Munitions Empire

Chapter 313 The Turmoil of the 309 Cities

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Negotiating peace is never an easy task, especially when the enemy has reached your doorstep. Treaties like the Pact of Chanyuan, those made under the city walls, and at Bianqiao Bridge... all were signed from a position of weakness.

Think about it, it's quite realistic: when someone has a cleaver at your neck and killing isn't considered a crime, who would willingly let it go so easily?

So, at such times, it's definitely a matter of paying up if you have money, giving away your daughter if you have one... As for having nothing, kneeling and calling out 'dad' twice surely isn't shameful.

After all, survival is what truly matters. The Song Dynasty managed to wear down the Liao with the Pact of Chanyuan, and the Tang Dynasty ensnared the Turks with the Pact of Bianqiao Bridge, because having a glimmer of hope is still having hope to some extent.

But when you're on the receiving end of a beating, negotiating peace with the enemy becomes an art of finesse.

Take this case, for instance, when the Taren Kingdom faced the warships of the Great Tang Group stationed outside its King City, it found that communicating properly with the adversary was seemingly impossible...

The King sent out his envoy, determined to have a proper discussion with the enemy commander, only to have the white-flagged sailboat sunk midway as soon as it set sail.

Consequently, it wasn't easy to find another captain with the guts to venture out to sea with his men, even with a reward raised to 200 Gold Coins.

There was no choice in the matter; after all, the old saying goes, one must be alive to spend money after earning it.

In such an almost certain death situation, no one would jest with their life, and everyone could only feign ignorance, helplessly watching their harbored ships being sunk by enemy vessels.

Panic has already spread throughout the city, with many people beginning to flee outside the city walls. Those with money and influence had estates outside the city and were naturally taking refuge there.

Soon, King Taren X realized, to his astonishment, that he couldn't even gather all his ministers anymore.

There was no helping it—some were genuinely killed by the bombardments, some had fled, others were too scared to leave their homes, and the rest were truly ill and couldn't get up.

All things considered, the state of the country seemed to be collapsing, and King Taren X was utterly unable to stop this process. He couldn't even control his own military anymore.

The new barracks outside the city had been emptied, and even though the soldiers stationed within the city included both new recruits and veterans, most had already disintegrated.

Even if some units were still holding their ground, there were no suitable orders left to give them.

After all, it seems they could maintain their integrity by staying put, but if you asked them to move, who could guarantee they wouldn't disband en route?

Thus, the best strategy wasn't to mobilize these still existing troops but to have them stand their ground in their current positions and maintain a state of immobility...

However, the reality was troops dwindling as the days passed, the enemy's attacks weren't inconsequential. Those stationed on the city walls were being drained, their remaining survivors scattering.

Thus, the city's military strength was diminishing, and now all that King Taren X could control was his guard, about 1000 men or two battalions' worth of power.

This was his last bastion, the reason he had been able to sit securely in his Royal Palace so far.

Eventually, the nobleman, who had fired six shots, realized his handgun was now empty, and the steward on the carriage had also run out of bullets.

Stumbling and losing his footing, the old steward fell from the carriage, landing directly on the heads of the surrounding crowd. Those who were desperately looting didn't even bother to step aside; instead, they lifted him up and began going through his pockets.

The gold coins he had hidden in his pockets were snatched away, and the sterling silver pocket watch he cherished vanished in an instant.

Even his buttons were ripped from his clothes within two seconds, and the holster from his coat pocket along with any leftover bullets were taken as well.

Soon, his handgun was stolen, his clothes were torn to shreds, and, ultimately, he was thrown to the ground. Before he could plead for mercy, someone stepped on his mouth.

Feet were on his stomach, on his chest, and as he tried to use his arms to protect his head, they were blocked by the countless thrashing legs.

In just a few seconds, he was trampled to death beside the carriage.

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At that moment, the carriage door, under extreme pressure, was finally broken through as a man was shoved inside. He managed to grab hold of a lady's leg, smearing his saliva on her shoe.

The nobleman then finally realized that if he did not do something immediately, he was sure to die right there, so he pulled out gold coins from his pocket and threw them desperately out of the carriage.

The people preparing to enter the carriage began scrambling for these coins, and those attempting to rush the carriage seemed to slow down.

But quickly, he found the gold coins he brought were too few. He even stripped off his family ring and threw it outside the carriage.

Then, he found that those who had stormed the carriage were frantically searching his pockets. He raised his foot and kicked one in the stomach.

When he tried to kick again, he was choked from the other side—a grip tightened around his neck. In an instant, all he felt was fear, his hands desperately trying to grab the muscular arms strangling him.

By now, he was oblivious to his wife, whose clothes had been torn open; he tried to breathe but couldn't wrench free from the arms that had labored over the years.

Soon, his legs had nothing left but the power to fumble blindly, while the woman beside him had already fallen silent.

The carriage could not withstand anymore and toppled over, crashing down on the civilians on the other side.

In the ensuing chaos, all the looting commoners realized something: those high and mighty nobles, along with their fiercely loyal and ruthless henchmen, seemed... utterly defenseless!

Thus, these bloodied drifters continued their rampage, smashing the doors and windows of nearby buildings, bursting into rooms to find whatever they desired.

If the owners were home, they killed them. If the houses were empty, they simply took whatever they saw.

These people moved in packs, some even wearing the Taren Kingdom military uniforms and carrying Shireck's flintlock guns.

Armed with guns, bayonets, and longswords, they gradually joined with other robbers and the shattered troops, becoming a band of bandits no ordinary citizen could withstand alone.