Chapter 746: A Burning Night
The light from each explosion bloomed like a firefly against the dark.
Van’er raised his telescope and scanned the oasis.
The torches below were the whole map. They clustered thicker the closer they came to Iron Sand City—thousands of small flames marking the watchdog camp in precise, readable positions. The artillery battalion’s targets couldn’t have been more clearly drawn.
After a short interval, a larger detonation rolled up from deep in the oasis.
“The landing pattern is scattered,” Cat’s Claw muttered beside him, also watching.
“Best we can do. Setting a cannon in sand is nothing like setting it on a road—the first shots are always ranging shots.” Jop fed the next shell into the barrel. “Try to push it further in anyway. If we drop one on His Excellency Iron Axe’s head, we’re finished.”
“Don’t worry. The tavern is well away from the camp. If we hit it by mistake, every firing manual ever written would need to be revised from the beginning.” Rodney locked the firing rope and called out: “Ready!”
“Fire.” Van’er gave the nod.
Both Longsong Cannons discharged at once—sound compressed into a single crushing blow, muzzle flame briefly turning the desert floor pale, the concussion raising enough dust to close everyone’s eyes.
The small oasis was no fortified town. It was a collection of clan dwellings outside Iron Sand City’s walls: leather tents, cloth shelters, a few light structures and watchtowers. No brick. No stone.
Against that, the Longsong Cannons were unusually effective.
Each shell struck and the area went dark for a heartbeat—then light returned, brighter than before. The explosions scattered torches, caught tents, and the tent fabric and oil mixed with the oasis’s other dry materials and fed itself into something larger. After several rounds, broad swaths of the camp were burning. The evening wind took the flames and spread them.
This was the artillery battalion’s first use of ranging tables and calculated firing positions rather than direct observation. The results were uneven. But the target was fragile and the wind was cooperative, and between the two, what had been gaps in accuracy became irrelevant. The camp of the Sand Nation watchdogs was lighting up in patches that were joining together.
Van’er watched the fire spread and thought: this is what the Lord of War means.
He let his eyes move briefly to the gun battalion lying in ambush on either flank, and the machine gun squads on the sand hills, and felt—not for the first time—that he had made the right choice. The future of warfare lived in artillery. Flintlocks had a role: supporting the cannons, clearing what the cannons left. Nothing more.
It took Thuram a considerable time to recover from the concussion.
His ears still rang—not a pain exactly, but a persistent vibration, as if someone had laid a flat palm across both sides of his head simultaneously. The sounds that followed were too large for the word thunder: deep below the percussion of the charges, a structural groan of things falling.
A watchtower not far from the tavern vanished inside a fireball. The wood didn’t burn—it disassembled, the pieces thrown outward at speed, and then the pressure wave from the explosion hit the wall and the air left his lungs.
Through the new gaps in the wall he could see it clearly. Tents caught from the splashing fires and became their own fires. People came out of the flames already burning, rolling and struggling in the sand, and most of them did not stop burning. The warriors nearest the first watchtower lay where they had fallen—not dead, necessarily, but something had ended for them. They would not stand again.
Not thunder. Not lightning. This is fire from the sky itself. This is what the Heavenly Father holds in reserve.
He waited for the attack to cease.
It did not.
Every few minutes the double crack of detonation returned, followed by the fireball and the pressure, and he realized the shells were no longer scattered—they were converging. They were walking toward the center of the oasis, where the watchdogs lived. The most fertile ground, the most sheltered position, the prize the big clans had set their hounds to guard.
It was burning.
He looked at Iron Axe differently now.
“By the Three Gods…” His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. “You don’t have this kind of power on your own. Who did you align yourself with? The northerners?”
“A merciful king,” Iron Axe said. “He will bring order and safety to the Ironsand people of the Mojin clan.”
“That’s—” Thuram started to say impossible, but the sea of fire visible through the shattered wall caught the word and swallowed it before it reached his mouth.
“Not everyone welcomes the change willingly. The oasis sustains the Sand Nation—but it also imprisons them. The fighting for survival, the killing and the scheming—all of it grows from scarcity. The oasis that should give life is soaked in blood instead. The watchdogs maintain the big clans’ grip and make the clansmen beneath them suffer in sand and drought.” Iron Axe’s tone was even, almost detached. “That’s a short-sighted arrangement.”
