Chapter 476: Savage Bombardment

The Ming army's movements were being watched with grave attention — whether by Huang Taiji at the Rushan Fortress, or by the Qing forces on Songshan Ridge and Huangtu Ridge.

Atop Songshan Ridge stood a tall hollow watchtower, and surrounding it were dense Qing encampments, deep trenches, and high walls. The banners flying over the mountain were all blue, or blue bordered with red.

On the watchtower, two enormous gold-threaded dragon banners were planted. Beneath them stood, respectively, the Bordered Blue Banner Lord of the Eight Banners Manchu, Prince Zheng Jirgalang, and the Plain Blue Banner Lord, Prince Su Hooge. Hooge's gold-threaded dragon banner in particular was a princely three-pointed dragon banner with a three-ridged flaming silver top — extraordinarily magnificent.

Behind the two men stood the Bayara Banner Commanders of their respective banners, each in command of the banner's most elite Bayara warriors, charged with guarding the great dragon banners. A large number of other banner officers — Meiren-i Janggin, Jalan-i Ejen, and the like — also stood solemnly, all following the two princes' gaze toward the Ming army's positions.

Around the watchtower were arrayed the two banners' finest Bayara warriors, every man in bright helmet and bright armor, their fine armor plates exposed, all exceptionally thick and solid. On their chests and backs were huge protective bronze mirrors, and on their backs were thrust dazzling red-tasseled flame-bordered banner flags.

These warriors were all tall and burly, and the weapons they carried were all heavy — heavy swords, great hammers, or long-handled slicing blades. The bows on their backs were all multi-stone heavy bows, capable of piercing heavy armor from several tens of paces away.

They stood vigilantly at their posts, and despite wearing thick, heavy armor in the sweltering heat, they remained motionless where they stood.

Both Jirgalang and Hooge had spyglasses bestowed by Huang Taiji. Through the spyglasses, they could clearly see that the Ming army's artillery camp was about to commence bombardment against the defenders of Huangtu Ridge.

Lowering his spyglass, Hooge said displeased, "Prince Zheng, why did you stop me from leading my braves out to strike? Look at the Ming army's formation."

He pointed to the distant base of the mountain. At the Ming army's great formation on the upper left, he said angrily, "If I led several thousand Great Qing iron cavalry to strike from their rear and flank, we could certainly throw the Ming army into chaos and halt their assault on Huangtu Ridge."

Jirgalang patiently and earnestly advised, "Prince Su, Hong Chengchou is cautious in his use of troops. He would not fail to account for this. Look at their right flank — at least tens of thousands of men are guarding it. Moreover, our garrison on Songshan Ridge has always operated as one with the defenders of Huangtu Ridge. We can wait until the Huangtu Ridge defenders send a signal before we strike — there will be time enough. We could also wait until the Ming army is exhausted from attacking the mountain, then strike hard at their flank. The time is far from now."

Hooge snorted coldly. "Far from now? Look, the Ming troops are advancing. The banners they carry — is that Wu Sangui and his men? And so many laborers following behind them — are they digging trenches between Songshan Ridge and Huangtu Ridge? If we don't strike now, their trenches will be finished."

Jirgalang still shook his head. "The ground between Songshan Ridge and Huangtu Ridge is broad. To dig trenches and cut us off — how could it be so easy? Prince Su, let us wait a while longer. When the sun climbs higher and they are utterly exhausted, we will strike, and we will surely achieve a remarkable effect."

No matter what Hooge said, Jirgalang remained cautious and stubborn. Hooge was furious in his heart, but there was nothing he could do.

Although the two banners were both stationed on Songshan Ridge, because of Hooge's rash temperament, Huang Taiji's decree had placed Jirgalang in overall command of strategy on Songshan Ridge. At this time, Qing military discipline was ironclad, and no matter how domineering Hooge was within the Eight Banners, he dared not defy military orders or his father's commands — the consequences would be unthinkable.

Looking at Jirgalang's impervious face, Hooge forcibly suppressed the rage in his heart and raised his spyglass again, peering toward Huangtu Ridge.

