Chapter 567: Breaking the Formation

Rolling waves of Plain Blue Banner Manchu-Mongol cavalry, vast herds of horses, with some Plain White Banner elite riders tucked in behind — after breaking the front and center formations they did not pause, their momentum like the tide, and surged toward Hong Chengchou's rear formation.

Amid the thunderous hoofbeats came the panicked shrieks of routed soldiers, swiftly swallowed by the mass of horses.

On Hong Chengchou's face a trace of cold malice surfaced. Through his spyglass he had already seen Li Fuming's and Zuo Guangxian's command banners fall — the two old generals were likely doomed. If the rear formation could not hold, the outcome awaiting him would not be pleasant, and in the central army's rear formation there were also the Army Supervisor and the Imperial Envoy.

He said icily, "Artillery and firearms, prepare for battle!"

Zhang Ruoqi cried out in alarm, "Viceroy Hong, there are still masses of scattered soldiers ahead — should we wait a moment and let them disperse first?"

Hong Chengchou said evenly, "Your Excellency Zhang sees clearly — the slave-bandit cavalry has already charged up; there is no time for that."

Wang Dehua and Fu Yingchong both remained silent. As Imperial Envoy, any words from Wang Dehua at this moment would be inappropriate. Fu Yingchong was more concerned for the rear formation's safety — compared to his own life, the lives and deaths of the soldiers ahead held no comparability whatsoever.

Hong Chengchou was no soft-hearted man. Having commanded armies for many years, his decisiveness and resolve were of the highest order. In an instant, he made his decision.

When the surging cavalry masses of the Plain Blue Banner and others galloped to within two hundred paces, Hong Chengchou gave the order to open fire. The shrill swan-whistle sounded across the entire rear army position. The Divine Machine Battalion's several hundred artillery carts roared in unison — the first-tier cannon on each cart, the "Captive-Destroyer Cannon," bellowed one-catty solid shot toward the front.

Amid the thunderous cannonade, rolling dense smoke billowed up. Clusters of Qing riders and horses toppled, and some fleeing routed soldiers were also torn to pieces.

The shrill swan-whistle sounded again. The second-tier Captive-Destroyer Cannons roared out a hail of shot.

The Qing riders still came rolling on. Another mournful swan-whistle cry — the Divine Machine Battalion's several hundred artillery carts, their third-tier Captive-Destroyer Cannons, blasted a dense rain of grapeshot forward.

On the ground ahead, countless bursts of dust, smoke, and grit erupted. From the charging heavy cavalry and horse herds, sprays of blood mist jetted from men and horses alike. In that moment, no one knew how many Qing cavalry warhorses were killed or wounded.

Yet to break the Ming central army, they seemed to have staked everything. The front wave of Qing riders had barely thinned when the rear wave already surged up. Fortunately, after assaulting several formations in succession, their horse herds were largely spent, and because of the grapeshot, considerable chaos lay before the war carts, preventing them from directly breaching the artillery carts — buying the Ming troops time and opportunity.

The sound of volley fire rang out. The Datong New Army, along with the Divine Machine Battalion arquebusiers, braced behind the shield boards of each artillery cart and fired forward in successive volleys.

Their weapons were all of rather fine quality. The Datong New Army had bird guns supplied by the Eastern Route; the Divine Machine Battalion arquebusiers uniformly used flintlock Rumi rifles. At this moment of life and death, they gave everything they had, each man performing at superhuman intensity.

Though terrified, the Datong New Army could still fight according to military discipline. After several battles, the Divine Machine Battalion arquebusiers would no longer flail about helplessly as they had the first time. They all roared and howled, doing nothing but loading and blasting away.

At the same time, the Divine Machine Battalion's Frankish breech-loading gunners also frantically jammed in sub-chambers, trying to fire as rapidly as possible in the short time available.

War drums and battle cries shook the heavens; the roar of firearms and cannon was deafening. Tide-like waves of Plain Blue Banner and Plain White Banner Manchu-Mongol cavalry surged forward in succession, loosing locust-swarm volleys of arrows and a rain of javelins and throwing axes. Both sides bled casualties without pause.

More and more Qing riders dismounted to shoot on foot. Their blood-grooved three-edged arrows inflicted heavy losses on the gunners and arquebusiers behind the artillery carts.

Although the Divine Machine Battalion arquebusiers had all been re-equipped with the armor gifted by Wang Dou, those Qing soldiers shot with deadly accuracy. Their bird guns' loading and firing speed could not match that of the Jingbian Army, and as the attacking Qing soldiers gathered in ever greater numbers, they fell increasingly onto the back foot.

Hong Chengchou's face was cold. His Viceroy's Personal Battalion had yet to enter the fray, but seeing the attrition in the situation before him, there would inevitably come a moment when his own side could hold no longer.

