Munitions Empire Chapter 5: Forest Gunfight

A tense stalemate gripped the scene in an instant. The foes seemed clueless on how to assault the carriage effectively and hesitated to squander more arrows, holding their fire.

After cautioning Tang Mo and Roger, Wes went quiet too, likely concealed in shadows, scanning the surroundings.

Occasional eerie insect chirps echoed, along with distant beastly howls. The nighttime woods buzzed far more than daytime, alive with clamor.

As moments dragged on, Old Roger reloaded his rifle and shifted to a better vantage, aiding Tang Mo in watching the carriage's opposite flank.

"Wes?" Spotting a shadowy silhouette at the light's fringe, Tang Mo called out, uncertain if it was ally or enemy, or just hailing his companion.

Suddenly, the initial attacker, axe in hand and face twisted in fury, burst from the gloom straight at Tang Mo, yelling to steel his nerves.

Tang Mo booted the carriage door wide, tweaking his rifle's aim toward the charger. With lamps flickering outside, the interior stayed shrouded from external view.

The axe-wielder, weapon hoisted overhead in his rush, witnessed the door fly open abruptly; embedded arrows snapped off. His advance faltered briefly.

Next came a muzzle flash right before him, a sharp crack by his ear. A heavy thud struck his chest, legs buckled and twisted, body pitching forward uncontrollably.

Target downed, Tang Mo flung the spent rifle rearward and snatched up the spare.

"Bang!" Moments later, another blast erupted beyond the carriage. Hard to tell if Wes fired or a bandit wielded a gun.

"Ah!" From the dark lunged a second bandit, gripping a battered longsword, iron helmet atop his head but torso bare of protection.

"Bang!" No time for mercy—Tang Mo squeezed the trigger anew at the intruder. The bullet sped forth, silencing his bellow into a wail as he crumpled before the carriage, echoing the first idiot's fate.

Old Roger handed Tang Mo the ornate, bespoke K1 rifle meant for Earl Fisheo.

Instantly prepared for a third shot, Tang Mo peered through swirling gunsmoke under the lamp glow, eyes fixed warily on the nearby shadows.

Subtly, the unsettling bug hums and beast cries vanished, plunging all into an ominous hush.

"Hmm..." In the carriage's exterior quiet, a stifled grunt sounded. Tang Mo caught the subtle pierce of a longsword through flesh, grating against bone.

No telling if Wes fell or dispatched a sneaking bandit. Regardless, once the scuffling stopped, the rear stayed still.

Claiming total stillness wasn't accurate. Old Roger, on the far side, fumbled anxiously to jam a paper cartridge into his rifle's breech.

"They're reloading! Charge now!" A commanding shout boomed from the trees—these thugs' chief, no doubt.

Amid his raucous urging, a fresh swordsman advanced. Unlike before, he crept forward warily, without yells or mad dashes.

Tang Mo wasted no opportunity, sighting true and firing offhand.

"Bang!" The jungle reverberated with yet another report, deepening the night's eerie silence. Echoes of the shot rippled through the mountain woods, gradually dying away.

The fired rifle went back to Old Roger, who Tang Mo discovered hadn't managed to charge the prior one, hands shaking too much.

By drilled soldier standards, Old Roger's reload pace lagged badly. This broke the rhythm of nonstop shooting.

Aware that conserving powder made sense only until critical moments, Tang Mo saw no reason to hold back further. He ditched the K1 Quick Gun and drew his ultimate ace from his belt—the world's sole Left-Wheel Handgun.

Though merely a cap-and-ball revolver packing six rounds, in those times nothing rivaled its savage short-range punch.

His ultimate trump card and faithful ally, Tang Mo figured that by the handgun's magazine run dry, Roger ought to have prepped at least three Quick Guns.

At that moment, he managed to squeeze off three additional rounds! Adding the earlier three shots and maybe the one from Wes, the barrage would eliminate no fewer than 13 bandits. That level of firepower was impressive even for merchant guards, enough to make bandits think twice before attacking.