“If a northerner told me this, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Thuram shook his head, and there was something in it that was almost grief. “But you, Iron Axe—you grew up in this desert. How can you speak this way? Did you forget that the oasis is finite? That it cannot support the population if clans stop competing for territory? Unless Mojins can overpower Graycastle, we cannot leave the desert. Submission ends in betrayal—the northerners will never truly trust us. The Black Bone and Sandstone clans proved it. They served Garcia, the Queen of Clearwater. They were given a strange pill, and everything they were promised dissolved with them.”
“Can real trust never be earned?” Iron Axe exhaled slowly. “I once thought not. But what I’ve seen tells me that certain people are born to break the pattern.”
Outside, hoofbeats gathered—sparse at first, then multiplying, a drumbeat building beneath the wind. The watchdog’s counter-attack was assembling. Thuram knew the sound. Even broken and scattered, the watchdog’s warriors hadn’t forgotten their skills: any threat that emerged within range of the oasis, they would ride toward it like sandworms following vibration. He began to warn Iron Axe—
Iron Axe took him by the collar and pulled him to the window.
The torches were moving. Not toward the tavern. Away from it—out into the desert, toward the sound of the cannons. The watchdog cavalry had picked up the artillery battalion’s position and was riding for it.
Iron Axe watched them go without concern. The dark-haired woman watched them go without moving.
“What did I tell you?” Iron Axe said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. “Not everyone accepts the new order willingly. The watchdogs believed they could stop the thunder.” He turned his eyes from the window and let them settle on Thuram. “But whether you accept it or not—it is coming.”
Chapter 746: A Burning Night
Translator: Transn Editor: Meh
The light from the explosion flashed like a firefly in the night.
Van’er raised his telescope and looked toward the oasis.
The burning torches became the best way to find their targets. The torches became more intensive the closer they were to Iron Sand City. Thousands of flashing flames clearly illuminated the camp of Sand Nation, which was the main target of the artillery battalion.
After a while, the sound of a large explosion came from the depths of the oasis.
“The landing locations seem a bit unorganized,” muttered Cat’s Claw who was also observing.
“That’s the best we could do. You know, it’s difficult to set the cannon on the sand so we can only use the first shots as tests.” Jop replied while loading the shell into the barrel for the next firing.
“Anyway, try to shoot further. If the shell falls on the head of His Excellency Iron Axe, we’ll be done for.”
“Rest assured. The tavern is far from the camp. If we hit it by mistake, the shooting manuals written by the sages should be rewritten.” Rodney tightened the firing rope and shouted, “Ready!”
“Fire!” Van’er nodded.
The two Longsong Cannons fired again with deafening roars. Flames that escaped from the muzzle briefly lit up the ground in front of them and raised
enough dust to hit them on their faces, causing the crowd to shut their eyes.
The small oasis was not really a town. It was merely a fortress formed by the clans outside Iron Sand City. None of the houses were made of brick and stone, and most of them were just tents of leather and cloth except some small buildings and watch towers.
Therefore, the damage from the Longsong Cannons was surprisingly good.
Van’er noticed that no matter where the shell landed, the area would be dark for a second but soon light up again. The explosion knocked over tents and torches, and then the oil of torches mixed with other flammable building material, forming more dazzling flames.
This was the first time the artillery battalion of First Army had to use the method of measuring distances and arranging artillery positions according to the firing table. The result could not be described as ideal, but fortunately, the vulnerable and flammable targets made up for this flaw. After several rounds of shooting, the camp of the Sand Nation had been lit into a large fire, while several bright flames were spreading with the help of the roaring evening wind. It was going to ignite the entire oasis. Though he was not experiencing the power of artillery first hand, Van’er could imagine exactly what sort of predicament the so-called watchdogs were now in.
Overwhelming and unavoidable, this was the Lord of War praised by His Majesty.
Praise the cannon!
Praise the large-caliber cannon!