Watching the Ming artillery camp finish its deployment, Hooge suddenly felt a surge of schadenfreude. The first line of defense on Huangtu Ridge was mostly manned by Eight Banners Han troops and Korean troops. In his heart he said, "Ha ha, those Han curs and Korean curs are about to get bombed!"

At this moment, on Huangtu Ridge.

On the main ridge stood a watchtower called the East Ridge Tower. The East Ridge Tower was a two-story hollow watchtower, five zhang high and eighteen zhang in circumference, built with arrow windows and crenellations, the entire tower constructed of large stone blocks. ...

Atop the tower, the gold-threaded dragon banners were even more numerous. There were the dragon banners of the Eight Banners Manchu Plain White Banner and the Bordered White Banner, as well as the dragon banners of several Han Banner Gushan Ejen. These dragon banners differed little from the Manchu Banner Lord dragon banners, the only distinction being that the Han banners bore a moon, while the Mongol and Manchu dragon banners had none.

Besides these Qing banners, there was also a tall Taiji banner on the tower — the standard of the Korean Regional Commander. The man leading the troops at this time was Kim Ja-jeom, the Right State Councilor of the Korean State Council.

The Korean State Council was similar to the Great Ming's Grand Secretariat, with one Chief State Councilor and one Left and one Right State Councilor, all of senior first rank. The three great councilors were called the "Three Dukes" or "Three Councilors." After the Manchu subjugation of Korea, the pro-Ming Westerner faction in the Joseon court lost power, and the pro-Qing Luo faction gained ascendancy, its representative figure being this very Right State Councilor Kim Ja-jeom.

As Right State Councilor, with his son-in-law Yi Ji, Prince Heungan, being a great-grandson of King Jungjong and a cousin of Prince Gwanghae, and with Qing support abroad, Kim Ja-jeom held both high rank and great power within Joseon.

For this great battle at Jinzhou, Kim Ja-jeom saw it as an excellent opportunity to demonstrate his loyalty to the Qing, and he volunteered to lead troops here. Under his command were many of Joseon's finest soldiers and strongest generals, including Senior Generals, Vice Generals, Assistant Generals, Senior Commanders, and Vice Commanders.

Similar to the Great Ming, Joseon also held civil officials in esteem and military men in contempt. Soldiers had little status within Joseon. The commanding Senior General Yi In-cheom, though also a first-rank official, was ordered about by Kim Ja-jeom and used like a slave.

Kim Ja-jeom was now around fifty years of age, of refined appearance, wearing the Joseon official robes of a first-rank minister. These official robes were quite similar to those of the Great Ming, but the belt was worn very high, like the skirts of Joseon women.

Beside him stood a number of his domestic advisors, all wearing robes and cotton-soled high-waisted boots, with wide-brimmed hats on their heads, and accompanied by several military officers.

Like all the Joseon officers and officials, Kim Ja-jeom was at this moment extremely anxious, merely gazing into the distance at the Ming army positions below the mountain. He could faintly see that their artillery formation was already set up and about to open fire. And on Huangtu Ridge's first line of defense, there were not a few of his own troops.

Equally anxious were several Gushan Ejen of the Han Banners — men like Plain White Banner Gushan Ejen Shi Tingzhu, Bordered Red Banner Gushan Ejen Liu Zhiyuan, Plain Blue Banner Gushan Ejen Zu Zerun, and Bordered White Banner Gushan Ejen Wu Shoujin.

The Ming army was about to assault the mountain; their own side should be opening fire as well.

But their anxiety was useless, because the men in command of Huangtu Ridge were the Eight Banners Manchu Plain White Banner Lord Dorgon and Bordered White Banner Lord Dodo. Even Beile Abatai, the Bountiful Prince, carried more weight in speech than they did.

Listening to everyone's urgent cries and watching the Ming army below the mountain, Dorgon remained impassive. He merely asked Kong Youde beside him, "Prince Gongshun, how many li can our Great Qing's Divine Might Grand General cannons fire?"

Kong Youde's Plain Red Banner troops were not deployed on Huangtu Ridge, but a portion of his artillery was positioned here. Concerned for his cannons and hearing that the Ming army was attacking Huangtu Ridge, he had hurried over.

