Chapter 221: Pursuit

The niru commander across the way stared at the battle unfolding at the bridgehead and along the riverbank, dumbstruck and speechless. His own warriors were toppling one after another into pools of blood, yet they could not advance a single inch. Masses of archers scurried about like headless flies, loosing arrows wildly, all the while howling and shrieking.

Ming firearms were actually this deadly — not only did they not burst their barrels, their armor-piercing power was extreme, and they could keep firing without pause even in freezing wind? Everything before his eyes far exceeded that niru commander’s expectations. He listened as volley after volley of Ming gunfire rang out from the opposite side; with every flash of flame, another of his warriors screamed and was blasted to the ground.

Watching his warriors topple one by one, the niru commander felt as though a knife were carving into his heart. It was over — his two companies were finished. In just this short span of time, the two companies had suffered over half their strength in casualties. Heaven only knew how desperately hard it was to replenish the warriors in his companies. These soldiers had once followed him as they rampaged across the lands of the Great Ming, and now they were being squandered senselessly at this nameless little bridge.

The niru commander gripped his horse’s reins with all his might. He desperately wanted to send two more companies pressing forward, to show those Ming men on the other side that the warriors of the Great Qing’s Bordered Red Banner were not to be trifled with! But reason told him he could not do so. The terrain limited him; he could not deploy his troops. This piecemeal, drip-feed tactic would only add to his own army’s casualties.

The Qing soldiers behind him also stared blankly at the battle ahead. Banner warriors kept falling, yet they could never close within forty paces of the bridgehead. Those mere few dozen paces seemed to be a forbidden zone of death. The Ming firearms on the other side were the voice of the Death God himself. Every flash of flame, every plume of smoke that rose, mercilessly reaped the lives of their banner brothers of former days.

The irony was that they still seemed not to have seen any Ming casualties on the other side.

The enormous disparity made the Qing soldiers behind him reveal looks of shock. Many faces turned pale, saturated with fear, utterly devoid of their former arrogance and swagger.

This niru commander had brought six companies. He had already sent two forward. The remaining company commanders all kept absolutely silent, terrified that the niru commander might notice them and send them forward to their deaths.

…

While the niru commander was locked in fierce internal struggle, the fighting at the bridgehead and the beacon tower continued.

At the beacon tower, a guard standing to the right of Vice Squad Commander Huang Wei steadied his arquebus firmly on the crenellations, aligned the front sight with the rear aperture, and took aim at a Tartar archer dashing left and right, trying to charge up the gentle slope. This Tartar was running in a zigzag pattern; the brothers on the beacon tower had aimed at him several times but failed to hit him.

“Interesting!”

The guard muttered to himself while tracking his target even more closely.

He had already discerned the Tartar archer’s running pattern. When the archer leaped high again from behind a rock, the guard decisively pulled the trigger.

With a thunderous boom, the flash pan mechanism flicked open in an instant. The match cord ignited the priming powder inside the pan. A burst of flame flared up, and the guard instinctively shut his eyes.

The priming powder simultaneously ignited the gunpowder inside the barrel. Amid a deafening roar, a violent blast of smoke and fire shot from the muzzle. The guard saw a massive mist of blood erupt from the Tartar archer’s chest. Then the archer toppled backward, tumbling several zhang down into the river, dyeing that stretch of water crimson.

The arquebus’s recoil was no small matter. The guard saw that his shot had drifted slightly off, but he had still hit his mark. A cloud of gunpowder smoke billowed before him, exceptionally acrid in the crisp, cold air. The guard inhaled it with intoxicated relish and let out a long breath. “Satisfying!”

A whistle sounded — it came from a guard to Vice Squad Commander Huang Wei’s left. He raised a thumb toward the shooter. “Brother Liu, fine marksmanship!”

Huang Wei also cast a satisfied glance at that guard.

The guard replied with restrained modesty, “You flatter me, brother.”

Even as he spoke, he deftly drew his ramrod and began the motion of cleaning the bore.

“That’s about enough.”

