply put, he ordered all his guns to cease fire, enduring three full barrages from the enemy without flinching, teeth clenched, refusing to return fire.

Finally, he was successful, he endured until "victory"! Assuming his position was completely destroyed, the enemy redirected their assault towards the city, paying no more attention to his artillery battery.

In truth, his battery didn't have many functioning cannons left: the main force of 30 Shireck muzzle-loading cannons were relics of the past era, inferior in quality to the Navy's muzzle-loading naval guns.

But weren't those warships equipped with the most advanced Shireck naval muzzle-loading cannons now soaking at the bottom of the sea?

The equipment he had was already 20 years out of date; was there really any hope for him to do something with it?

Moreover, one-third of those big guns had already been destroyed. He had tried his best... really.

"Sir! Sir!" an officer, clutching at the Longsword at his waist, ran up to the artillery platform in a panic and, after glancing at a cannon barrel that had fallen to the ground, he spoke fearfully, "Sir... His Majesty... His Majesty sent me to... to check, see why... why the platform isn't...

returning fire..."

On his way here, he passed deserters and chaotic civilians, and he could see that the fact this battery held and didn't flee already spoke to "well-disciplined troops."

After all, artillery was a technical branch that required constant year-round training, so there was a fundamental difference compared to those new recruits on the city walls.

But that was as far as it went.

"We did just fire back! But the enemy shelling was too fierce, our losses heavy, we had no choice but to cease bombardment temporarily..." the officer commanding the artillery explained.

He did indeed just open fire, and for sure, they received quite a bruising from the enemy warships.

As he spoke, two soldiers passed by in front of him carrying a body, lending his previous answer more credibility.

The messenger officer, a confidant of the King, understood the difficulties of the artillery commander, but still he pleaded weakly, "Sir! If you return fire, the enemy will stop bombarding the King City!"

"I'm helpless! We fired a volley earlier, and in response, they fired five volleys at us. Now a third of our cannons are destroyed, our casualties heavy, we truly can't continue the fight!" The artillery officer was adamant about not resuming fire.

There was no way; firing now would indeed be like adding fuel to the fire, and he wasn't ready to light himself up to illuminate others.

"His Majesty promises, if you return fire, you'll be rewarded with 500 Gold Coins, and the gunners will receive an additional 1000 Gold Coins!" The messenger officer, out of options, promised a hefty reward.

As the saying goes, generous rewards bring out brave deeds, and throughout history, there have always been those willing to risk their lives for a few coins.

Unfortunately, the commander of the artillery before him remained unmoved. "Ha... Earning that money is one thing, but you have to be alive to spend it, don't you!"

While speaking, he glanced at a body that nobody had tended to yet—its head was blasted open, a gruesome sight to behold.

"His Majesty orders you to keep firing! If you disobey... I will..." The King's confidant clenched his teeth and decided to threaten.

"How dare you send us to our deaths?" the deputy commander of the artillery battery, who was standing behind, couldn't hold back any longer. With a loud shout, he drew his Longsword and struck at the King's confidant.

The King's confidant was caught completely off guard, and just as he turned around, a sword pierced through his chest. He clutched the blade, staring at his assailant in disbelief, "You! You dare... You dare to rebel! The King... His Majesty will not let you go...

you..."

He wanted to say more, but his opponent kicked him in the stomach, using the momentum to pull out his Longsword, and blood spurted out, leaving even the artillery commander stunned on the spot.

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