Kong Youde glanced at Shi Tingzhu and the others, sneering inwardly. Between him, Shang Kexi, Geng Zhongming, and the other recent defectors to the Qing, and the old defectors like Shi Tingzhu and Ma Guangyuan, there was considerable friction. Within the Han Banners, the struggle between new and old was just as fierce.

Without looking at the twitching, fleshy face of Shi Tingzhu, Kong Youde said, "They can reach four li."

Dorgon's eyes lit up, but then he added, "Can they hit their targets?"

Kong Youde concentrated and thought for a long moment, then shook his head. "Difficult. Within three li, there is some confidence. Beyond that, it is nothing more than blind firing."

Shi Tingzhu said angrily to Kong Youde, "Prince Gongshun, before the battle has even begun, you say there is no confidence — you are boosting the enemy's morale and deflating our own! Will you just watch with open eyes as they fire their cannons and our own brothers get bombed?"

Kong Youde gave a mirthless smile. "Old Shi, beyond three li, the artillery camp has no confidence — that would just be wasting gunpowder and shot!"

Shi Tingzhu was about to say more, but Dorgon waved a hand. "Do not waste gunpowder and cannonballs. Wait until the Ming army enters within three li, then open fire. Our fortifications and walls are sturdy — it will not be so easy for the Ming army to bombard them." ...

Shi Tingzhu had no choice but to say, "Yes."

He shot an angry look at Kong Youde.

Kim Ja-jeom was anxious in his heart, but he still flattered Dorgon, saying, "Prince Rui's foresight spans ten thousand li — these are the words of a seasoned statesman planning for the nation. Fine steel must be used on the blade's edge."

Dorgon laughed heartily. "The Right State Councilor has come a thousand li to aid us — this will surely bring the friendship between the Qing and Joseon courts one step closer."

At this moment, they were all speaking Chinese. The upper class of Joseon took pride in speaking Chinese, and many among the Qing upper class could also speak Chinese — after all, they had formerly been one of the tribes under the Great Ming's rule.

Moreover, the Manchu language was crude and extremely difficult to learn — otherwise, by the middle and late Qing period, it would not have been spoken by so few that it nearly went extinct. Thus, at this time, communication among the Qing's Han, Manchu, and other upper classes, or with Joseon officials and generals, was mostly conducted in Chinese.

Watching Kim Ja-jeom and Dorgon chatting and laughing amiably, Shi Tingzhu muttered under his breath, "Korean cur, bootlicker!"

The Joseon officers and officials behind Kim Ja-jeom heard this and all changed color, but Kim Ja-jeom acted as if nothing had happened, a faint smile on his face, the very picture of refined grace. In his heart, however, he cursed Shi Tingzhu contemptuously: "Barbarian dog, casting off all the robes and caps of China, gold-coin rat-tail queue, arrow-sleeved barbarian garb — a creature of the canine kind, a pigtailed slave!"

Toward the Central Plains, the hearts of the Joseon court and its subjects were complex. Politically, they were forced to submit to the Manchu Qing, but culturally, they were filled with admiration for Han culture.

After the fall of the Ming, the Joseon court and people regarded the subjects of the Qing as slaves of a great state, Qing slaves, dwellers in a land of barbarian captives, while they regarded themselves as the Little Central Efflorescence. Back when Yuan Shikai was dispatched as an envoy to Joseon, he too was cursed as a barbarian dog by Empress Myeongseong, Queen Min.

At this moment, Kim Ja-jeom harbored just such contradictory feelings.

Under Dorgon's forceful restraint, the Qing troops on Huangtu Ridge could only watch with open eyes as the Ming army set up its artillery formation, waiting in uneasy suspense for their fate to arrive.

"The southern barbarians are about to assault the mountain — everyone in this Jalan, look sharp!"

A Jalan Janggin in his forties, wearing fine white armor bordered in red, was patrolling from the Niangniang Temple tower toward the fortress wall, roaring from time to time at the Han and Korean defenders behind the wall.

