Chapter 269: The Final Battle

Inside the space between the two earthen walls, screaming Qing soldiers were everywhere, most of them fleeing backward like a tide. Especially the Eight Banners Mongol troops following behind — every one of them ran even faster. Some were stunned senseless, shrieking without knowing where to run, or looking for something to hide behind.

"Fire!"

The fourth rank of firelock soldiers had already stepped forward and fired at them. Those fleeing Qing soldiers spurted clouds of blood mist from their chests or backs and stumbled to the ground, dead. The rest tripped and staggered, throwing away their weapons, clutching their heads, wanting only to escape this land of terror a little faster.

But everywhere there were mud sacks and earth baskets, or the corpses of warriors lying crisscross on the ground, and the large pools of severed limbs and fresh blood they kept stepping into — all of it made the ground impossibly hard to cross. Many were tripped and fell, and then countless pairs of boots trampled over them.

Those being trampled screamed at the top of their lungs, struggling to climb up, but the boots kept raining down on their heads and faces, trampling until they could no longer speak, until their heads, faces, and bodies were crushed to pulp.

The five passageways through the first earthen wall were jammed with people — perhaps the human psyche instinctively heads for the main gates. But there were only five gates, and all were blocked by shield carts, and too many Qing soldiers wanted to flee. Every passageway was packed like sardines in a tin; many were crushed or trampled to death alive.

In front of the passageways, many shield carts were overturned by the frantic crowd.

Some more quick-witted Qing soldiers scrambled over the earthen wall. From the Shunxiang Army's side, one could see a dense mass of people scaling the wall. Then shrieks and agonized screams came continuously — clearly the wall-climbing Qing soldiers were falling into the trench below. The trench on that side had not been filled in; the sharp wooden spikes deep inside the trench would give them plenty to suffer.

Watching the routed Qing soldiers, Wang Dou exhaled deeply. He looked toward Han Zhong and Wen Fangliang beside him and said flatly, "Pursue!"

Both men's faces showed excitement. With the clang of metal, each drew his own saber or sword and shouted, "Brothers, follow me and kill the slaves!"

Battle cries rose. Several hundred Shunxiang Army pikemen and saber-and-shield soldiers followed behind the two in pursuit. Seeing them charging densely, the Qing soldiers inside the earthen wall were so terrified they fled blindly, each one howling with a sound barely human, tumbling and crawling just to escape.

Shunxiang soldiers kept catching up to them, hacking with blades and thrusting with spears, killing them one by one on the ground. Some Shunxiang soldiers also tripped in the process. But those Qing soldiers had no will to resist — they either shrieked and fled for their lives, or knelt and begged for mercy. Not a single one dared turn and fight.

Han Zhong, overexcited, stepped onto a pile of blood-drenched, slippery intestines. That mess had already frozen in the bitter cold, as slick as stepping on watermelon rind or banana peel. Han Zhong lunged forward and fell, landing right on top of a Bordered White Banner Qing armored soldier.

That armored soldier, with strength from who knows where, shrieked and flung Han Zhong's body off. As if aided by the gods, he scrambled up and performed a series of hurdle-like leaps, then charged straight over the earthen wall, which for him was a man's height. After he vaulted the wall, a loud crash came from outside — no one knew what had happened.

"Fresh goods, and he runs so fast..."

Han Zhong, helped up by the guards beside him, climbed to his feet somewhat embarrassed and continued leading the pursuit. Soon there were few Qing soldiers left inside the earthen wall. Then large waves of Shunxiang Army soldiers pursued straight out beyond the earthen wall, hunting down those Qing routed troops and driving them to crash into the main formation behind.

Han Zhong and Wen Fangliang pursued and killed. Wang Dou led the firelock soldiers and remained motionless behind the second earthen wall.

The thick smell of gunpowder smoke and blood filled his nostrils. Wang Dou exhaled dense white breath. Looking beyond the wall, the ground between the two earthen walls was covered with Qing corpses in every manner of death — some sprawled on the ground, some draped over mud sacks and earth baskets.