He proudly glanced at the Gun Battalion, lying in ambush, and the machine gun squads on both sides and once again felt fortunate that he had made the right choice.
The future of warfare would be dominated by cannons. As for flintlocks… they would only be suitable for supporting the cannons or clearing the battlefield, but nothing more.
…
It was after quite a while before Thuram recovered from the earth-shattering explosions. Until now, his ears had been buzzing, as if he had been slapped in his face.
Was that the thunder that Iron Axe had mentioned?
After deep thunder and sharp howls, a watch tower not far from the tavern was suddenly engulfed by a fireball and the whole tower split into pieces within seconds. At the same time, the roar of the explosion caused his ears to lose hearing for a moment.
Through the smashed holes in the wall, he saw many tents were ignited by the splashing bonfire and then became even larger bonfires. People screamed and ran out of the fire, rolling, and struggling on the ground in an attempt to quench the flames. Unfortunately, few of them were lucky enough to do that.
Some of the sand people near the watch tower fell down unconscious. They were not fatally injured, but they could never stand up again.
Damn, this was not thunder, but heavenly fire falling into the mortal world!
Only the Heavenly Father could have such a terrible power.
Thuram thought such a violent attack would not last long, but he soon found himself to be wrong.
He heard the sound of thunder every couple of minutes which was then followed by fireballs and explosions. He also noticed that the fireballs were scattered at the very beginning, but soon concentrated on the center of the oasis. That was where the watchdogs lived. Different from the vassal clans, the watchdogs occupied the most fertile land in the oasis.
However, at the moment, it had become a hell.
A fire raged as if the sky was burning.
He looked at Iron Axe differently now.
“By the name of Three Gods… you do not have such strength!” Thuram asked with a husky and trembling voice, “Who did you submit to? Those northerners?”
“A merciful king,” Iron Axe replied, “he’ll bring order and safety to the Ironsand people of the Mojin Clan.”
“This is imposs…” He subconsciously wanted to say “impossible”, but when he saw the sea of fire spreading throughout the oasis, the last syllable got caught in his throat and could not be uttered.
“Unfortunately, not all people are willing to accept such a system. The oasis feeds the Sand Nation, but at the same time imprisons their thoughts. Killing and framing came from fighting for survival. How ironic that the oasis, that should support life, is soaked with blood. As for the watchdogs, the large clans keep them in power and make our clansmen suffer in sand and drought. I have to say, that’s a stupid and short-sighted thing to do.”
“If these words were spoken by the northerners, I would not be surprised, but by you, Iron Axe…” Thuram shook his head painfully. “As a mixed-blood grown up in the desert, how can you be so naive? Did you forget that the oasis is limited and can’t support the growing population if we don’t fight for the territories? Unless Mojins are able to overpower Graycastle, we can’t leave the desert. Cooperation and submission will end up in death as the northerners will never really trust us. The fall of the Black Bone and Sandstone Clans is the proof of that!”
In order to receive rich territory, these two clans ,which should have the opportunity to live in Iron Sand City, chose to offer their service to Garcia, Queen of Clearwater. What did they get? It was understood that everyone was fed a strange pill and eventually turned into rotten flesh and the Queen’s promise became meaningless.
“Can we never gain real trust?” Iron Axe said with a slight sigh, “I used to think so, but the evidence that I have seen tell me that some people are born to break routine.”
Suddenly, Thuram heard a burst of galloping outside the tavern, which became more and more frequent. He knew that the counterattack team of the watchdogs was assembling.
They might lose the courage to fight, but their skills and horsemanship were not lost. As long as any enemies emerged near the oasis, they would go for them like bloodthirsty sandworms. When he was about to remind Iron Axe, he was grabbed by his collar and drawn to the window.
Not far away, he saw more burning torches moving toward the desert outside the oasis.
Apparently, these watchdogs picked up the attackers’ scent.
However, both Iron Axe and the dark-haired Divine Lady were at ease. It seemed that they did not care about this cavalry team.
“What did I say before? Not everyone is happy to accept the new order… The watchdogs thought they can stop the thunder,” the mixed-blood whispered in his ear as if he was pronouncing his fate, “But whether you accept it or not, the new order will come.”