This Jalan Janggin had a broad, flat face, a collapsed nose, and several scars on his face — his features were quite ugly and fierce. He was none other than Yanzha, the Bordered White Banner Manchu Jalan Janggin who had attacked Shunxiang Fort years ago.

Behind him followed a large group of elite armored horsemen, every one in bright helmet and dark armor, their faces thick with savagery and arrogance.

There were also several Niru Janggin. One of them, gaunt-faced with a pair of rat-whisker mustaches, was Niru Janggin Niugulu, and another was Niru Janggin Ning'erjia.

Their Jalan had suffered heavy losses in the assault on Shunxiang Fort years ago — the Bayara and elite armored horsemen within the Jalan had taken considerable casualties. Although Abatai later attacked Shunxiang Fort and proved that Yanzha's Jalan truly deserved its reputation for martial valor, they had lost troops and officers. Not being punished was already good enough; they could forget about promotion.

In the eleventh year of Chongzhen, when the Qing army invaded, Yan Zha’s jala did not follow them through the pass. The Qing army honored military merit above all; without fighting, one could not earn merit or advance in rank.

So over all these years, Wang Dou had risen from a defensive Squad Commander to Left Regional Commander, a Great Ming Regional Commander, and had been granted the noble title of Loyal and Brave Count — yet this Yan Zha remained a jala commander. Needless to say, Niugulu and Ning Erjia under his jala were still niru janggin.

Fortunately, in this battle of Jinzhou, Yan Zha again marched with the army. After so many years of management, his jala had recovered its former might. Yan Zha’s ambition naturally surged; he wanted to win great merit in the Jinzhou campaign and raise his rank.

Guarding the Niangniang Temple tower sector were, besides the Qing troops of Yan Zha’s jala, a jala of Han Army Plain White Banner and a Korean force of one company commander, totaling about four thousand soldiers. They defended roughly two li of palisade wall and trench.

However, the main wall defenders were the Han Army Plain White Banner and the Korean soldiers. Yan Zha’s jala served as overseers and, once the Ming army breached the palisade, would be used for close combat.

Along the undulating palisade, behind the earthen and stone walls, Han and Korean soldiers armed with bird guns and three-eye guns could constantly be seen. Only a few carried shields and greatswords, bows and spears. Others wielded crossbows, trebuchets, lime-pot bombs, and similar weapons.

The Korean soldiers in particular were the main operators of the trebuchets.

There was also Kong Youde’s Ujen Choo artillery camp, which, following the ridgeline defenses, had placed a number of red-barbarian three-pounder cannons and Frankish swivel guns at advantageous points along the palisade. On the Niangniang Temple tower itself, four red-barbarian three-pounder cannons were deployed.

These soldiers — the Han troops were dressed no differently from the Manchu soldiers. The armored men all wore cotton armor; the armored soldiers of the Han Army Plain White Banner wore uniformly white bright helmets and dark armor.

As for the Korean soldiers, their armor closely resembled Eight Banner armor and Great Ming armor. Their helmet tops were also pointed, much like lightning rods, except the rod on the helmet was three-pronged, while Ming and Qing helmets had a single rod. Of course, Qing armor originated from Ming armor, and both the Qing and the Korean court were deeply influenced by Central Plains culture.

Among these Korean officers and men, higher-ranking officers mostly wore long, bright-red cotton armor, with many iron plates embedded on the shoulders and upper body. The armor plates were densely packed, hanging like medals. Ordinary soldiers wore short cotton armor, also bright red, with only brass studs on the surface and no armor plates inside or out.

Jala Commander Yan Zha made his rounds, assuming the air of a master, shouting and roaring at the Han and Korean troops beside him, occasionally kicking and beating them.

Those beaten and cursed either dared not show their anger or meekly submitted. The Han banner’s bosoku and niru janggin, or the Korean army’s deputy commandants and company commandants, saw it but pretended not to. They had no wish to offend this genuine Tatar chief of the Eight Banners over a few common soldiers.

A Korean soldier was kicked. Furious inside, after Yan Zha swaggered past, he muttered in Korean: “Savages!”