Furthermore, bandit groups numbering 13 were exceptionally uncommon in this age. Should they have twenty members, they would likely scatter right away after seeing half their ranks cut down by nonstop gunfire.

In these times, forces that held firm after losing a third of their troops earned the label of elite armies, so mere mountain bandits surely lacked the resolve to battle on after more than half fell without pulling back.

The bandits had only themselves to fault for striking under cover of night. The short range guaranteed musket precision. In a distant fight, guns from this period were notoriously off-mark, hitting a target perhaps once in every ten tries if fortune smiled.

While Tang Mo ran these figures through his mind, the bandits acted anew. Fueled by desperate hunger or certain that Tang Mo's party lacked ample firearms, two more assailants brandished their blades and rushed forward.

Tang Mo felt no remorse. Now wielding a compact Left-Wheel Handgun, he gained better mobility for the fray.

Yet drawbacks existed; fumes from three rapid discharges were starting to cloud his sight.

Nothing could be done—the era's gunpowder was simply that flawed, and Tang Mo resolved that, surviving this ordeal, he would prioritize developing smokeless powder tech.

Squinting hard, he pierced the acrid white haze laced with sulfur and locked onto the two oncoming bandits. Tall figures both, they exploited the swirling smoke, advancing wordlessly from opposite flanks with weapons ready.

"Bang!" Another sharp crack resounded in the forest as Tang Mo watched the figure under his sights crumple, hands clasped to his chest, via the sight's narrow slot.

When he swung toward the second bandit, Wes burst from the side, gripping a gore-smeared Longsword.

His form was swift, the Longsword lashing out like a viper's strike. From ambush, he slashed the bandit's arm.

Yet the bandit countered with savage power, his Longsword swing compelling Wes—who sought to grapple—to fall back.

Right as Wes withdrew, Tang Mo's pistol barked again, and by sheer chance, the shot tore through the sturdy foe's throat.

Blood erupted in an instant from the severed artery. Clutching futilely at the neck wound, he failed to halt the torrent.

He attempted words but only spewed crimson. As he wheeled toward Tang Mo, his body gave out, crashing down.

Mere seconds earlier concealed in gloom, Wes spotted Tang Mo shoot and figured reloading impossible, so he stepped out for melee, blocking the brute from the carriage.

Never did he dream Tang Mo hid a spare handgun! Post-second blast, he froze, reevaluating the threat posed by the carriage's youth.

What traveler, a mere weapons merchant short on worldly savvy, toted two handguns? Wes had inspected upon entry; the waist bulge suggested one pistol, blind to the second stashed away!

Naturally, he couldn't fathom a revolver for rapid fire. Despite his expertise, ingrained knowledge barred reversal.

As shock gripped him, a shadow-lurking bandit with drawn Longsword slunk near, eyeing a backstab on this outer plump target.

Tang Mo cleared the smoke veiling his view and took it all in. Without hesitation, he lifted his handgun anew, targeted past Wes, and squeezed off another round.

"Bang!" The blast thundered like artillery, jolting Wes' senses. Wide-eyed, he beheld Tang Mo's handgun unleash two shots in a row!

With the report still ringing, the lurking bandit stiffened as if shocked, then folded with a stifled cry. Wes, overwhelmed by the spectacle, stood dazed.

At that moment, six shots echoed from deep inside the woods. Though the bandits were dull-witted, they could tell something was seriously off. The opponents' firepower proved ferocious; this was no typical merchant caravan!

The entire incident had obviously spiraled far past the bandits' simple robbery scheme; the nonstop gunfire felt ghostly and utterly alien in this age.

Who would have dreamed it? The debut real-world deployment of the Left-Wheel Handgun would ignite in some nameless thicket, beneath the midnight shadows...

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This book is officially signed. Recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, rewards... Uh, begging shamelessly for a wave, rolling around cutely...

(Also, apologies... Dragon Spirit got overly hyped and miscounted the bullets, sorry, it's fixed now, please forgive.)