Zhang Ruoqi's face was the color of earth. He merely muttered, "What to do, what to do?"

Wang Dehua had stopped trembling, but his eyeballs rolled round and round — no one knew what schemes he was turning over in his mind.

"Break the Ming rear formation and cut down the Ming Viceroy Hong Chengchou — it is right before our eyes!"

On the rear ridge of Songjiagou, Huang Taiji gazed ahead, his expression cold to the bone.

He had already received word from the right wing: the Han Eight Banners and Korean army had suffered a great defeat, all their artillery lost. The whereabouts of Jin Zidian, Liu Zhiyuan, Shi Tingzhu, Jin Yuze, Zu Zerun, Wu Shoujin, and others were unknown. Even the several hundred elite Gabsihiyan soldiers he had assigned to hold the line on that flank — no one knew how many had escaped in the chaos. The Gabsihiyan Janggin Loosa's fate was likewise unknown.

Before the great battle, Huang Taiji had had a premonition that the Han and Korean troops might find it hard to withstand the Jingbian Army's assault, but he had never imagined they would collapse so quickly, so disastrously — it could be called a crushing loss. In the end, would the Han Eight Banner and Korean routed troops that could be gathered even number twenty thousand?

Not far from his side, Geng Zhongming, Shang Kexi, and Ma Guangyuan had been kneeling for a very long time. Their kneecaps were numb and aching, yet Huang Taiji showed no intention of letting them rise.

He had no attention to spare for these three gūsa ejen of the Han banners now. He was only thinking: the right wing had suffered a great defeat. Though the news was being suppressed, it could not be contained for long, and the Jingbian Army and others would soon press forward. With one side waning and the other waxing, he needed to end the central-front battle as quickly as possible.

Fortunately, victory and defeat hung by a single thread — just a little more force, and Hong Chengchou's central army rear formation would soon be broken.

Thinking this, amid fury and worry, Huang Taiji immediately issued an order: "Transmit Our decree — the left-wing Plain White Banner commanders Dorgon and Dodo, the gūsa ejen Ibei and Suna, and the various Outer Mongol taiji and beile: draw several jala of elite cavalry and immediately reinforce Hooge and Jirgalang. Before Wang Dou's reinforcements arrive, you must break the Ming central front and slay their Viceroy Hong Chengchou!"

Jin Zidian, Liu Zhiyuan, Shi Tingzhu, and the others had sent no word for a long time — it seemed their fates were grim. In the right-wing battle, his own side had lost at least five gūsa ejen and countless Han army officers. Even the Korean Right State Councilor had been killed or captured. How would the Korean court and ministers view the Great Qing in the future?

Though good news had come from beneath the walls of Jinzhou — the Shanhai Army had been routed, the Ming Regional Commander Ma Ke had been killed, and Li Fuming and Zuo Guangxian might also be cut down — this was far from enough. He needed to slay a few more figures of weight, such as Hong Chengchou, such as Zu Dashou, to keep the Great Qing's prestige from falling.

Huang Taiji's obese frame remained steadily poised on horseback. His gaze looked far toward Yizhou and Xingshan. If only Yizhou could be held, Xingshan won, and Hong Chengchou's central army taken, the Jinzhou campaign would still be counted among the Great Qing's countless victories.

Behind him, after receiving the news of the right wing's great defeat, the Minister of Revenue Inggūldai and the others had long since lost their earlier high spirits. The Mongols — Badali, Ejei, and the rest — were even more ashen-faced, looking like dead men.

"What is the situation with the central army?"

Li Guangheng, Yang Guozhu, and Wang Pu all gazed toward the central army with worried expressions. In that direction, smoke and dust surged to the sky; faintly, the sounds of firearms and cannon, of battle cries, drifted over from time to time, but the exact circumstances could not be clearly seen.

A quarter-hour earlier, the right wing had received an urgent plea for aid from the central army. The cavalry of Li Fuming's and Zuo Guangxian's main-force battalions, stationed on this flank, hearing that the central army was in peril and worried for their own commanders, had immediately and urgently petitioned the Right Wing Regional Commander Yang Guozhu to let them lead their cavalry back to reinforce the central army.

Though his own flank was hard-pressed, Yang Guozhu unhesitatingly granted their request. However, the various commanders had just been locked in tangled combat with the Qing riders, and pulling the troops back had cost them considerable time.

Wang Pu was likewise inwardly worried. The various battalions of the central formation were one thing — though they were all Datong Garrison troops, in truth Wang Pu did not much care about them. What worried him was his own New Army infantry battalion in the central army's rear formation. How much of his own heart and effort had he poured into that unit?

Seeing his distraction, Yang Guozhu could only shout encouragement at full volume. Li Guangheng's reassurances in particular helped Wang Pu recover a little of his spirit.