Yan Zha whipped his head around and stared at him unblinkingly. The scar on his face twitched, making him look even more vicious and hideous.

……

In the Ming army’s position, everyone held their breath. The field all around was utterly silent. At last, Hong Chengchou drew a deep breath and said, “Open fire!”

Fu Yingchong responded, “Yes, sir!”

With a wave of his hand, he declared with imposing authority, “Begin ranging shots!”

A gunner lit the fuse of a cannon that fired twelve-jin balls. Everyone watched nervously, all eyes fixed on the vent fuse hissing and sparking.

The fuse sparked and hissed as it burned. Suddenly, a flash burst from the vent, followed by a thunderous roar. The thick muzzle spewed a vast cloud of dense white smoke. Amid the flash, the cannon body shuddered violently, and a large black iron ball shot from the barrel, hurtling swiftly toward the distant Qing position.

For a moment, both the Ming and Qing sides watched the flight path and impact point of this cannonball.

……

Yan Zha’s face was dark. He asked the Korean soldier in Manchu, “What did you just say?”

The armored soldiers behind him also stared at the man with cruel eyes.

The Korean soldier was scared out of his wits. He frantically dropped to his knees, shouting something in Korean while kowtowing repeatedly. Soon his forehead was streaming with blood.

The Korean soldiers nearby watched with grief and indignation on their faces, feeling the sorrow of the fox when the hare dies.

Seeing their expressions, Niru Janggin Niugulu frowned. Noticing the Korean officers looking over with clear displeasure, he stroked his two wisps of rat-like whiskers and urged, “My lord Yan Zha, why lose your temper over a petty slave? The Ming army is about to assault the mountain; harmony should come first…”

Just as he said this, a cannon roared from the Ming position, and a shell came rumbling over. Niugulu shrieked, “The Ming army is firing!”

He hurriedly ducked his body behind a stone wall.

Like wheat bending in the wind, all the Han troops, Korean troops, and Manchu troops on the palisade frantically took cover. Even Jala Commander Yan Zha forgot about the insolent Korean soldier. He nimbly darted behind a stone wall and pressed his body tightly against it.

But the cannonball screamed overhead, passed over the ridge and palisade, and flew toward the downhill slope behind the ridge.

With a boom, it struck a mound of earth on the slope, throwing up a great spray of soil, then tumbled and bounced down the slope, finally stopping motionless in front of a stone house.

Behind this ridge, rows of stone and wooden houses had been built to quarter and shelter the defending troops. Most were occupied by Yan Zha’s men, along with the quarters of many servants and bondservants.

Seeing that the Ming cannon posed no threat, cheers erupted along the palisade.

Jala Commander Yan Zha burst into wild laughter, pointed at the Ming artillery position, and cursed: “Ha! The Han dogs’ cannons are pure bullshit!”

This Ming cannonball greatly boosted the confidence of the defenders at the Niangniang Temple tower. Cheers, jeers, and laughter rose without end. All sorts of songs and chants broke out.

Just as they were celebrating, the Divine Machine Battalion’s artillery array adjusted its elevation and aimed more carefully at the Qing position on Huangtu Ridge.

Fu Yingchong, his face grim, waved his hand again. His central army trumpeters sounded the shrill swan call. Like lightning and thunder, the first wave of cannons from several batteries roared deafeningly. Dense white smoke billowed out in great clouds, blanketing the forward artillery position.

Such a tremendous noise startled the oxen and horses behind the hill into a frenzy of neighing. Even the great Ming formation to the rear stirred in a wave of commotion. Hong Chengchou and those who experienced the cannon’s might at close range felt their hearts pound violently — such was the power of the red-barbarian cannons.

The smiles on the Qing troops at the Niangniang Temple palisade froze as they watched countless huge cannonballs hurtling straight toward them.

“Ah!”

Many screamed at the top of their lungs.

“Boom!”

A large iron ball weighing over ten jin howled in and slammed into a section of the palisade.

This section was a stone wall, merely piled up from rocks, nowhere near as hard as a city wall.

Amid the thunderous crash, the stone wall collapsed with a rumble. Several Korean soldiers sheltering there were instantly buried underneath.

