The Fox of France

De Launay lay on the ground, his head ringing like a bell. He tried to get up but found his body limp, devoid of strength. He wanted to call for help, but the people around him were all lying on the ground, immobilized. And to make matters worse, he couldn't even hear his own voice.

"This is a disaster; the gunpowder magazine must have exploded," De Launay thought.

The Bastille's gunpowder storage certainly didn't contain enough explosive material to destroy the entire fortress, but the explosion of even the relatively smaller amount could be catastrophic.

"Damn it, I wonder if the walls have collapsed," De Launay pondered.

After some time, De Launay managed to regain some strength. He struggled to his feet, using a nearby table for support, and staggered to the city wall.

A long crack had appeared in the wall, wide enough to fit a fist. Most of the soldiers on the wall were still lying on the ground, with only a few attempting to climb to their feet, leaning against the battlements.

"What happened? What's going on?" De Launay shouted.

No one answered him, not even a soldier who had managed to stand up. They all gazed at him with puzzled expressions, unable to understand his words. De Launay realized that he couldn't hear his own voice; the explosion had damaged his hearing. In fact, he couldn't even hear himself speak clearly.

De Launay stumbled to the edge of the battlement and peered down.

Not far from the moat, there was a massive crater, and smoke billowed from it. Within a radius of about thirty to forty meters around the crater, all the buildings had been toppled. Even further away, on the streets and the rooftops of buildings that hadn't collapsed yet, people lay scattered.

"What... what is this? Did a meteor fall here?" De Launay's mind entertained such a bizarre thought.

It wasn't a meteor; it was the result of a collision between a large explosive package and a bullet.

Just moments ago, a group of people had arrived in a carriage, claiming to be followers of the Duke of Orleans. They had brought a "new type of explosive" purportedly used for mining.

"We're the Duke of Orleans' men, and this is the mining explosive we use. We've packaged the explosive, attached the fuse, and all we need is a brave soul, a true hero like Enomaie (a character from "Spartacus," who sang the "Slave's Anthem" on the cross). They need to brave the tyrant's bullets and ignite this thing under the city wall. It can blow a whole section of the wall sky-high," declared the person who arrived in the carriage.

"These things can destroy the walls?" someone questioned with disbelief.

"As long as there's enough explosive, even a mountain can be blown to pieces," the carriage driver replied.

At this point, a burly man approached, shouting, "I'll do it, I'll do it," as he reached for one of the explosive packages on the carriage.

"Is this thing too light?" he scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Is there enough gunpowder in here for anything significant?"

"We have explosives inside, much more potent than gunpowder, and it's not that light. There's twelve pounds of explosive in there!" the carriage driver explained.

"Don't be stingy; give me more," the burly man insisted. "Who knows, it might take several of us to get this thing to the wall. If the power isn't enough, placing just one won't suffice, and we'll need to sacrifice even more people. So, the more powerful, the better, the more explosives we pack in, the better. How about we gather everything from these packages into one and send the entire Bastille into the sky at once? What do you say?"

The surrounding people responded in unison.

"Right on!"

"Send them all to the heavens!"

"Let them personally seek forgiveness from God up there!"

The burly man smiled, "All right, my brothers, no need to rehearse lines anymore; we've all got them down. If you have the courage, follow me. If I go down before reaching the city wall, you can take the explosive and torch from my hands and continue the fight in my place. Any objections?"

"None!" the scruffy-looking guy yelled loudly.

"Excellent! Let's go!" the burly man declared.

"Wait! Wait!" the carriage driver suddenly shouted. "You can't just charge in like that; you need cover. Let's get a few more people from different angles to distract the guards' attention. Others can start shooting at the Bastille to provide cover for them."

"Hey, your idea is good!" everyone shouted together. "Let's do it this way!"

"I'm charging too!"

"Give me a fake explosive; I can divert their attention as well!"

So, the militia began firing randomly at the Bastille, and a dozen people charged toward it.

The guards on the city wall returned fire, and the burly man, being a big target, had several rifles aimed at him. However, he ran so fast that bullets narrowly missed him, hitting behind him instead. The scruffy guy following him was not as lucky; he was struck by a stray bullet.

"Big guy, keep going!" the scruffy guy shouted as he fell.

But by then, the burly man had reached the moat and needed to slow down to jump safely. Just as he slowed down, a rifled shotgun was aimed at him.

"Bang!" The shotgun fired. In the Swiss soldier's eyes, the towering burly man resembled a large brown bear from the Alps. He expected that his shot would make the burly man fall over like the bears he had shot before, possibly even rolling a couple of times.

However, much to his surprise, the bear didn't fall over but exploded.

Yes, the bullet he fired hit the explosive package the burly man was carrying.

The explosive's tremendous power was unleashed in an instant. A massive visible shockwave swept through the area, and those who had been close to the burly man were torn to shreds and scattered in an instant. Following the shockwave, the surrounding buildings, in the face of the powerful explosion, were dismantled as if they were card structures facing a super typhoon. When the shockwave reached them, the buildings were immediately shattered into fragments that scattered in all directions.

Next, this shockwave violently slammed into the Bastille's city wall. The massive wall shook violently, like a small boat in a stormy sea.

The soldiers standing on the wall were quickly overturned by the shockwave and were then stunned by the ensuing explosion.

If, at that moment, another group of militia warriors had charged forward, they could have easily cut the iron chains holding the drawbridge, smashed the gate, and entered the Bastille. However, the militia's condition was even worse than that of the defenders because they were closer to the explosion. They suffered greater casualties, and the buildings destroyed by the shockwave concealed militia members behind them. After the explosion, most of them were no longer standing.

Even those militia fighters further away had been shaken to their senses, making them unfit for immediate action. As for those even farther away, they had no idea what had just happened. The militia lacked a clear command structure, and at that moment, they were in disarray, with no thought of seizing the opportunity. Consequently, the chance slipped through their fingers.

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