Section Thirty-Five: The Reversed Cannon (Part Two)

Antonio and Hendry were still unaware that such a drastic change had already been discovered. At this moment, most of the soldiers of the First Battalion had surrounded the Governor’s Mansion in three layers, determined not to give the leader of the Revolutionary League even the slightest chance to escape.

Under Antonio’s command, the musket unit launched three assaults on the underground prison, but each ended the same way. At the entrance, the Gaul City’s garrison easily repelled the rioting prisoners. The prisoners had only seized a few weapons and had no real means of defense—how could they possibly contend with fully armed soldiers? However, once the troops forced their way past the entrance and into the stone steps, passageways, and corridors, things were not so simple.

The main reason was the narrowness of these places, and the fact that among the prisoners, there were two individuals who were especially difficult to handle: Wei Wujie and their target, Grant. Together, these two gave Antonio’s troops a hard time.

Both possessed astonishing strength, with Grant being the stronger, but Wei Wujie also wielded mystical arts. The two of them stood side by side at corners, coordinating seamlessly. Wei Wujie continually cast spells and protective arts on himself and Grant, neutralizing the musket fire, while Grant, with nothing to fear, slew the attackers. The musket unit could only advance slowly, and the melee troops found it even harder to pose a threat. Even if they managed to close in under the cover of gunfire, the prisoners behind the two would drag them in and give them a thorough beating.

Wei Wujie and Grant even organized a counterattack, relying on their immense strength to charge back to the entrance once more, but the giant cannon went into action again, forcing them back.

In the end, Antonio had no choice but to temporarily halt the assault. Although his side had an overwhelming numerical advantage, the environment of the underground prison made it impossible to capitalize on. Resorting to a ruthless tactic, Antonio ordered anything that could produce smoke or burn to be thrown inside, then summoned the archers to fire flaming arrows.

Soon, the flammable materials ignited. Wei Wujie used water-based mystical arts to suppress the flames and for a time held the fire in check, but Antonio was determined. He commanded the giant cannon to fire shells inside, while the archers threw in more combustibles and lit them with flaming arrows. The red-hot cannonballs further increased the chances of fire.

Under the cannon’s bombardment, flames rose anew at the entrance. Soldiers kept firing in more combustibles, and despite Wei Wujie’s efforts, he could no longer contain the blaze alone. Smoke thickened, blurring the vision of both sides. Antonio’s men fired blindly into the haze, and every few minutes, a cannon shell would thunder into the corridor—though, with the increased firing rate, the shells had no time to glow red-hot.

Panic began to spread inside. At first, the prisoners believed that with Grant leading them, there was hope of breaking out alive. But now, thick smoke and flames blocked the entrance, and more fuel kept being thrown in. For the moment, the fire was confined to the entrance and the stairs leading to the first level, but at this rate, it would soon reach deeper inside. Most importantly, even if the Gaul City troops ceased their attack, the suffocating smoke would eventually kill everyone below. And that’s not to mention the giant shells flying in at intervals, ricocheting between stone walls—if not for Grant and Wei Wujie, everyone would have been forced to retreat to the second level.

“This can’t go on,” muttered Wei Wujie, frowning. Of all present, only he and Grant were unaffected by the smoke, having already initiated internal breathing techniques. Yet their vision was still blocked, and his all-seeing spell was useless. The heat from the fire made it impossible to distinguish between flaming arrows, combustibles, and people. At such a moment, a single misjudgment could be fatal.

“Hold on a bit longer. There’s bound to be a change soon,” said Grant.

But the prisoners could endure no more. Unlike Wei Wujie and Grant, they tore rags, soaked them in their own urine—paying no heed to the stench—and tied them over their mouths and noses, then dashed outside, hoping the smoke would provide cover for their escape.

They quickly realized their mistake. The ruthless Antonio had deployed the First Battalion to completely surround the Governor’s Mansion. Even with the smoke as cover, as soon as the prisoners burst from the haze, they found themselves staring down a wall of muskets.

A few desperate prisoners, wielding stolen weapons, charged at Antonio’s men, but they died even faster, their bodies riddled with bullets.

“Fire the cannon! They can’t hold out any longer!” Hendry shouted excitedly, watching as the prisoners, unable to withstand the smoke and flames, fled one by one. He hadn’t yet seen Grant, but was convinced that a few more shots and continued pressure would finish both of them. As long as they were kept trapped inside, their fate was sealed.