They had been crouching. Stones of all sizes tumbled down onto their heads. They only managed a despairing scream before being crushed into pulp, leaving only muffled thuds, wails, and entrails and blood steadily seeping out from the pile of stones.

Jala Commander Yan Zha sprinted toward the tower. These stone and earthen walls were far too unsafe; inside the tower was better.

He ran nimbly. Though he wore several layers of armor, he still ran very fast. Behind him, the niru janggin and those armored soldiers also ran in terror, following their superiors.

A sharp, piercing whistle came — sounding like a kettle boiling over furiously, so grating that it made one frantic, desperate to plug one’s ears.

Was that sound from the front or the rear? Before Yan Zha could be sure, a thunderous crash — the stone wall behind him suddenly exploded. A great iron ball weighing over twenty jin, carrying overwhelming force, burst through the wall.

In an instant, it smashed several large stones into sharp fragments that swept outward, producing the effect of a crouching-tiger cannon.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud — from the Bordered White Banner armored soldiers behind the officers, sprays of blood mist erupted from their chests, backs, or heads. Even their fine armor could not withstand such a blast of sharp stone shards. Six or seven men toppled on the spot.

Boom! The great iron ball of over twenty jin smashed through the stone wall. The immense impact reduced that entire section of wall to flying rubble. Many who were not struck by the shards were still hit by large stones, sent tumbling like sacks in every posture, all spewing blood from their mouths as the sound of snapping bones filled the air.

Jala Commander Yan Zha was thrown to the ground. A bloody human head lay before him. Its helmet had fallen off, revealing the thin, long queue at the back of the head — a money-rat-tail pigtail. The eyes were wide open, full of terror and disbelief.

Yan Zha found the head somewhat familiar. He thought carefully — wasn’t this Mierqi, the armored soldier famed for ferocity within his own jala?

Beside Mierqi’s head lay a severed arm; no one knew whose it was.

Suddenly Yan Zha felt something wrong on his helmet. He reached up and pulled, yanking off a great tangle of large and small intestines. Whose were they?

A human head and intestines — the widely experienced Jala Commander Yan Zha thought nothing of them. But then he suddenly felt something wrong with his buttocks. Had a chunk of flesh been torn from his rear?

It was nothing. A warrior of the Great Qing, a Jalai Zhangjing of the Eight Banners Manchu, missing a chunk of flesh from his buttocks — what was there to make a fuss about? Even if a little pebble got lodged inside, it mattered not at all.

Again came the shrill sound of swan calls from the Ming army position. Jalai Zhangjing Yanzha jolted as if shocked, leapt up swiftly, and dashed toward the tower platform. The stream of men following behind him was noticeably thinner than before.

He had just returned inside the watchtower when cannon fire shook the heavens, deafening. Round after round of shells came howling in, thunderclap bursts unceasing. The hurtling great iron balls smashed relentlessly into the stone and earthen walls of the defense line. The rumble of collapsing walls never stopped; palisade walls near the Niangniang Temple tower were struck one after another.

These earthen and stone walls were all rather crude. Whenever they were hit, none failed to collapse.

The earthen walls fared slightly better. When a stone wall was struck, it was a disaster. The cannonballs kicked up showers of stone shards that swept across the defending Qing soldiers nearby. Screams of agony, cries of alarm — the Qing troops fell into utter chaos, completely at a loss for what to do.

Especially the Han troops and the Goryeo troops. Before they surrendered to the Qing, they had mostly seen cannon fire bombard the other side. They themselves had rarely been on the receiving end, so they had absolutely no experience in dodging shells. Like ants on a hot pan, they simply scurried in circles, yet felt they could find no safe place anywhere.

Jalai Zhangjing Yanzha was still in shock. He sheltered in a safe spot inside the watchtower, feeling great iron balls pound his tower again and again. Amid the booming, the entire watchtower seemed to shudder violently. Fragments of stone and thick dust kept raining down, clattering against his helmet.

