Chapter 496

Jueluo Guoke had never felt so utterly routed. In the past, when he fought the Ming army, no matter how perilous the situation, he could always quickly find a safe position — whether securing the rear or shielding the flanks. But today, that certainty had been swept clean away.

Trapped inside this accursed Jingbian Army formation, Jueluo Guoke felt as though Ming firepower was pouring in from every direction — bird guns, cannons, or Ten-Thousand-Man Bombs — inflicting grievous casualties on the warriors of his jalan. The gaps between these wagon-forts were like death traps, steadily devouring the lives of the warriors under his command.

In truth, as a jalan commander of the Plain Blue Banner, what dangerous situation had Jueluo Guoke not seen?

Just this past March, he and Gabushixian Galai Angbang Nushan had suddenly encountered Ming troops at Xingshan. At the time, they had only ten mounted armored soldiers with them, while the Ming force numbered over a hundred, all in fine armor on swift horses. Jueluo Guoke and Nushan had fought with furious shouts, and in the end took thirty heads and captured thirty-two horses.

Especially in November of last year, Jueluo Guoke's force of just over a hundred men had encountered a thousand Ming troops. The final result: Jueluo Guoke struck and routed them, killing one Ming deputy officer and over three hundred infantry and cavalry.

He had experienced countless such battles. No matter how dire the circumstances, Jueluo Guoke had always found a way to respond. Yet now, Jueluo Guoke was bewildered, terrified, and did not know how to fight on.

Under Jirgalang's arrangement, the various banners had mustered over twenty thousand banner soldiers and armored troops, plus several thousand mounted and skilled archer attendants selected from the aha servants following the army — all surplus men within the niru — forming an assault force of twenty-three thousand.

Of these, roughly over four thousand were assigned to pin down Wu Sangui's wagon camp. The remaining nearly twenty thousand were to attack the Jingbian Army infantry and cavalry formations.

Of course, Jirgalang could not commit all his troops at once. A portion of his own Bordered Blue Banner, along with a portion of Hooge's Plain Blue Banner, totaling several thousand men, remained in reserve as a rear guard. The rest — five thousand to attack the Ming cavalry formation, and ten thousand to assault the Jingbian Army infantry formation.

The southeastern plain of Huangtuling seemed to hold six of the Eight Banner Manchu banners, but in reality, each Manchu banner had only a few thousand troops present — some contributing only a few niru, others a dozen or more. The largest contingents were from the Manchu Plain Blue Banner, Bordered Blue Banner, and Plain White Banner.

In particular, Prince Wuying Ajige — although Dorgon had replaced him as master of the Plain White Banner — still held strong control over the niru under his command, and most of them were now at his side.

Yet the loss of elite bayara warriors like Maise filled Ajige with bitter, aching fury. Fifty bayara soldiers, and a bayara jalan commander to boot — how many bayara did a single banner of the Qing state even possess?

The ten thousand Qing troops assaulting the Jingbian Army infantry formation could not, of course, all charge at once. They were divided into successive waves, attacking without pause — this was the Qing practice of using sharp assault waves: one wave retreats, another comes on.

Jueluo Guoke's Plain Blue Banner jalan, together with a portion of Plain Yellow Banner troops, Bordered Blue Banner troops, plus the Mongol Plain Yellow Banner and a portion of the Outer Mongol Tumed Left and Right Wing banners, formed the first wave, tasked with attacking the various small Jingbian Army positions.

The battle went badly from the start. Within his jalan were the "death soldiers" from the Hezhe tribe, famed for their ferocity. Clad in heavy armor, they drove herds of horses to charge the formation. But after several volleys of canister shot from the Jingbian Army, those death soldiers suffered catastrophic losses and could no longer press the charge.

Jueluo Guoke had no choice, and was also loath to expend his elite mounted armored troops. He had to abandon the idea of a frontal assault on the Jingbian Army wagon-forts and instead turned to outflank them from both wings. He never imagined this would lead him into a hellish devil's lair.

When he led his troops into the passage between two wagon-forts, they immediately came under ferocious attack from the Jingbian Army on both sides. Bird guns and Ten-Thousand-Man Bombs rained down incessantly, inflicting heavy losses on the light cavalry pouring into the passage.

Especially when they drew near a wagon-fort in the second line, two Jingbian Army cannons roared with canister shot, and dozens of his men fell from their horses on the spot, each writhing and howling in agony. A niru commander was killed outright.

Seeing their mangled flesh, severed limbs flying, and utterly wretched state, everyone nearby felt a chill in their hearts. These Plain Blue Banner soldiers had never fought the Jingbian Army before and had previously dismissed the tales. Only now did they realize in horror: how had the warriors of the other banners ever endured such devastating Jingbian guns and cannons?

Though the casualties of his men pained Jueluo Guoke's heart, gripping the great banner of his jalan commander, he still bellowed furiously, urging the warriors of his jalan to press the attack.

Moreover, seasoned in battle, he quickly made another decision: abandon the attack on this Jingbian Army frontal wagon-fort and instead outflank it from both wings.

The final result plunged him into a true death trap, as he instantly came under fire from four sides of the Jingbian Army.

