Chapter 528: Prologue

In the shadows, Ma Ke’s expression flickered uncertainly. Facing the letter spread before him, he gnashed his teeth one moment and twisted his face into a savage grimace the next.

His hand trembling, he picked up the writing brush and dipped it in ink. The slender purple-tipped brush that had always felt so light now seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

This was nothing like the quiet verbal messages he had sent before. A letter in his own hand, one that even detailed part of the Ming army’s strategic deployment, would be outright collusion with the enemy. If the affair came to light, the outcome would be death for him and the extermination of his clan. For the sake of a grudge, was it truly worth it?

A battle between heaven and man raged in his heart, and for a long time he could not make up his mind. Beside him, Ma Zhiren held his breath, not daring to exhale, shrinking obediently to one side without uttering a word.

Ma Ke’s body trembled more and more violently. He struggled to convince himself, turning over and over in his mind the humiliations he had suffered at Wang Dou’s hands. If sending this letter could make Wang Dou suffer a devastating loss, then even taking this risk would be worth it.

And who knew — perhaps the Tatars would shift their attention to the Jingbian Army, and he himself would thereby achieve great merit at Mount Shimen. Then that damned Wang Dou would have to watch his own complexion.

He steadied his nerves and finally made up his mind. His brush flew like a dragon and darted like a serpent as he swiftly wrote a letter. He had come from an age that esteemed civil officials and scorned military men; to affect refinement, he had once grimly resolved to practice calligraphy with bitter diligence. The standard script Ma Ke wrote now was something even an ordinary Licentiate could not match.

But Ma Ke kept a trick in reserve: he resolutely refused to sign his name or affix his seal. This was also a way of leaving himself a path of retreat. If the Tatars did not believe him, he would go no further.

That way, should the affair ever come to light, he would still have room to argue his defense. At present, here in the Great Ming, he held the post of Regional Commander of a garrison, living a life of comfort and satisfaction. Apart from being treated like a grandson before Wang Dou, he was content with everything else and harbored no other ambitions.

In addition, he drew a map on a piece of silk, marking certain routes upon it. Finally, he placed both the silk map and the letter into a message case.

He did not hand the letter to Ma Zhiren right away. Instead, he silently lit his tobacco pipe again. The curling wisps of smoke shrouded his body once more, making his expression seem so dark and brooding it defied description.

After a long while, Ma Ke said in a sinister tone, “That man you sent — is he reliable?”

Ma Zhiren hurriedly replied, “Rest assured, Great Commander, absolutely reliable.”

Ma Ke fixed Ma Zhiren with a piercing stare for a moment, then closed his eyes and said, “I’ve forgotten — what is his name?”

Ma Zhiren quickly answered, “Ma Jinzhong.”

Cautiously, he added, “Great Commander, have you forgotten? In the ninth year of Chongzhen, you saved the lives of his family. From that day on, Brother Jinzhong resolved to lay down his life for you. Yesterday, when he went out to make contact, he smeared poison between his teeth. If things went wrong, he would take his own life to repay your kindness. This man is absolutely reliable.”

Ma Ke abruptly opened his eyes, his gaze carrying an incomparable sharpness that made Ma Zhiren shudder from head to toe.

Then Ma Ke said flatly, “Good. When he returns from this mission, treat him according to the provisions for a personal guard killed in action. Send one hundred taels of condolence silver to his family at Shanhai Pass.”

Ma Zhiren’s heart trembled, but seeing Ma Ke’s glance sweep over him, his eyes radiating a murderous pressure, he replied in a stiff tone, “Yes, this humble one understands.”

Ma Ke snatched the letter from the desk, stared into Ma Zhiren’s eyes, and handed it to him. “Get it done.”

Ma Zhiren’s face went deathly pale, his forehead covered in sweat. He said repeatedly, “Yes, yes, this humble one will arrange it at once.”

He tucked the letter into his bosom and hurried out.

Drawing on his pipe, Ma Ke watched Ma Zhiren’s figure with a pensive look. Just as Ma Zhiren was about to step out of the tent, he suddenly said, “By the way — when Ma Jinzhong went out yesterday, was the journey smooth all the way?”

Ma Zhiren turned back, somewhat puzzled, but still answered, “Generally smooth, but the Jingbian Army’s patrol riders were everywhere, so it took quite a bit of trouble.”

