Chapter 116: Exploding Your Blossoming Peach Flowers

As a special forces military medic, Chu Yun was naturally extremely skilled in covert operations. Even under the surveillance of 21st-century technologies like searchlights, cameras, and thermal radar, he could infiltrate enemy camps and complete reconnaissance missions.

In this backward Bronze Age civilization, sneaking into the enemy camp to gather intelligence was far too simple. Before long, he had thoroughly assessed the situation of the three-thousand-strong army of the Shamanic Sect, learning about their supplies, weapons, stables, and other facilities. He had mapped out the entire camp’s layout.

Having gathered all this information, Chu Yun prepared to return, but by chance, he arrived near the general’s tent. Inside, the shamans were consulting with several commanding generals, discussing how to deal with him.

Chu Yun listened in on their conversation. The Shamanic Sect was furious and surprised that he had managed to seize so much grain and provisions. They considered cutting off the water supply to Chu Family Town, but someone familiar with the town explained that its underground water was abundant—digging wells would suffice—so they abandoned that plan.

Next, they contemplated a fire attack, but after much discussion, that idea was also dismissed. With both poisoning the water and fire attacks off the table, they then threatened Chu Family Town: if Chu Yun was not handed over, they would secretly poison the entire population, causing mass casualties.

Hearing this, Chu Yun feared exposure and stopped eavesdropping on their plans. Besides, after listening for a while, he realized that no matter how sinister or clever their schemes were, they were useless because their actions wouldn’t commence until dawn.

Yet Chu Yun planned to send them fleeing before then.

Silently departing the enemy camp, he made his way to the spot where his horses were tethered along with his bombs. Using a stick, he sketched the layout of the enemy camp in the dirt. To ensure the greatest chance of success for his bombing plan, he used a branch as a scale and drew the camp’s layout clearly and precisely.

He then calculated the time needed for the bombing run on horseback, the escape route afterward, and considered potential obstacles. It took him nearly half an hour before he finalized the route and the bombing strategy.

Mounting a horse with bombs strapped to its back, Chu Yun charged straight toward the enemy stables. Less than five hundred meters away, a galloping horse covered the distance in mere seconds. Though the pounding hooves awakened the enemy soldiers, they were just rising when Chu Yun had already reached the stable area.

Slowing his horse, he lit a fuse on one of the bombs and hurled it toward the side of the camp with fewer tents.

Boom! Boom!

The explosions roared like thunderclaps, deafening and earth-shaking.

The horses in the stable couldn’t withstand such a shock. Three hundred horses, driven mad by fear, reared up and galloped forward with all their might.

The makeshift stable could not bear the combined force of three hundred horses pulling and pushing simultaneously—it collapsed instantly.

Like a massive flood of energy, the horses dragged the shattered stable as they thundered ahead, leaving devastation in their wake.

Because the bomb landed on the side with fewer tents, the panicked horses charged toward the denser tent area.

Screams pierced the air as countless soldiers were crushed underfoot.

Some soldiers, still awakening, had no time to react before being trampled to death.

Others, lucky enough to avoid the initial charge, were knocked down by collapsing stables and tents dragged along behind the horses.

Some died on the spot; others suffered broken limbs and grievous injuries, bleeding profusely, caught between life and death.

Chu Yun couldn't help but laugh at the havoc wreaked by those three hundred horses.

“Not bad at all—just one bomb nearly wiped out the entire enemy camp,” he said with satisfaction.

Yet he did not become complacent; the battle was far from over.

Mounting his horse again, holding more bombs, he hurled them toward where enemy soldiers were gathered.

His horse, accustomed to the explosive blasts—having been tethered before previous detonations—was less startled, allowing him to throw six bombs consecutively into crowded areas.

The final bomb was thrown directly among the Shamanic Sect’s leaders: the chief medical officer Chen Hua, the envoy Huang Tiangui, and the commanding general, all of whom were instantly obliterated.

Each bomb burst forth towering flames. Thanks to Chu Yun’s potent gunpowder, every explosion killed dozens, sometimes hundreds, of soldiers.

After casting the last bomb, Chu Yun spurred his horse toward Chu Family Town and climbed a nearby hill to survey the battlefield.

From this vantage point, he saw the devastation wrought by the first bomb alone—an utter ruin that claimed at least a thousand lives.

Though the subsequent nine bombs killed fewer, the terror had gripped the remaining soldiers, who were now fleeing northward in panic.

They had never witnessed such destructive power. Many had seen comrades shredded in an instant, flesh and blood splattered everywhere, and some were even struck by flying body parts.

Fear overwhelmed them, fearing that a slower escape would mean a nameless death.

Despite being three kilometers away, Chu Yun could still hear their frantic screams.

Ten bombs had shattered the three-thousand-strong army, turning them into a routed force.

His bombing plan had been a complete success.

This battle—he had won.