The cavalry of Jueluo Guoke's jalan, merging with the jalan and niru forces of the other banners, surged torrentially into the right flank of that position. Amid a chorus of Ming battle cries, iron bombs rained down like hailstones, and then — boom, boom! Boom, boom, boom — the explosions of black powder thundered without cease, dense white smoke billowing up, and shrapnel of every kind flying within.

Although the Jingbian Army had also hurled Ten-Thousand-Man Bombs when they first entered the wagon-fort area, experiencing it again, many warhorses still could not endure. They bolted uncontrollably in terror, and with men and horses wounded, this surging wave of Qing cavalry fell into utter chaos.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

From the Jingbian Army wagon-forts to the left, right, and rear, muzzle flashes and gunfire erupted again. Amid the chaos, dozens more men and horses screamed and fell. Especially the bullets fired from behind caught those Qing riders completely off guard, and they shrieked in panic.

"Blow these wild-boar-spawn to bits!"

No sooner had the gunfire ceased than another rain of iron bombs came hurtling over.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

After the Ten-Thousand-Man Bombs exploded, the gunfire roared again.

Smoke hung thick in the air. His ears were filled with the panicked neighing of terrified warhorses, the dying screams of warriors, and the maddened leaping of countless frenzied horses all around him. Jueluo Guoke fought desperately to rein in his own mount; the horse that had always been so docile was now utterly wild.

He felt unbearably hot and parched. Under the blazing sun, the choking smell of gunpowder smoke mixed with the piercing stench of blood, and drawing it into his lungs was sheer torment.

The smoke swirling around made the faces of those nearby flicker in and out of view — some fleeing in panic and terror, others standing dazed and brutalized in bewilderment. All the myriad faces of humanity were on display across this battlefield.

Jueluo Guoke fought to steady himself. He looked toward a wagon-fort on the right. It seemed to be a small Jingbian Army position perched atop a low, rising knoll.

By now, their war-wagons were already shrouded in the drifting smoke, and the Ming gunners behind them were even harder to make out. The gunfire rising and falling from every direction at every moment made it equally impossible to distinguish the sound of their own shots. All he could sense were the deadly muzzle flashes flickering intermittently through the smoke, followed immediately by the screams of his own men and horses.

Right before his eyes, Ruoketa, a fierce warrior of his jalan, was struck by a flying lead ball.

He tumbled from his horse and collapsed on the ground, struggling desperately. His blood-soaked body lay only a few paces away. He was a mounted armored soldier, a man of outstanding combat skill both mounted and on foot — yet he had died so cheaply. Even the heavy armor on his body had offered him not the slightest protection.

His horse was also hit. Bathed in blood and terrified, it bucked and rolled wildly, nearly throwing Jueluo Guoke from his own saddle. Death was so close. Watching Ruoketa stretch his hands desperately toward him, Jueluo Guoke, who had thought himself beyond fear, found his own hands trembling uncontrollably.

Looking further ahead, several attendants were howling at the top of their lungs. Most wore no armor, only melon-rind caps and arrow-sleeved robes — or perhaps padded coats and warm hats — though some of the mounted attendants had provided their own padded armor.

Their behavior was even more wretched: some scurried about like headless flies, searching for a safe haven; others stood dazed and helpless, resigned to fate. When struck by bullets, they wailed and ran for their lives.

"Jueluo jalan! Jueluo jalan!"

Suddenly, Jueluo Guoke snapped alert. Amid the din of Ming gunfire and explosions, it was the niru commander Chiwuti bellowing at him: "What do we do now?"

Jueluo Guoke knew he had reached the most agonizing moment of decision in his entire life. If he won, this would be one of his most glorious battles. If he lost, he would be buried here.

He jerked his head to scan all around. The Ming wagon-forts to the left, right, and rear were ceaselessly spewing soul-snatching white smoke. But ahead was no safer.

Like a dark, surging flood, the Qing cavalry had passed through multiple positions and already reached the front of the Yi-grade troops' war-wagons. Looking out, every gap between the wagon-forts seemed crammed with arriving riders. Many were circling the various positions at a gallop, loosing arrows or hurling javelins and the like at each wagon-fort.

Many more were attempting to charge the war-wagons ahead. But cavalry needed considerable space, and having wound their way past so many wagon-forts, by the time they reached this point, their horses could no longer stretch out into a full gallop. They were firmly blocked here. Behind the war-wagons, the volley guns of the Jingbian Army's Yi-grade troops fired without pause.

With each volley, a solid sheet of muzzle flash lit up behind the war-wagons, and then plumes of white smoke burst into the air like dragons.

Wave after wave of Qing riders were shot dead in front of the war-wagons. The blood flowing from men and horses had already turned the dry yellow earth of the ground into a brownish mire. Rivulets of fresh blood trickled toward the low ground, merging into rivers of gore.

"Blow these wild-boar-spawn to bits!"

Amid the shouting, the Ming troops behind the war-wagons kept hurling Ten-Thousand-Man Bombs, throwing the Qing riders before the wagons into even greater chaos.