But Wei Wujie was not the sort to let himself be cornered. His temper flared as he sneered, “If you want to stay here, be my guest. I, for one, am going to try breaking out again.”

He fortified himself with all manner of protective spells, then called out to the remaining prisoners, “Those who wish to charge out with me, follow. If you want to stay, remain where you are.”

With that, Wei Wujie dashed up the stone steps. A golden radiance flared from his abdomen, and a spring-green light shimmered in his hands, scattering drops of emerald glow. Strangely, wherever these green sparks fell on the flames, the fire and smoke vanished instantly, opening a path forward.

But as soon as the smoke cleared, those outside spotted him, and gunfire erupted again. This time, however, Wei Wujie was resolute and refused to retreat. Golden light blazed around him as he quickly reinforced himself with further protective spells of the Five Sacred Mountains and the True Water of the North Sea. He also used the art of Shifting Heaven and Earth, causing some bullets to veer a meter away and blocking others. By sheer force, he burst through the entrance.

Spurred by his determination, he didn’t attempt to flee but charged straight through the hail of bullets toward Antonio and Hendry at the cannon battery. Hendry was startled, but Antonio waved dismissively, and the artillerymen quickly lit the giant cannon’s fuse.

Under the torrent of bullets, Wei Wujie could only watch helplessly. Though the battle had lasted only a short while, his mystical energy was already greatly depleted—each bullet he blocked drained him further.

When he saw the shell fired from the giant cannon, memories of his previous close call surged up. He dodged with all his might. Fortunately, the cannon was fixed to fire straight at the prison entrance, so as long as he stayed off that line, he was safe.

At the same time, he sent out a Crescent Black Gold Slash, shaped like a crescent moon, arcing toward Antonio and Hendry.

Wei Wujie had barely landed when the well-trained First Battalion swapped in a fresh line of musketeers to fire at him. The sword energy missed its mark—Hendry and Antonio had taken cover behind the fixed artillery platform and escaped the attack, with only a corner of the platform sliced off.

Recovering from the shock, Antonio was furious. With a wave, the pikemen and axemen assigned to protect the musketeers closed in on Wei Wujie.

In an instant, Wei Wujie was surrounded. Even if he managed to break through the encirclement, outside were still ranks of musketeers with their guns trained on him. Moreover, the Euclid Five must be waiting for a chance to strike.

A faint tremor rippled through the ground, and from the tunnel entrance came the sound of the giant cannon shell smashing into the stone wall.

Wei Wujie sensed several lethal auras rapidly converging on him—certainly the Euclid Five, and perhaps others as well.

But just then, he witnessed a strange sight: several dark objects flew overhead and landed around him with heavy thuds. These things resembled the earlier giant cannon shells, but were smaller—about the size of a human head—and there were a good seven or eight of them. Trailing behind were even smaller projectiles, at least the size of a fist, far deadlier than musket balls.

The shells crashed into the First Battalion’s ranks, felling their targets instantly and throwing the soldiers into confusion. Where had these shells come from?

At that moment, another figure burst from the prison entrance—it was Grant, sword in hand, dashing toward Wei Wujie. As he neared, he gripped his sword with both hands, and the blade gleamed with yellow light as he struck the ground heavily. The sword shattered into countless fragments upon contact, but its force was successfully channeled underground.

Wei Wujie sensed a surge of force rushing toward his feet and was about to leap away when Grant shouted, “Don’t move!” Obediently, he held still.

The next instant, a tremendous force erupted from the earth, vaguely dragon-shaped, enveloping Wei Wujie. Clods of earth flew outward, larger chunks propelled with such power they shot forth like hundreds of bullets. The force between the clods was no less powerful than a giant cannon shell smashing into a stone wall.

This was the Sword Saint’s secret art, an earth element technique—Earth Erupts with Swords!

Dozens more shells arced through the sky into the crowd, plunging the scene into utter chaos. The musket unit’s formation dissolved; Grant’s attack had turned everyone into mud-covered figures, and the indiscriminate shelling from above shattered all plans and formations.

“It’s from the city wall! The city wall!” Hendry finally realized the source. In all Gaul City, apart from the giant cannon before them, there was only one place with artillery: the city wall, which boasted eight bronze cannons and more than a dozen small cast-iron pieces.