Vice Squad Commander Huang Wei spoke quietly. The Tartar troops attacking from this side of the river had suffered over half their strength in casualties. The remaining Tartars, disregarding all military orders, had already turned and fled back.

Looking again at the main body of the Tartar force, they seemed to have no intention of sending reinforcements either.

Suddenly, the guard on his left shouted, “Two Tartar soldiers are heading toward the bridge over there.”

Huang Wei looked carefully. Indeed — a burly Tartar soldier with a black tassel on his helmet, a back-banner strapped behind him, and what seemed to be three layers of heavy armor was staggering as he lunged toward the bridge. In his hand he carried an enormous half-moon short-handled axe. Beside him followed another Tartar, similarly clad in heavy armor, gripping a thick, heavy chopping blade.

So it was this company’s Tartar commander, the company commander. Huang Wei was somewhat surprised, and surmised that the man beside him must be his personal bondservant.

Both men were drenched in blood and seemed to have been struck by musket balls, but they were shouting and bellowing — they had gone berserk. Casting all caution aside, they merely clutched their weapons and charged furiously up the stone bridge.

The terrain here was open, so a few fish slipping through the net was inevitable. Huang Wei was not worried. He sneered, “They’ve gone to a good place. I imagine the sword-and-shield brothers guarding the bridge have long since grown impatient from waiting?”

…

Guarding the right side of the stone bridge were precisely this company’s sword-and-shield armored troops. Their Squad Commander watched as the arquebusier brothers had all the fun, while he himself stood to the side, staring helplessly. Growing anxious, he suddenly spotted two Tartar soldiers charging over and could not help but rejoice. “Finally, our wait is over.”

With a single shouted command, one file of soldiers immediately followed him to meet the company commander, while the other file of soldiers met the bondservant.

“Kill!”

They charged forward in a line from left and right. Head-on, at least three sword-and-shield men engaged them, while two more sword-and-shield men flanked and guarded. Borrowing the momentum of charging down the slope, a blade flashed — the bondservant’s right hand was sheared off at the elbow. The file leader let out a great shout, and his long blade, carried by the wind, cleaved through the heavy armor on the bondservant’s left side and bit deep into his chest and waist.

Then several blades hacked wildly at his body. Amid roars of fury, the bondservant was unwillingly chopped to the ground.

Several sword-and-shield men rushed before the company commander. The company commander glared, eyes wide, and with a thunderous roar brought his half-moon short-handled axe crashing down onto a large shield before him. Amid a tremendous crash, the shield shattered. His great axe, carrying terrifying force, seemed to split the iron armor of the sword-and-shield man behind the shield.

At the same moment, several blades struck his body. This company commander wore three layers of armor and truly seemed impervious to blade and spear. Yet one blade chopped heavily onto his shoulder, and the sound of shattering bone was clearly audible. Already struck by a musket ball, the company commander could hold out no longer. His hand released its grip, and he was pressed to his knees by the long blades.

His face was covered in blood and grime, like a ferocious ghost. He roared incessantly from his mouth, glaring hatefully at the several Ming soldiers surrounding him. It was plainly visible that his abdomen had been hit by a ball, and a tangle of intestines spilled from the wound. For this fellow to have held on until now — he was truly fierce.

The Squad Commander gave a cold snort. He strode over, and the long blade in his hand swept down violently. The company commander’s head tumbled to the ground. Blood sprayed from his neck, and his headless corpse twisted unwillingly before crashing heavily face-down.

The Squad Commander licked his dry lower lip and said regretfully, “Too few Tartars came — not satisfying at all.”

He looked toward the sword-and-shield man whose chest armor had been split open by the axe. “Brother Qi, are you all right?”

That sword-and-shield man replied, “I’m fine.”

He touched his own chest, his heart still pounding with lingering fear. The company commander’s sharp axe had shattered his large shield and then split open his iron armor. Fortunately, its force had been spent; otherwise, he would certainly have been ripped open from chest to belly. Even so, that heavy blow had left him extremely uncomfortable, his chest throbbing with dull pain.

Thinking of this, he cast a hateful glance at the company commander’s corpse.