Fortunately, the watchtower built by the Ming men was exceedingly sturdy; the shelling was not enough to make it collapse. Yanzha exhaled. Only then did he notice the state of the people around him — every one of them covered in ash and dust, many dripping with fresh blood, with no telling where they had been hit.

In particular, Niru Zhangjing Ning'erjia — his left arm hung empty. At the severed end, stark white bone jutted out, with a few remnants of red flesh strands still clinging to it.

Ning'erjia trembled uncontrollably. He clutched his severed stump, large beads of cold sweat dripping from his forehead. So that arm just now had been his.

Everyone inside the watchtower stood dumbstruck, including the Han army Jalai Zhangjing and the Goryeo army colonels who had been inside all along and never gone out. The Ming army's fierce cannonade had stunned them all at once. Following Jalai Zhangjing Yanzha's gaze, only then did they notice Niru Zhangjing Ning'erjia's condition.

Everyone shouted in alarm: "Lord Ning'erjia is wounded! Quickly, bandage him!"

Then someone noticed Yanzha's buttocks: "Ah! Lord Jalai's buttocks are wounded! Quick, give aid…"

…

In the Shenji Battalion artillery position, after each cannon fired, the gunners immediately swabbed the bore with dampened wool-and-wood rammers. The continuous hiss of steam rose, clouds of vapor billowing forth.

After swabbing the bore, the loaders inserted a fresh propellant charge. At the same time, one gunner pressed his thumb over the vent to prevent backdraft from igniting any unextinguished embers. Then they rammed in an iron ball to seat it firmly, placed a new priming fuse at the vent, and prepared to aim and fire.

Because the four-wheeled gun carriages were anchored by driven stakes, the guns recoiled very little, making re-aiming and re-laying relatively easy. Moreover, the artillery fired in several alternating shifts, which made adjusting fire even easier.

Fu Yingchong bellowed: "Blast the bastards to hell!"

Amid the shrill swan calls, the Ming artillery position again erupted with deafening cannon fire. Thick smoke blanketed the field as great heavy iron balls, one after another, howled forth and hurtled toward the Qing position.

Jalai Zhangjing Yanzha roared in fury: "Here they come again!"

This wave from the Ming red-barbarian cannons used grape shot — each large ball accompanied by a dozen or more small projectiles, the onslaught even more terrifying. The shells came screaming in, smashing head-on across the front and rear of the Qing defense line. Yanzha heard the unending sound of earth and stone collapsing, and the shrieks and agonized screams of many Qing soldiers in the line…

With a thunderous crash, a stockade tower was struck directly by a Ming cannonball.

This stockade tower was of timber-and-earth construction, with a stockade gate below and space above for a number of men to garrison and guard. Such stockade towers could withstand arquebus fire and arrows without trouble, but under the bombardment of a cannonball weighing over twenty jin, the massive timber-and-stone structure collapsed in an instant.

The Qing soldiers above, and those sheltering below, were all buried alive in the heaps of earth and timber amid their screams, completely entombed. It was doubtful that more than a handful inside could have survived.

Boom! A great iron ball smashed through an earthen wall. Amid the spray of dust came a thick mist of blood. A Qing soldier was pulverized into minced flesh on the spot; mud mixed with shattered, dismembered body parts flew everywhere.

Several others were hurled to the ground, every one coated in ash and dirt, their bodies covered in mud and gore. One Han soldier was torn in half at the waist. He was flung far outside the palisade wall, yet did not die immediately. In agony, he crawled along the ground, wailing heart-rending cries as he went.

Boom! Boom!…

Cannonballs large and small flew and bounced wildly. Some landed in the trench and low wall in front of the main wall, bounced a few times, and then lay still.

Others sailed over the palisade wall and hurtled toward the stone houses, wooden huts, and tents behind the ridge, smashing some of them to ruin and bringing waves of shrieks to the camp followers and auxiliary troops there. A few unlucky ones were grazed or bowled over by cannonballs, losing hands or feet, shrieking desperately to those nearby for help.

Behind the ridge, two armored horsemen of the Bordered White Banner stood, one in front of the other, hands on their saber hilts, before a wooden hut, heads high.

Such composure in the face of cannon fire made the fleeing, panicked camp followers look on with boundless admiration.

