The Battle of Precious Jade Pass
The mist over the Jade-Sunken Valley hung like unyielding thick ink, dyeing the jagged rocks at the valley entrance an even deeper shade of gloom. The banners of Yuan Shang's army loomed faintly through the fog, and the clink of armor from twenty thousand soldiers drifted on the valley wind, carrying an anxious restlessness to break out. Ten li outside the valley, at Precious Jade Pass, three thousand troops of the Fontaine Musket Fleet stood in full battle formation. Their muzzles, dark and menacing, were aimed toward the valley mouth, and the maple emblems stitched onto their sails flapped sharply in the wind—like a sea of fire ready to ignite at any moment.
"General, the vanguard of Yuan Shang's army has passed Fallen Horse Slope. They will reach Precious Jade Pass in less than half an hour."
Lieutenant Lin Cang stood on the deck of the flagship Sweeping Beauty, his telescope pressed almost into his eye socket. He could see the glint of blades flickering in the mist—Yuan Shang's forces were advancing at full speed. The sound of hooves crushing stone carried across the water, making the planks beneath their feet tremble almost imperceptibly.
Fleet Commander Xiao Ce was polishing the sword at his waist, its gold-inlaid sheath glinting coldly in the sunlight. "Tell the men to check their muskets, load lead balls, and ready their flints." His voice was low, yet carried unshakable authority. "If Yuan Shang wants to escape the Jade-Sunken Valley, he will have to march over our dead bodies."
A crisp chorus of metal clinking erupted across the deck. Soldiers dropped to one knee, rested their barrels on the ship's iron railings, fingers hovering over triggers, their gazes locked firmly on the fog-shrouded valley mouth.
Precious Jade Pass was the only waterway leading out of the Jade-Sunken Valley. On both sides rose cliff faces as sharp as blades, with a channel less than a hundred paces wide in between—the perfect terrain for a musket fleet to unleash its full power. Xiao Ce had long ordered hidden stakes planted beneath the water and archers concealed on the cliffs, waiting only to trap Yuan Shang's army in this pocket.
The mist gradually lifted, and the vanguard of Yuan Shang's forces finally came into view. It was a cavalry unit, roughly a thousand men, their hooves churning up muddy water as they galloped across the shore mudflats. The leading general raised his spear and shouted the charge, while the cavalry behind him brandished their sabers, attempting to surge across the waterway in one breath.
"Fire!"
Xiao Ce slashed his sword downward sharply.
In an instant, three thousand muskets roared in unison. Fire blazed along the ship's rails, and thick smoke billowed upward like mushroom clouds. Lead bullets sliced through the air with a shrill whine, tearing a massive gap in the charging cavalry. The frontline riders were struck down, men and horses sent flying like broken kites, slamming into the water with enormous splashes. Those behind could not brake in time, crashing into one another. The screams of men and neighs of horses mingled with the echoes of gunfire, reverberating through the canyon.
"Reload for the second volley!" Lin Cang's shout cut through the chaos.
The soldiers moved with practiced speed—emptying spent cartridges, drawing new lead balls from waist pouches, ramming them home with ramrods, and lighting their fuses. The routine was fluid; in moments, the second volley erupted in a new flash of fire.
Yuan Shang's cavalry fell into complete disarray. Survivors tried to wheel their horses around, only to be pushed forward by the infantry pouring in from behind. Standing on the high ground at the valley entrance, Yuan Shang's face turned ashen as he watched the carnage unfold. He had not expected the Fontaine Musketeers to possess such ferocious firepower; in just two volleys, nearly half his vanguard cavalry had been wiped out.
"Archers, suppress them! Infantry, build pontoon bridges!" Yuan Shang ground his teeth and ordered.
He knew retreat was impossible. Provisions in the Jade-Sunken Valley were exhausted; any delay would mean collapse without a fight. Hundreds of archers rushed to the water's edge and loosed a hail of arrows at the musketeers aboard the ships, but most were blocked by the ship's planking shields. Only a handful struck soldiers who had not ducked in time. Meanwhile, the infantry carried wooden planks, charging into the water through the storm of bullets to construct floating bridges.
"Cliff archers, loose!" Xiao Ce had long prepared for this.
At the signal, archers on the cliffs unleashed a swarm of arrows, targeting the bridge-building infantry. Planks were knocked over the moment they touched the water, soldiers crumpled and fell, and the surface soon floated with a layer of bodies.
The battle descended into a stalemate. Time and again, Yuan Shang's forces mounted charges, only to be repelled by musket fire and arrows. The water turned deep red, floating corpses and broken weapons bobbing in the waves. The Fontaine Musketeers also grew weary—fingers rubbed raw and blistered by triggers, choking on gunsmoke—but not a man retreated. Xiao Ce stood at the bow, blood crusted on his sword, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the valley mouth, where dense ranks of Yuan Shang's soldiers continued to gather.
"General, ammunition is running low!" Lin Cang reported anxiously. An arrow had pierced his left arm, blood soaking his sleeve, yet he still gripped the command flag tightly.
Xiao Ce glanced at the ammunition crates behind them—more than half empty. He took a deep breath, drew his sword, and pointed it toward the valley. "Men, draw your blades! Prepare for boarding combat!"
At that moment, chaos erupted in Yuan Shang's formation. Seeing no hope of a frontal breakthrough, Yuan Shang had secretly dispatched a five-thousand-strong unit to scale the cliff paths and ambush the fleet from behind. But Xiao Ce had long stationed sentries on the cliffs; they lit beacon fires, sending word back to the ships.
"Well done!" A sharp glint flashed in Xiao Ce's eyes. "Left wing fleet, follow me to engage! Right wing, hold position and continue blocking the front!"
Twenty warships turned, sailing toward the paths beneath the cliffs. As they neared the shore, they saw Yuan Shang's ambush force climbing down the steep mountain paths. On Xiao Ce's order, soldiers aboard hurled lit fire pots down upon them. The pots exploded among the men, flames spreading instantly, screams rising one after another. The ambush force descended into panic; many burned to death or slipped and fell from the cliffs.
Witnessing the ambush's failure, Yuan Shang's army lost all morale. Looking out over the field of corpses, Yuan Shang knew all was lost. He closed his eyes in pain, then opened them, filled with grim resolve. "Sound the retreat! Break out toward the southwest!"
The order extinguished the last spark of fighting spirit in Yuan Shang's ranks. Soldiers abandoned their charges and fled in disorder. Sensing the moment, Xiao Ce ordered a full pursuit. The musketeers fired volleys into the retreating horde, cutting down many more fleeing troops.
Not until the sun dipped below the horizon did the gunfire gradually fade. Precious Jade Pass fell silent, save for the wind's mournful sigh over the water. When tallying the casualties, Lin Cang reported in a hoarse voice: "General, we have slain eight thousand enemies and seized countless weapons. Yuan Shang has fled southwest with his remaining forces."
Xiao Ce stared in the direction of their escape without speaking. He walked to the ship's railing, looked at the floating corpses on the water, and slowly closed his eyes. The battle was won, but at a heavy cost. On the deck, surviving soldiers helped one another; many sank to the ground, their faces streaked with indistinguishable sweat and tears.
Mist rose once more over the Jade-Sunken Valley, as if to bury this brutal battle entirely. Yet on the waters of Precious Jade Pass, the banner of the Fontaine Musketeer Fleet still fluttered in the wind—its edges blackened by gunpowder smoke, a mark frozen in the blood-red dusk.