The Squad Commander surveyed the scene by the riverbank — Tartar corpses lying every which way, some wounded Tartar soldiers still alive crawling chaotically along the bank, while the remaining Tartar troops had already fled. Nor was there any sign of Tartar reinforcements. It seemed this battle was over.

He was about to say something when he suddenly heard the sound of hoofbeats behind him. It seemed a large body of warhorses was heading this way. He laughed heartily. “The cavalry brothers have come in pursuit.”

…

The niru commander on this side of the bridge could not bring himself to make a decision — whether to send reinforcements or to retreat. By this point, whether the Qing soldiers attacking across the bridge or those attacking from the riverbank, the remaining troops were all fleeing back in shrieking terror.

The niru commander also saw the company commander who had been directing the assault on the stone bridge furiously cut down a retreating archer, then lead his personal bondservants as they charged, bellowing, onto the bridge. Their feet trod upon the caltrops strewn across the bridge surface; the sharp iron spikes pierced their flesh, yet they still staggered forward. Without question, they were all shot dead by volley fire on the bridge.

The two assaulting companies had suffered over half their strength in casualties. Both company commanders had died in battle. The niru commander felt a pain that cut to his very core. He finally made his resolve: retreat, and bypass this place. He could not afford to lose the warriors in his unit.

Just at that moment, the niru commander suddenly saw a great cloud of dust rise behind the stone bridge, and then heard the dense clatter of iron-shod hooves. He had no idea how many men were coming.

The niru commander froze for a long moment, then exclaimed in alarm, “It’s a trap!”

It dawned on him — the Ming army had used that small force at the stone bridge as bait, while the bulk of their troops lay in ambush all around, waiting until his own momentum was spent before springing their hidden forces. How vicious! Fortunately, he had been astute and detected the enemy’s scheme in time.

Looking around, he saw that all his soldiers wore expressions of panic and dread; clearly, they had not the slightest will to fight. He made an immediate decision. “Withdraw! Return to Tongzhou.”

At once, the Qing soldiers on the official road all leaped onto their horses and fled back at a gallop. They paid no heed even to the routed soldiers who ran too slowly, let alone the bodies of their fallen warriors or the wounded. Compared to when they had come — banners bright, martial might imposing — now they scurried away like dogs who had lost their masters, banners tilting and toppling, all their fearsome prestige utterly gone.

…

The arquebusiers guarding the stone bridge, seeing the Tartar troops flee in such wretched disarray, all burst into cheers and wild whoops.

One Squad Commander shouted, “The Tartar troops are nothing special. I thought they had three heads and six arms!”

Tian Qiming also laughed heartily. With the Qing troops routed, he, as the Squad Commander defending the bridge, had rendered no small merit. Just the Tartar soldiers killed or wounded before the bridgehead and beneath the embankment were numerous. Once these military merits were reported, he would at the very least become a squad commander in the future.

Hearing the dust cloud behind him drawing nearer and nearer, Tian Qiming shouted, “Brothers, clear the way! Make a path for our cavalry brothers!”

Dust and smoke rolled right up before their eyes. Several hundred Shunxiang Fort cavalry came galloping along the official road. Their attire was no different from that of the musket soldiers; the only distinction was the gleaming sabers and lances filling their hands, with their muskets slung across their backs.

At the very front of the mounted column, Squad Commander Li Guangheng urged his horse ahead of everyone. His horsemanship was superb, and in his hands he held a large lance forged from fine iron. He was powerfully built, yet he held the heavy lance with no effort at all. Behind him were four standard-bearers carrying the great banners of the horse troop, followed closely by eight bodyguards spurring their mounts tight behind. After them came the troop officers and squad leaders of each unit, all with command flags stuck into their backs. Shunxiang Fort's colors favored red, and a vast expanse of fiery red banners streamed and danced.

Several hundred cavalry came rolling in. Led by Li Guangheng, they nodded in salute to the brothers guarding the bridge. Amid a wave of cheers, they charged down from the slope on the right side of the official road into the riverbed, then climbed up the far bank back onto the official road. The several hundred cavalry raced off in hot pursuit of the fleeing Qing routed horsemen.