More Qing severed limbs, blasted apart by cannon fire, lay mixed with pools of blood on the ground. Like the Qing corpses, all were rapidly freezing stiff in the bitter winter cold.

Helmets, weapons, and banners were scattered everywhere. Looking at their dense corpses...

"We must have killed over a thousand Tartar soldiers..."

Wang Dou heard the quiet discussion of the officers beside him.

"This wave of slave bandits has suffered considerable losses."

At some point, Lu Xiangsheng had come to Wang Dou's side. His expression was vivid. His personal guard commander Chen An was also beside him, gasping for breath.

They looked farther into the distance. Over there, Wen Fangliang and Han Zhong had already pursued and killed quite far beyond the earthen wall. Those Qing soldiers were routing back like the tide.

"That's about enough. Sound the gongs and recall the troops."

Wang Dou muttered to himself, then said to Lu Xiangsheng, "Lord Viceroy, the slave bandits have suffered a severe setback and will surely be enraged. This humble general believes we must prepare for their retaliatory cannon bombardment..."

This wave of attack consisted of the bulk of one jalan from the Plain White Banner and Bordered White Banner, plus a portion of the Eight Banners Mongol troops. The two White Banner jalan commanders had driven most of their aliha cooha battalion warriors into the earthen wall. At first everything went smoothly; the two and the remaining Qing soldiers were about to enter the space inside the earthen wall.

Then they heard the thunderous roar of cannons and firelocks. While they were still shocked and uncertain, they saw large numbers of warriors from their jalan fleeing back in terror — the Mongol troops in particular were screaming the loudest. They beheaded several deserters but still could not stop the rout.

As more people fled out, they too had no choice but to flee for their lives. After those Shunxiang Army soldiers charged out in pursuit, they collapsed entirely, scrambling over each other to escape to the rear.

About a hundred and several dozen paces beyond their formation, the other two jalan of Manchu and Mongol troops from the two White Banners were arrayed. Seeing them rout back, they showed no mercy. Dense ranks of archers loosed wave after wave of sharp arrows at them — anyone who dared charge their formation was shot down on the spot.

Those routed soldiers came to their senses and fled to both sides. More importantly, from within the Ming formation came the sound of gongs recalling the troops. Only then did this deadly rout slowly come to a halt.

In the main Qing formation two li from the earthen wall, seeing the situation ahead and after hearing the urgent military report, Dodo, Dorgon, and the others were dumbstruck. Dorgon's face twitched uncontrollably. He suddenly burst into unhinged laughter, tears in his eyes: "What a Wang Dou, what a Wang Dou!"

Before the entire army, Dorgon had the heads of the two routed Plain White Banner and Bordered White Banner jalan commanders struck off. Several hundred deserters were also stuffed into sacks and trampled to death under hooves. Looking at the ashen faces of everyone, he said coldly, "Take the Ming Xuan-Da encampment. Kill Wang Dou. This very day!"

Led by Dorgon's woven-gold dragon banner, the dense layers of Qing banners in the main formation advanced, pressing forward to within one li. The two red-barbarian twelve-pounder cannons and two red-barbarian twenty-four-pounder cannons in his formation were even pushed up for close-range bombardment.

Wang Dou could see the Qing formation clearly. He discussed with Lu Xiangsheng and they made their decision: hold the second trench wall firmly, wait for the Qing troops to enter, then concentrate firepower. Inflict maximum casualties on them. See whose blood flowed more, who could hold out to the end.

After the Qing main formation advanced one li, it seemed more troops were shifted to both wings, attacking fiercely like the tide, wave after wave. Moreover, their cannons began firing continuously at the Shunxiang Army's position.

Each wave of several dozen iron balls, large and small, came howling in, each impact like an earthquake shaking the mountains. The two solid earthen walls were constantly smashed and collapsed by iron balls weighing dozens of jin. The mud sacks and earth baskets between them were blasted into the air, dirt flying, mixed with shreds of cloth and splinters of wood.

