Li Zicheng raised an eyebrow, grasping the gravity of the situation. These defecting Ming troops lacked any real loyalty; once they believed the words on the white cloth, the chances of them turning against him were immense. He had to find a countermeasure.
Unable to speak his mind in front of so many, he could only continue to observe the battle. The second wave of soldiers had suffered heavy casualties; faced with the roaring flames, they halted their charge, scrambling back to avoid the defenders' volleys.
Liu Fangliang’s brow was furrowed in a knot. He glanced at Li Zicheng and Liu Zongmin, wanting to speak but hesitating. Though he did not know what the Ming army had packed into the explosives they were throwing, he was well aware that the devices were formidable. Not only did they kill and maim soldiers nearby, but they also neutralized many more, leaving them coughing incessantly, hunched over or sprawled on the ground, clutching their noses and mouths. Combined with the quilts soaked in gunpowder, not even the most elite infantry—or even the gods themselves—could afford to stand their ground.
Chapter 78