The great powers' warships were gradually transitioning from iron-clad wood to all-iron construction. The British Empire, undisputed master of the world at this moment, had already completed the transition entirely. A third-rate power like Italy was somewhere in the middle, half and half. As for the Four Courts, Longcheng had not been supplying them with materials for very long, and their all-steel warships were still under construction. What sailed the seas were still iron-clad wooden vessels. Had Longcheng not intervened with some persuasion, they might well have sent out the same old wooden ships from decades past. Had that been the case, every power on earth would have come to take a kick at them.
That Italy had taken the initiative to attack the Ming Emperor's navy was partly due to Italian brazenness, of course. But in truth, other nations had been stirring the pot from behind the scenes, dangling small rewards as incentive. The idea was to use Italy's hand to probe the strength of these courts—to weigh what they were made of. If they proved weak, crush them and drive them back where they came from. What gave them the right to come scrapping for scraps? If they showed some real strength, well then, let them and Italy tear each other apart like dogs. We won't get involved. And if they turned out to be exceptionally powerful—ha, impossible!
That was why it had come to this: an Italian squadron attacking the Ming Emperor's small fleet. The result could not quite be called instant collapse, but it amounted to the same thing—the Ming forces had been beaten without landing a single meaningful blow in return. The Ming Emperor, who had been swaggering for years, naturally refused to take this lying down. In all his life, apart from Longcheng—oh, he nearly forgot about the Barbarians, who barely registered anymore—in all his life, apart from Longcheng and the Barbarians, what had he ever feared?
Two hundred thousand troops, aside from the several thousand lost when the fleet was ambushed, poured straight into Italian-held Africa. That was the Ming Emperor for you—stubborn to the bone. The gap between their naval forces was considerable, but on land, that was another matter entirely. You hit my ships; I'll come for your men.
Among the great powers of this era, the British Empire stood in a class of its own, head and shoulders above all others—though at this moment the rebellion in North America had them somewhat stretched and flustered. In the second tier sat the likes of Germany, France, and Tsarist Russia, all formidable. Italy could only be ranked third-tier, hovering somewhere in the middle of that rank. The Four Courts occupied what might be called an exclusive fourth tier—no one weaker existed, yet no one quite matched them either. Their only peers were one another. As for Japan, formerly Asia's sole great power, it was genuinely strong, ranking near the top of the third tier. This was calculated across multiple dimensions, of course—industrial capacity, output, population, and so forth. In actual combat, who would prove stronger or weaker was another question entirely.
"General, we've located the Italian devils' position!"
"How many men?"
"About ten thousand—looks like what they call a division."
"We've got thirty thousand. Let's tear into them!"
"Sir, they have firearms."
"So do we now, don't we? No need to be afraid!"
A few hours later, as dusk fell, the general led his men to the outskirts of the town. Before long they heard gunshots, shouts, and the clash of battle from the other side. They waited roughly twenty minutes, judging that the enemy's soldiers would by now be concentrated facing the frontal assault led by the deputy general. He glanced at the watch on his wrist—twenty minutes on the dot.
"Brothers, follow me in!"
Several soldiers who had crept up close clutched lit powder charges and rushed toward the wooden perimeter wall, which stood over two meters high. With a thunderous boom, it burst apart. Several sections of the wall were blown open in quick succession, and the troops surged through like a tide. This was the consequence of Italy having occupied the place so long that complacency had set in. Otherwise, how could any ordinary garrison allow men to creep up that close? Soldiers in this era were sloppy, but they shouldn't have been this sloppy. What was the difference between this kind of negligence and the rotten guard-post soldiers of the old imperial days?
After the fighting was done, the Ming Emperor's side had lost several hundred men, while the Italian division of ten thousand had suffered roughly two thousand casualties, with the remainder taken prisoner—including the divisional commander.
"Brothers, today we feast!"
"But keep these men well looked after—don't let any of them die. Longcheng is paying five hundred yuan apiece! By court standards, that's five taels of silver. Sell this lot and there'll be rewards from above—everyone gets a share of the benefit!"
Over the past few years, Longcheng's banks had spread across the length and breadth of the land, and people in the major cities had taken to using paper notes and silver interchangeably—and the more they used the notes, the more they preferred them. The general was a senior official, a second-rank dignitary. In the old days he would have been deferential even to a fifth-rank civil servant. But war had come again, and the status of military officers had gradually risen along with it, and his own bearing had grown ever more upright. A man of his rank and standing naturally made regular use of Longcheng's paper currency, and naturally he understood its advantages well.