The churning dust was also mixed with dense clouds of blood mist. Those Qing corpses were constantly lifted by the cannonballs that struck them, severed limbs and fresh blood flying everywhere.

The howling cannonballs kept slamming into the encampment. More and more tents were smashed flat. More war chariots in the core defense line were shattered. The fodder, grain, and supplies inside were damaged. More and more physicians and wounded soldiers became casualties. It seemed no place was safe.

Behind the Shunxiang Army's second earthen wall, besides the ground being piled with mud sacks and earth baskets, during the intervals between Qing cannon fire, the soldiers also frantically dug trenches, carving one after another inside the encampment, and then many soldiers hid inside them. Of course, it still depended on luck — if an iron ball struck you directly, even hiding in a trench would be useless.

The Qing army's two red-barbarian twelve-pounder cannons and two red-barbarian twenty-four-pounder cannons fired continuously, wave after wave. Roughly every three waves they paused for a quarter of an hour to let the barrels cool — clearly the Qing cannoneers over there had someone who knew what he was doing.

The command chariot that served as Lu Xiangsheng's command vehicle had already been smashed to pieces. The observation pole chariot was still standing, but the Shunxiang Army flagman in the crow's nest kept breaking out in cold sweat. If the two war chariots below were hit, falling from a height of several dozen meters, he feared...

Although the earthen walls, mud sacks, earth baskets, and trenches provided cover and casualties among the Shunxiang Army and the Viceroy's Personal Battalion soldiers were not heavy, the psychological pressure was immense. If a howling iron ball struck a man, it would be better to die on the spot.

Wang Dou and Lu Xiangsheng took cover behind the second earthen wall, watching cannonball after cannonball howl overhead, unable to suppress their alarm. What worried them even more was the military situation on both wings — the sounds of battle cries there came one wave after another. They did not know whether Yang Guozhu and Hu Dawei on the wings could hold out under the Qing fierce assault.

At last, the Qing cannons stopped. Wang Dou estimated that each of their cannons had already fired over twenty shots and would need to stop for half a shichen to cool, or else the red-barbarian cannons would burst their barrels.

Wang Dou and Lu Xiangsheng stood up. Before them was a scene of utter devastation. Then they heard the Qing war drums sound. Loud battle cries rose ahead. It seemed all the Qing soldiers on the front were charging, surging toward the Shunxiang Army's defense line wave after wave like the tide.

Looking at the dark mass of humanity ahead, Wang Dou drew a breath. Had Dorgon committed all his forces?

Lu Xiangsheng beside him said quietly, "Guoqin, life and death, survival and ruin — all on this day. It seems the slave bandits wish to destroy us and be content!"

His tone was very calm, his face full of resolve.

Before Wang Dou could speak, the battle cries on both wings grew louder and louder. Suddenly, one of Yang Guozhu's personal guards, drenched in blood, rushed over and reported urgently to Lu Xiangsheng, "Lord Viceroy, General Zhang has already fallen in battle. A large force of slave bandits has poured in. Commander Yang and General Guo are locked in bloody combat with the enemy. Our camp urgently needs reinforcements."

Wang Dou was shocked. "Xuanfu Assistant Regional Commander Zhang Yan has fallen in battle?"

At the same time, Hu Dawei's personal guard commander Hu Zichen also came rushing over urgently and said to Lu Xiangsheng, "Lord Viceroy, a large force of slave bandits has poured in on the right wing. Our camp cannot hold. I beg the Lord Viceroy to send reinforcements at once."

Lu Xiangsheng turned abruptly to Wang Dou and said, "Guoqin, I leave this place to you. I shall personally lead troops to support both wings."

Wang Dou held him back firmly. "Lord Viceroy, this humble general can dispatch part of the forces to reinforce. The Lord Viceroy need not personally venture into danger!"

The dark tide of humanity around the encampment surged forward. A heaven-covering, earth-sheltering roar of crude Chinese rose: "Kill Wang Dou, kill Wang Dou, kill Wang Dou..."