The Conquest of Jiangdong (4)
A single arrow from Lü Bu turned the Shanyue formation—poised to hurl itself into the battle—into absolute chaos.
Which was only natural, seeing as a chain-reaction collision had just materialized in the middle of their own ranks. And what, exactly, is the most terrifying thing about a chain-reaction collision?
WHAM─!
"WAAAGH!"
The pileup that comes tumbling after, of course. Worse still, this was unfolding on water, where a vessel can't be steered freely—one sluggish reaction and you'd be dragged under to join the drowned ghosts, same as everyone else.
The collisions alone hadn't killed every Shanyue on deck, but sitting immobilized, helpless to do anything but wait for their own side's rescue, is never a good position on a battlefield.
...Of course, the two tower ships that collided first, along with the third that had set off the whole chain reaction, were smashed to kindling.
God, an absolutely staggering number of them must have died.
Every soldier watching the scene stood frozen, mouths hanging open in sheer disbelief.
Friend and foe alike, mind you.
Naturally, I had no choice but to put a question to the woman who'd created this entire situation.
"How did you even think to hit that?"
"Hm? The anchor, you mean?"
At my question, Lü Bu tilted her head for a moment before answering.
"Gut feeling."
"...Gut feeling?"
What was that supposed to mean? That she'd instinctively sensed how to act to kill as many enemies as possible?
I felt a little dazed, but Lü Bu had undeniably performed splendidly, so I kept my voice level.
"Well, either way—good job."
"R-really? Hehe..."
The instant my praise landed, she broke into a giddy, goofy grin. To think a woman capable of smiling so sillily had crippled several ships with a single arrow...
Even having watched it happen with my own two eyes, I still couldn't quite believe it.
"Why did that ship's anchor drop?"
"...It's the anchor! I don't know who's behind it, but the enemy is targeting our anchors!"
The Shanyue weren't entirely without wit, it seemed—they'd figured out what was causing the disasters. One brief look at the tower ship that had first rammed into their ally, and they immediately spotted the anomaly and moved to counter it.
The moment a man who could only be a Shanyue commander bellowed at the top of his lungs, the tribesmen began groaning and straining to haul their anchors—slung carelessly over the outer sides of the hulls—in toward the shelter of the deck.
Right, ancient ships weren't all that big, so anchors could be shifted by sheer manpower. Remembering that modern vessels work theirs with some enormous machine whose name I can't even recall, the march of science suddenly felt truly magnificent.
"Aw. They've already caught on?"
Watching from afar, Lü Bu murmured as she drew her great bow once more.
"Then I'll just kill them before they finish hiding it!"
...
What a brutally simple solution.
TWAAAANG─!
Even with her footing rocking constantly on the currents of the Yangtze, Lü Bu loosed her arrow without a flicker of hesitation, as though the swaying were no trouble at all.
"Guhk—!"
The arrow struck the head of a Shanyue who'd been laboring with his comrade to haul up the anchor, and—
"M-Madness! If you let go of that now, we're—?!"
SPLOOSH!
The anchor, so proud of its heavy weight for pinning ships in place, took the still-intact Shanyue as its new best friend and dove into the river together.
...Talk about rotten luck.
Of course, one anchor dropping didn't produce another jackpot like the initial chain collision.
"Argh! Those bastards dropped their anchor too!"
"Turn hard, now! You want to become river ghosts together?!"
Those ships behind it had eased off the speed a little, you see. The tower ship, already crawling along at a sluggish pace, stood dead in the water the moment its anchor settled, and the vessels trailing behind began splitting left and right like the sea parting before Moses—probably because they knew exactly what fate had befallen their comrades, who'd been gleefully running at full speed until moments ago.
But turn clumsily, and they'd ram their bows straight into another ally. Regrettably, no such disaster materialized—just as Zhou Yu had said, the Shanyue were clearly veterans of naval warfare.
"Tch. Why do they read a situation so fast?"
Lü Bu voiced her disappointment and made to sling her great bow back at her hip.
"Lü Bu, hold on a moment."
"...?"
Just then a clever idea popped into my head, and I stopped her mid-motion.
"Keep shooting. Pin their ships down."
"Hm? Why?"
"Because having your mobility sealed off in battle is a huge deal, that's why."
Never mind that it also creates obstacles they have no choice but to dodge. They clearly knew their way around a ship—time to test just how well they could drive. If they failed to avoid a vessel standing dumbly in the middle of their formation and slammed into it, that would be a jackpot; but even just weaving this way and that to evade one would suit me fine.
Then their formation would naturally unravel, and an unraveling formation meant openings, and openings meant...
KRA-KOOM─!
"AAAAAGH!"
"Hahaha! Dead-on! Let's go, boys—!"
WAAAAAH──!!