Jueluo Guoke made a sudden decision: attack the wagon-fort on the right. The Ming firepower ahead was too dense — advancing that way was a road to certain death.

But on the two flanks, they had only a few dozen bird guns. A determined assault could still take them.

If they could capture just one Jingbian Army wagon-fort, the entire situation would change dramatically.

He rejected the suggestion from several niru commanders in his jalan to attack the lower side of that wagon-fort. Once troops moved there, they would seemingly face Ming fire from only the front and rear — but the gunfire from behind those war-wagons was simply too intense.

By contrast, remaining between these two wagon-forts meant facing fire from four sides, but the Ming firepower to the front and rear might be two or three hundred paces away. As long as they kept their distance from those forward and rear firing points, the few dozen bird guns on these two flanks would still be relatively weak.

Seeing that men and horses around him were still being hit at any moment and chaos reigned, Jueluo Guoke bellowed: "All dismount and fight on foot!"

He rapidly redeployed, using the nearly one hundred sword-and-shield men in his jalan to shield the rear, along with some archers to loose arrows. Though their shields and armor could not stop the Jingbian Army's firelocks at all, having something to screen themselves was better than nothing.

Then, facing this wagon-fort on the right, Jueluo Guoke deployed over a hundred skilled archers, with several dozen mounted armored sword-and-shield men in the center for a fierce assault, followed by several dozen more mounted armored soldiers carrying heavy tiger lances, ready to attack.

It was not that Jueluo Guoke did not wish to mass more troops, but the space here was relatively confined and did not permit deployment. In particular, riders from various banners kept sweeping past, and men and horses struck by bullets were shrieking and bucking wildly, further disrupting his troop arrangements. Moreover, amid the chaos and panic, many men had already ridden off to who knew where.

And just as Gioro Guoke was deploying his forces, from both flanks came the incessant thunderous roar of firearms, and one by one the warriors within each niru were struck down to the ground. Bursts of blood mist erupted from their bodies; neither shield nor armor could offer them any protection.

Gioro Guoke was burning with impatience. Holding aloft the great banner of the niru commander, he bellowed and roared at his subordinates to charge. Those archers and sword-and-shield soldiers surged forward with battle cries toward the war wagons ahead.

The Jingbian Army over there seemed to have spotted Gioro Guoke’s situation, and volley after volley of gunfire kept coming at them.

Although each wave consisted of only a dozen or so guns, the firepower was unceasing. These charging Qing soldiers, screaming, tumbled and fell one after another. In the blink of an eye, twenty or thirty men were down on the ground.

Compared to the Jingbian Army’s bird guns, their bows were still far too weak, only gaining lethality at fifty paces. To pierce cotton armor or iron armor, they had to close to around twenty or thirty paces. Of course, their arrowheads were chisel-shaped and as long as seven inches; if one was struck, it was no pleasant thing either…

Gioro Guoke roared with desperate fury. Suddenly, with a thunderous boom, from behind a war wagon, amid the smoke, a dazzling, dense burst of flame suddenly erupted.

At least six or seven Qing soldiers rolled on the ground with harrowing shrieks. Many had heads, faces, and bodies covered in densely packed bloody holes. They screamed shrilly, kneeling on the ground, painfully vomiting out large mouthfuls of blood clots mixed with internal organs.

“It’s the Ming army’s Nine-Headed Bird!”

Many Qing soldiers charging the formation cried out in terror. Gioro Guoke clenched his jaw: “Charge forward!”

Immediately after, another thunderous roar. Two Qing soldiers’ heads were blasted to pulp, and blood gushed out like fountains.

Beside them, three or four others knelt wailing on the ground. The grapeshot’s blast had turned their faces into bloody pockmarks. One archer even had an eyeball knocked out, dangling outside its socket — utterly horrifying.

More people screamed in terror: “Yingyang cannon…”

Gioro Guoke said sternly: “Anyone who retreats dies!”

The situation before him allowed no retreat. Holding the great banner of the niru commander, he personally followed behind those sword-and-shield soldiers, directing the charge into battle.

At last, amid the crack of the Jingbian Army’s bird guns, these Qing soldiers rushed to within twenty or thirty paces of the war wagons. They crouched low with wide strides, and bowstrings twanged as arrows flew in unison.

Many shot arrows in rapid succession, loosing several in the blink of an eye. Some hurled javelins and iron maces with all their might. Although the Ming troops were shielded behind the war wagons and the smoke hung thick, obscuring their targets, muffled grunts could still be heard — it seemed some Ming soldiers behind the wagons had been struck by arrows or hit by thrown weapons.

Under the cover of the archers, the remaining Qing sword-and-shield soldiers roared madly as they lunged toward the Jingbian Army’s war wagons. And those armored cavalrymen wielding tiger spears also bellowed, charging forward as if heedless of their lives.

“Myriad-Man Destroyer!”

From behind the war wagons came the Ming army’s roaring voices. Another batch of iron lumps was hurled out. Amid the booming explosions, some sword-and-shield soldiers and tiger-spear soldiers howled in agony.

Gioro Guoke shouted himself hoarse: “Charge again!” (To be continued…)