Like a thunderclap, the words struck Ma Ke’s heart with tremendous force. In an instant, his face drained of all color, bloodless as a sheet. In a trembling voice he said, “You mean to say… Ma Jinzhong might have… encountered Jingbian Army patrol riders on the road?”

He suddenly bellowed, “Come back!”

Ma Zhiren said in alarm, “Great Commander…”

Ma Ke roared anxiously, “Come back!”

Ma Zhiren stood dumbstruck, stammering, “G-Great Commander, what has come over you?”

Ma Ke suddenly collapsed onto the ground. He beckoned weakly to Ma Zhiren, his voice carrying a sobbing note: “Come back, quickly.”

His expression uneasy and bewildered, Ma Zhiren had no idea what had gotten into the Great Commander, acting so mysteriously.

Then he saw Ma Ke, with a burst of strength from who knew where, leap high into the air, snatch the letter from his bosom, and then nimbly produce a fire striker. He shook it alight, touched the letter to the flame, and swiftly set it ablaze. Ma Zhiren, watching from the side, was stupefied and even more baffled.

Only when the letter had been entirely reduced to ashes did Ma Ke breathe a sigh of relief. Leaning on the desk, he gasped for breath in great heaving gulps, his heart still pounding with lingering fear.

Then, as if remembering something else, he shot a look at Ma Zhiren and barked in a low voice, “Go. Go now and kill that Ma Jinzhong. Within half a quarter-hour, I want to see his head laid before me!”

Ma Zhiren’s heart raced with terror. The Great Commander’s erratic reversals made him feel as though he were keeping company with tigers and wolves. Not daring to delay, he answered in a low voice and hurried out.

Watching Ma Zhiren leave the tent, Ma Ke seemed to age several years in an instant. After a long while, he sighed, “Since Yu was born, why must Liang also be born?”

At the hour of the Tiger, Wang Dou was roused from sleep. After hearing the report of the man before him, he said flatly, “Understood.”

The thirteenth day of the eighth month, fourteenth year of Chongzhen. Early morning.

The dawn glow revealed a pinkish light at the edge of the sky. Looking from the air toward the northeast of Huangtuling, from the flatlands below the ridge all the way to the western bank of the Xiaoling River, everything was covered with a tide of humanity like swarming ants.

The terrain and surface features of this area were generally higher in the northwest and lower in the southeast. Strips of dried-up riverbeds, following the northwest high ground, crisscrossed as they flowed, converging into the Xiaoling River to the east. These watercourses formed patches of flatland convenient for irrigation.

However, following the Tianjiagou further northeast, one reached a narrow river-valley zone formed between Mount Shimen and the Xiaoling River. Winding northwestward along this river valley, one could travel all the way to the banks of the Xiaoling River east of Jinzhou city.

Not far north of Tianjiagou was a place called Shuishou Camp, and not far east of the river lay Xiaolinghe Fort. During the Ming, Xiaolinghe Fort had been a post station, with frequent traffic between the two banks. Because this stretch of river was a key ferry and shipping route, numerous boatmen gathered here, forming a camp.

At this moment, the camp had long been occupied by Qing troops, who had also dug a deep trench a hundred paces ahead, severing the connection between the mountain and the river.

At the same time, going west from the Shuishou Camp, the terrain rose from low to high. Ridges undulated one after another, running east to west like stair steps, spreading from north to south all the way to not far from Huangtuling. This was Mount Shimen, northeast of Rufeng Mountain east of Jinzhou city.

Compared to earlier days, the Qing troops garrisoned on Mount Shimen were now few. The banners flying there belonged to a detachment of the Plain White Banner of the Manchu Eight Banners and a detachment of Korean troops — altogether no more than three thousand armored soldiers. Of course, several thousand laborers and bondservants could also be counted as combat strength at a critical moment.

Looking down from the mountain, these Qing soldiers saw that on the southeastern flatlands, Ming army banners of every color were packed densely, and rolling masses of men and horses seemed about to fill the entire zone between the mountain and the river.

When men and horses exceed ten thousand, they give the impression of being beyond counting. How many Ming troops were before their eyes — perhaps thirty or forty thousand or more?

Even for those who held the Ming army’s fighting ability in contempt, this sense of soldiers surging like a tide still made many Qing soldiers on the mountain gasp for breath. As for those Korean soldiers, their faces were utterly drained of color.

Was the Ming main force really going to attack Mount Shimen? With their own side’s paltry numbers, could they hold it?