...It meant they were hopelessly unprepared for ramming tactics—driving the prow, the naval ram, into an enemy hull. Hadn't I mentioned this just a little while ago? Ancient naval combat, with no cannons to speak of, amounted to loosing a few arrows from a distance, crashing together with a bang, and settling it hand to hand. That was the entire repertoire.
The Shanyue, struck in the flank of their hull, toppled head over heels into the fittings; a few went flying clean over the side to find out firsthand what the bottom of the Yangtze looked like. In a fight where every single instant mattered, leaving a gap that wide could only end one way.
"Kuhk!"
"AAAGH!"
The tribesmen who'd lost their balance and fallen were cut down by our troops pouring over the rails before they could even right themselves.
I spoke to Lü Bu.
"They've hauled nearly all the anchors in. Shoot, fast."
"Got it!"
At my clipped order, Lü Bu began loosing arrows one after another.
"Guhk!"
"Ugh!"
Wow. Look at that marksmanship. She's basically a sniper.
I opened my mouth in astonishment.
"Your aim's gotten even better than before, hasn't it?"
"O-oh? You think? ...Hehe."
Was one compliment really worth getting that thrilled about? At least this side of Lü Bu hadn't changed a bit from the old days.
...
Just then I felt a gaze boring steadily into me from nearby, so I turned my head. And sure enough, there stood Seo Yeo, staring holes through me with a look that plainly wanted something.
...
...
After holding that clear brown gaze for a long moment, I addressed the adjutant beside me in a level voice.
"Sun Quan."
"Y-yes, sir! You called for me!"
"Could you bring me those spears in the barrel over there?"
"Right away!"
Sun Quan, campaigning with me as my aide, snapped to it and hoisted the entire spear-filled barrel clean off the ground, carrying it over single-handedly.
...No, hold on. I'd meant for her to move it together with the soldiers nearby. Why was someone who'd only just come of age that strong? So this was what the blood of that tiger could do.
Having delivered the barrel, Sun Quan set it down with a resounding thump and declared in a bright, energetic voice.
"Heavier than I expected! In any case, your orders have been carried out, my lord!"
"Uh... right. Good work."
Having confirmed this unexpected side of her, I nodded with a dazed expression and drew a spear from the barrel. A weight far more ponderous than any ordinary spear. This was a weapon forged for one person and one person alone.
I eyed the spear—solid enough that you could simply carry it and stab with it—then asked Seo Yeo.
"...You're seriously going to throw this?"
This thing was genuinely heavy, even for a spear. The legions of old Rome... though since this world shared the same era, I suppose I should just say "the Romans." Anyway, they say each Roman legionary carried a heavy throwing javelin, used to hurl at close range just before melee to weigh down enemy shields before charging in. Supposedly, once thrown, the javelin's shaft would bend on impact, making it impossible to reuse and even difficult to pull free. Human ingenuity really is something else. In any case, a javelin that heavy was never meant to be hurled from long range—not the way Seo Yeo was about to.
"Yes. This weight is just right."
Seo Yeo answered my question in her usual placid voice. Taking the spear—a load that even a grown man would struggle to lift one-handed—she settled into her stance for a brief moment, then promptly hurled it at something far away.
SHWOOOONG──!!
What on earth was that sound? It was the whine of a missile in flight. The spear Seo Yeo had just thrown made a noise on an entirely different plane from the ones she'd hurled in the past—back when she'd (borrowed?) the spears of nearby soldiers every time she threw. I couldn't speak to how thrown weapons compared to one another, but a javelin was said to outclass an arrow in both destructive and penetrating power.
CRUNCH─!
The spear, shrieking across the water, smashed straight through the wooden barrier raised to block ranged fire and skewered the man behind it.
...
The man Seo Yeo had targeted dropped where he stood, dead before he hit the deck—not so much as a dying word escaping him.
The outsized ships standing out at intervals through the Shanyue formation... in other words, the officers commanding the surrounding tower ships. That had to be it. Naturally, the flagship directing the nearby vessels was guarded for all it was worth by the Shanyue around it—but all of that meant nothing in the face of this javelin. To counter sniping like this, you'd need either peerless bodyguards or formidable martial prowess of your own. Though at this point, even that looked like a tall order.
...
I stared at the wooden wall that Seo Yeo's throw had blown apart entirely. ...Wasn't that made of some fairly solid timber? With that kind of force behind it, she could probably sink a ship outright just by hurling one into the hull.
The Shanyue spiraled into confusion, as if they couldn't believe their commander had been snuffed out in the blink of an eye.
Well, that direction was finished.
"My lord."
"...Right. Well done."
Seo Yeo was so transparently fishing for praise that, flustered as I was, I gave it to her anyway. The people around me never failed to surpass every expectation. All I could do, as ever, was marvel.