The first to break the strange silence was the strong bearded Yuan soldier among the two closest to him. He crawled for several feet, abandoned the spear in his hand, pulled out a detached knife from his leggings, gasped, raised his arms with difficulty, and a grinned smile appeared on his face: "Go to die!"

"Go to die!" The Song soldier who was lying on his back seemed to be unable to move a finger also let out the same roar, and pulled out the short gun pressed under his body and had already loaded the ammunition, aiming at the Yuan soldiers' jaw and the fire and smoke sprayed.

Bang!

The bearded Yuan soldier's throat exploded, blood and flesh splattered everywhere, and his brain tissue was stirred into a ball of paste by the swirling lead, and he died instantly.

The sword of the sword fell to the ground, almost brushing across Song Bing's face, and a blood mark was drawn.

Almost at the moment when the gunshots sounded, Liang Erbiao suddenly turned over, pulled out the short gun at his waist, and roared like thunder: "Try!"

Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang!

At the top of the Wuming Peak, the fire flashed, the roar was shaking, and the thick smoke covered the entire mountain. The screams of screams echoed among the mountains and magnified, making people terrified.

After a moment, the howling mountain wind blew away the smoke, revealing a shocking scene on the top of the mountain.

On the Song army, the man in the hands of the long and short muskets, nearly half of them held double-tubes and shot three consecutive shots. The shooting rifle that shot out more than a dozen lead balls at a distance of less than ten steps was a terrible nightmare for any army.

At this moment, the situation of the Yuan army was no different from a nightmare - corpses were everywhere, blood was flowing into streams, intestines and stomachs, brains were broken, and half of the peak was covered. Many wounded and undead Yuan soldiers wailed throughout the valley, and echoed, causing the Yuan army troops who had just arrived at the foot of the mountain to change their colors.

Liu Zili's face was also ugly. Although he could not see the top of the mountain at the foot of the mountain, as long as he heard the terrifying gunfire, he could imagine the encounter of the Yuan soldiers on the top of the mountain.

"Liu Meng, this trash! At such a close distance, Song Bing even made him shoot unscrupulously. He didn't look for death like this!" Liu Zili's forehead leaped and scolded Liu Meng's bastard. Just as he was cursing, a thought suddenly jumped into his mind. Liu Zili was stunned for a while and almost slapped himself in the face. He finally understood that he had ignored a crucial thing.

On the top of the mountain, Liu Meng also wanted to slap himself in the face, just to confirm whether he was dreaming.

In just one cup of tea, the elite 100-man team he brought, except for the more than a dozen guys who were still climbing up hard, the other seventy or eighty were either dead or injured, and the whole team was full of thought. Even he was broken by a projectile, half of his face was bloody and bloody, one eye was blown up, and his eye socket was rotten, which was extremely tragic and the situation was extremely miserable.

"Why is this happening..." Liu Meng, who was in extreme horror, completely forgot the pain and murmured to himself. Of course, he didn't need anyone to answer, because the answer was clearer.

Physical strength, everything depends on physical strength.

In the era of cold weapons, physical strength comes first. Without physical strength, you can't swing your knife, lift your gun, pull your bow, lift your shield, or even if you can't fight - how can you fight a group of exhausted dog-like army?

When the two armies fought desperately to seize the Wuming Peak and finally reached the top almost at the same time, the soldiers on both sides were basically exhausted. At this moment, the key to determining the outcome of the battle depends on the weapons.

Drawing a bow requires strength, swinging a knife requires strength, stabbing a gun requires strength... Only by shooting, no strength - to be precise, just move the strength of your fingers.

The soldiers of the Dragon Que Army will only consume more and more physical strength than the Yuan soldiers. They even lose the strength to reload ammunition for the musket. If they are equipped with guns, such as hunting rifles, there is no such problem. However, the hunting rifles are only suitable for melee combat, so they must be equipped with flintlock rifles to assist long-range shooting.

However, before climbing the mountain, this situation was expected, so Chen Pingbo collected all the short guns of the above officers and handed them over to ten musketeers for use - the long-barrel flintlock musket cannot be pre-loaded before combat, but the short gun can be used.

When the two armies reach the top and meet on a narrow road, the first one can control others, and the later one becomes a dead person.

Liu Zili and Liu Meng finally lacked the experience of fighting muskets. They mechanically copied the experience of the battle between Qiongguan and thought that as long as they were put on, the musket would lose its effect. Indeed, under normal circumstances, this may be the case, but everyone was so tired that they almost died of exhaustion. The sticker was put on, but what was the difference between a soldier who had lost his strength and a lamb to be slaughtered?

For the Song army, this was simply hitting the gun directly at its own gun. How could the Dragon Que Army's musketeers let go of the meat that was sent to their mouths?

In a very short period of time, more than 80 Yuan soldiers who desperately reached the Wuming Peak were shot at close range without any fighting back, and blood flowed into a stream, making them feel like they were sent to the door as a target.

At this moment, the smoke of gunpowder disappeared, and Liu Meng looked around in a daze. Only seven or eight Yuan soldiers could stand beside him. They were all staggering and unable to stand steadily. They were half tired and half scared.

Crack, and strange sounds came from the opposite side. Liu Meng stared at his blood-red eyes and saw several Song Bings doing strange movements. They actually folded the muskets in their hands into two pieces, then used their thumbs to push out thick "firebuches" from their shoulder straps, and then filled them into the tail end of the "broken" musket barrel one by one. The last plate of the barrel returned to its original state. The sound of the gun was exactly the sound when the barrel was pressed.

What kind of gun is this?

Liu Meng was stunned, and a thin team general of Song Jun opposite him pointed at him coldly: "Kill!"

How could Liu Meng be spared? He raised his last little force, roared like a tiger, and swung his mace to smash the team.

As soon as he rushed out two steps, Liu Meng paused his fat body, loosened his hands, and took off his mace, and smashed it hard at Liang Erbiao like a hidden weapon.

Almost at the same time, two Song soldiers beside Liang Ertiao pulled the plate machine together. With a bang, Liu Meng's face was blooming.

Shi Dazhuang rushed out from the side, roared and used the flagpole as a gun, and tried his best to knock Liu out in his chest.

The mould swirled, making a numb whistling sound that made the scalp fly past two ears of Liang. The sharp hook teeth scraped the two earlobes of the flying beam, and blood gushed out.

Liang Ertiao covered his ears, his black face turned pale, and after a long time he said, "Mom... kill me, kill me!"

Amid the killing sound of Liang Erbiao, there were endless gunshots. The remaining seven or eight Yuan soldiers were beaten into sieves before they even had time to raise the cards.

The mountain wind blew, and the corpses were everywhere. The smoke of gunpowder surging, and more than a dozen people rolling and climbing and running wildly not far from the top of the mountain were vaguely seen...

Liu Meng, who was hit by force, howled bitterly, and his body rolled all the way, and the gourd seemed to roll from the top of the mountain to the foot of the mountain, and it stopped until it was exhausted. At this time, Liu Meng was afraid that his mother would not recognize him, and he lay there like a pile of rotten meat, bloody rotten meat.

De, a brittle horse hooves echoed in the valley. The horse hooves came to the pile of rotten meat and stopped. The eyes moved upwards, revealing Liu Zili's cold and hard face.
Chapter completed!