On the walls of Rufeng Mountain City, the increasingly corpulent Huang Taiji held a telescope and gazed motionlessly at the Ming army to the east. He watched their dark, dense sea of men, their boundless battle formations, advancing slowly but ceaselessly from south to north.

Judging by their banners, they were the forces of Wu Sangui, Ma Ke, Tang Tong, and others. Among them, Ma Ke’s and Tang Tong’s forces formed the vanguard, while Wu Sangui’s force formed the rear.

Huang Taiji also noted that behind these several large armies, the great banner of the Ming Viceroy Hong Chengchou was also raised there. And the man he was most concerned about — Wang Dou — had his Waves, Sun and Moon Banner likewise positioned beside Hong Chengchou.

“Are the Ming really attacking Mount Shimen?”

Huang Taiji pondered inwardly, but he noticed that Wang Dou and the others had not formed battle lines and come out to fight; their troops were still massed in camp. It seemed that at this moment, Wang Dou and the other Ming officers who had not yet entered the fray had only brought a few personal guards with them. Were they here to oversee the formation or merely to observe the battle?

Would they join the assault on Mount Shimen and ultimately concentrate their main force east of Jinzhou city?

Huang Taiji could not make a decision. Of course, one could also explain their non-participation by the fact that the current battlefield could not accommodate that many troops.

As Huang Taiji pondered, the various Qing ministers were likewise watching the Ming army’s movements intently. Hooge stood beside Huang Taiji, also staring down the mountain without blinking. Much of his usual wild and unruly expression had faded; clearly, the battle that day and Ajige’s death had shaken him deeply.

Daišan stroked the graying rat-like whiskers on his upper lip, his head lowered in deep thought. Beside him, Dorgon wore a pensive look, while behind him, Dodo was craning his neck and looking all around.

Ying Erdai, the Minister of Revenue, let out a great laugh and said to Huang Taiji, “This slave congratulates His Majesty. His Majesty sees clearly across ten thousand li — the southern barbarians have indeed walked right into our trap.”

The moment these words left his mouth, a tide of sycophantic praise rose from the surrounding Qing ministers. They all declared that after the Great Qing army fiercely attacked Jinzhou, the Ming army had indeed been unable to sit still. Judging by their current disposition, it looked as if their main force was advancing toward Mount Shimen and the banks of the Xiaoling River. Once they occupied Mount Shimen and their troops tried to cross the Xiaoling River, they would surely shed rivers of blood on both banks.

Haoge said with even greater admiration, “When we discussed matters that day, we could not decide where to position the Uzhen Hachao artillery camp. His Majesty overruled all objections and refused to let the Ming army lead us by the nose. Sure enough, they have now fallen into the trap. When the Jingbian Army reaches the river, their heavy cannons will have to cross — how could that be easy? Meanwhile, our artillery camp’s several hundred cannons can deploy at leisure. When the time comes and the cannons fire in unison, the Jingbian Army crossing the river will surely suffer devastating casualties. For our Great Qing, we shall eliminate this scourge!”

Huang Taiji was also quite satisfied with the situation before him. He had labored with painstaking devotion, and now at last he saw results — how could this not fill him with gratification?

A smile broke through the gloom that had veiled his face for many days. He said, “Our Great Qing was founded on mounted archery. We must use our strengths to strike their weaknesses. Clinging stubbornly to mountain defenses is ultimately useless — we must fight them in the open field!”

He said with deep feeling, “When I read history, I know that Emperor Shizong of Jin was truly a worthy ruler. During the reigns of Xizong and Wanyan Liang, they entirely abandoned the old institutions of Taizu and Taizong, indulging in pleasure without restraint. When Shizong ascended the throne, he feared his descendants would imitate the Han people, and admonished them never to forget the ancestral ways, to practice mounted archery. In later generations, once this was no longer observed, it led to their downfall. Our nation excels at mounted archery — with it we triumph in battle, with it we seize in attack. In the past, Bakshi Dahai and others repeatedly urged me to change Manchu clothing and adopt Han customs. But I know that loose robes and wide sashes will surely lead to the abandonment of mounted archery. In my own lifetime, how could there be any change? I fear that future descendants will forget this, abandon mounted archery, and imitate the Han people — this is a matter of deep concern. All of you, take careful note of this!”

The assembled Qing officials on the mountain fortress listened with solemn reverence and said in unison, “His Majesty is divinely wise! We slaves are prostrate with admiration!”