Yet in the chaos, they failed to notice the copious blood gurgling from the two men's mouths. A cannonball had struck that wooden hut, and a sharp wooden stake had shot through from behind them, skewering them together back to front. The two men had thus died slowly, standing upright.

Jalai Zhangjing Yanzha peered out from the arrow-slit windows on both sides of the watchtower. In the winding trench walls, his defense line was already a complete shambles. Earthen and stone walls had collapsed in many places; even several cannons had been struck, their parts scattered across the ground.

The soldiers behind the walls were either terrified out of their wits and running everywhere, or ashen-faced with dull, vacant eyes. Many sat in blank bewilderment, not knowing what to do, or huddled tightly in corners, mouths muttering incantations — to which god or Buddha they prayed, or whether they simply resigned themselves to fate, none could tell.

The wails of wounded soldiers rose and fell in waves. Watching this scene, the flesh across Yanzha's face twitched uncontrollably. Suddenly he let out a shriek and rushed to the arrow-slit directly ahead. Pointing at the Ming artillery position, he cursed: "The Han dogs' great cannon — what a pain in the arse!"

…

The Ming army's cannon fire came wave after wave. For the Qing soldiers, the torment of enduring the shelling seemed interminably long. After a great while, the howling of Ming shells went from dense to sparse, and at last the artillery position fell silent.

Although firing by alternating salvos required less cooling time — especially the Ming army's bronze cannons, which could fire longer than iron ones — after half a shichen of firing, the Shenji Battalion's guns still ceased.

As the smoke slowly dispersed, both the Ming and Qing sides raised their spyglasses to observe carefully. On the mountain fortress, Huang Taiji, and on Huangtu Ridge, Dorgon and the others, naturally watched with clenched fists and gnashing teeth.

In the Ming position, of course, there was universal cheering.

Hong Chengchou also had a spyglass. As he observed the results of the bombardment, he was too astonished to speak. Zhang Ruoqi likewise drew in cold breaths, his expression shifting through countless changes. For a long while, he could find no words to express what he felt.

Wang Dou nodded with a smile. The Shenji Battalion had done well.

"Aha!"

The men of the Shenji Battalion cheered and leapt about, exulting in their achievement.

In unison they began singing the "Heaven-Favored Imperial Ming" melody: "Sublime is the Lord on High, who favors our Imperial Ming. The great mandate has been gathered; the root is firm, the branches flourish. What is that root? Nurturing virtue in the spring palace. What are those branches? The border princedoms are at peace. May the blessing extend a hundred generations, may grace cover all living beings. For a thousand autumns and ten thousand years, forever behold its fulfillment."

They sang antiphonally to one another, and from time to time someone would dance along.

Before long, the "Heaven-Favored Imperial Ming" melody changed into another rousing song.

It was a Shenji Battalion soldier whose ancestor had served under the Red Turbans at the end of the Yuan dynasty. He began singing the Red Turban army song, and it resonated with many.

His voice was deep and resonant. With great emotion and expression, he sang loudly.

"Good men, take leave of father and mother — not for themselves, but for the common folk."

"Steel blades in hand, ninety-nine strong, we shall not cease till the barbarians are slain."

"I am a man of honor among men — how could I be beast of burden to the Tatar caitiffs!"

Then many others took up the next lines: "Stalwart warriors drain the bowl of wine, on the thousand-li campaign, never turning back!"

Finally, all sang in chorus: "Golden drums sound as the myriad host roars — till we break the Yellow Dragon, our oath never ends! Golden drums sound as the myriad host roars — till we break the Yellow Dragon, our oath never ends!"

Hong Chengchou laughed: "Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

Wang Dou smiled. The Shenji Battalion — optimistic, full of life.

Fu Yingchong looked with satisfaction upon the officers and men of his battalion. Hands clasped behind his back, he declared loudly: "Brothers, you've fought well! You've shown the mettle of us sons of the capital! But it's not enough!"

He swept his hand forward and declared with boundless bravado: "Bring them up — the Earth-Piercing Mountain-Breaking Thunder Cannons!"