435.

  Two capital ships closed in, cutting through the current.

  Their prows brushed past; when the hulls met side-to-side, the impact transmitted through both ships.

  Wood and iron locked together, a dull vibration rippling across the frames.

  Everyone on deck was thrown off balance at once.

  Grappling hooks flew and bit into the rails.

  Ropes followed; the lines went taut and forcibly drew the ships together.

  What had been two separate hulls on the water became a single tangled mass.

  Waves forced their way into the gap, soaking the decks.

  Through the spray, soldiers rushed at one another.

  Shields rang against the rails.

  Spear points scraped across planking.

  The clash of blades was brief and sharp.

  Beneath it ran the lower sound of flesh being cut.

  On one side, axes came down to sever the hooks.

  On the other, bodies leaned into the ropes to cinch them tighter.

  Between the two rails, water was no longer visible.

  Shoulders and arms filled the space.

  One misstep meant falling straight into the black surface below.

  The fight naturally became a contest of pushing force.

  Even as men fell, their bodies pitched forward.

  Those who went down rolled onto the enemy deck.

  Shouts rebounded and amplified between the hulls.

  Blood ran along the grain of the planks.

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  The hulls lurched again.

  Suspended hooks groaned.

  The two ships, still locked together, meshed even more deeply.

  When the ram struck the opposing ship’s side head-on, a heavy detonation erupted.

  Wood twisted and split; iron bolts tore free in rapid succession.

  The side collapsed inward, planks ripping apart in layers.

  Lake water burst up through the fractures.

  The ram did not stop.

  It drove deeper, biting into the ship’s frame.

  On deck, soldiers were flung upward by the shock and collapsed together.

  Broken planks and shattered rails flew through the air and fell onto the water.

  Water poured instantly through the opening, flooding the compartments.

  The ship listed, losing its center of mass.

  Men and weapons slid in a single direction across the tilted deck.

  The attacking capital ship did not reduce speed.

  It kept pressing forward.

  The struck side could no longer hold.

  It folded inward and failed completely.

  What remained on the surface were splintered timbers, foam, and screams.

  Two ships approached side by side at a fixed interval.

  Archers on both decks raised their bows at once.

  As strings were drawn, a low creak spread from the wood.

  When the command flag dropped, hundreds of strings released simultaneously.

  A rain of arrows rose and briefly blotted the sun.

  Dark points arced and poured toward the opposing ship.

  The air tore in continuous succession.

  The first arrows struck shields with dull impacts.

  Then came the drumming on rails, masts, and deck like heavy rain.

  Arrowheads bored into wood, the vibration spreading through the hull.

  The opposing ship answered immediately.

  Strings released again, arrows flying back along the reverse arc.

  The two streams crossed midair, cutting past one another.

  On deck, soldiers fell in sequence as arrows hit.

  Shield bearers closed the front ranks.

  Behind them, more archers nocked and drew.

  The fire did not break.

  Between sky and water, iron and feathers filled the space.

  The ships continued advancing, trading volleys at close range,

  breath, flesh, and timber being cut away together.

  Sparks climbed the rigging and crept across the hull.

  Oil-soaked planks accepted the flame as if breathing.

  Fire rose in a dull crimson, covering the deck with smoke.

  The smoke lay low, stinging eyes and shortening breath.

  Water buckets overturned.

  Wet cloth was thrown down.

  The fire swallowed the water and flared back to life.

  The mast groaned and bent.

  Ropes burned through, snapping in rapid bursts.

  Flames split the center of the deck and ran.

  Embers clinging to arrow shafts reignited at men’s feet.

  Sparks struck arms and shoulders.

  The smell of burning flesh mixed into the smoke.

  Someone threw himself over the rail.

  Armor like iron fragments cut into the water.

  Others followed, bodies spilling in succession.

  When they hit the surface, foam rose.

  Cold water wrapped around them.

  On deck, the fire grew higher.

  The burning ship slowly listed.

  The blazing sail tore and fell like red cloth.

  From within the hull came the deep sound of collapsing wood.

  On the surface, firelight stretched long.

  Men in the water looked up at the ship.

  The fire held on until the end.

  Thus the battle folded toward its conclusion.

  Residual forces that did not surrender were decisively suppressed by Jin Youliang’s fleet.

  Dozens of ships raised surrender flags and cast their weapons into Poyang Lake.