The Plain White Banner Tartars launched yet another attack. They seemed quite heedless of casualties, desperately entangling them.

Yet it was also evident that many of their troops had been drawn away — precisely the moment for the right wing to seize victory. Yang Guozhu gave a cold snort and bellowed, "Soldiers, kill the slaves!"

Li Guangheng roared, "Drive them into the river!"

"Drown them!"

After this flank's Divine Machine Battalion rocket carts, Divine Might Grand General cannons, and large and small mortars opened fire, the rolling Ming cavalry once more surged roaring toward the Qing riders ahead...

"Second Brother, Second Brother, the casualties are too heavy!"

Dodo cried out to Dorgon with some alarm. Beside the two of them, the two Mongol gūsa ejen of the Plain White Banners were likewise ashen-faced as snow.

Their Plain White Banner Manchu-Mongol forces, dealing with Yang Guozhu, Li Guangheng, and the others, though holding an advantage in troop strength, found that the enemy's several dozen Divine Might Grand General cannons, their massed rocket carts, and their large and small mortars firing ash-shells and poison-shells were hardly toothless.

Even more hateful were their Divine Fire Flying Crow heavy rockets — wherever they landed, a sea of flame instantly erupted; clinging to a man's body, they burned unquenched by water, only stopping when they had seared to the bone. It made men feel as though they dwelt in a fiery hell. Many Manchu and Mongol soldiers hated them to the marrow, yet feared them like tigers.

Nor could the great army composed of Ming main-force battalion cavalry be underestimated. The Jingbian Army cavalry in particular, when charging, kept their formation tight and advanced like a wall, causing them no small grief.

Fortunately, the enemy were few, and the cavalry of other units — their horsemanship and combat strength no match for the Manchu-Mongol Eight Banner cavalry, even Yang Guozhu's main-force battalion being the same, to say nothing of the cavalry of Wang Pu's, Li Fuming's, and Zuo Guangxian's main-force battalions — so the two sides traded blows back and forth, locked in a stalemate.

But as the Plain White Banner elite cavalry were continually drawn off to reinforce Hooge and the others, and with Huang Taiji's strict order to entangle the Ming cavalry on this flank at all costs...

Though the Ming cavalry had likewise been drawn off in considerable numbers, the most combat-effective Jingbian Army cavalry and Yang Guozhu's cavalry remained. The Plain White Banner's casualties immediately soared. Dodo watched, heart aching unbearably. The Mongol Plain White Banner gūsa ejen Ibei and the Bordered White Banner gūsa ejen Suna were even more vociferous in their complaints.

Dodo shot a glance toward the rear ridge, and through gritted teeth said to Dorgon, "That fellow on the throne has gone mad. Does he think he's about to die, and wants to bury our Plain White Banners along with him?"

He lowered his voice: "Yesterday, I saw that fellow cough up blood. Though he covered it up at once, I still saw it!"

Dorgon's heart stirred. He shook his head. "That is not the reason. On the right wing, the Han Eight Banner side — it seems they have been defeated!"

Dodo was dumbstruck: "Defeated? In so short a time?"

Soon his eyes flickered, and he said darkly, "That Wang Dou — won't he soon be coming over from the right flank? When the time comes, they'll strike at Hauge, Jirgalang, and the others right across the middle…"

Dorgon smiled faintly and said coldly, "At that moment, Huang Taiji will certainly order us to rush to the rescue. We must find ways to delay by a measure or two."

He looked ahead. The Ming cavalry was once again surging forward in waves. Raising his voice, he turned to the two Mongol Gūsa Beise, Ibei and Suna, and said, "The Ming forces are overwhelming. At present, many of our elite riders have been drawn away. We must not engage in reckless battle. Exercise utmost caution. When necessary, dismount and form ranks, using strong bows and spear formations for defense."

Ibei immediately breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Prince Rui speaks with sound reason."

Suna was even more effusive in praise: "Prince Rui's insight is profound — truly he has grasped the very essence of military strategy…"

"Charge!"

On the central battlefield, war cries shook the heavens as ten thousand horsemen surged forward. Hauge roared desperately, feeding the troops of each banner into the fray one jalan at a time.

Beside him, Jirgalang's brow was tightly furrowed. Attacking the Ming rear formation had cost them no small number of casualties. Their resistance was far too tenacious — their bird guns and cannons had driven the soldiers of every banner back in waves.

Seeing that Hauge seemed to be growing somewhat crazed, he was about to offer counsel, but Hauge suddenly snatched the great dragon banner held by Arjin, the Bayara Banner Commander of the Plain Blue Banner. He bellowed furiously, "Within a quarter-hour, we must break through the Ming central army's grand formation! For the Great Qing — kill!"

"Kill!"

Hauge's rallying cry ignited the courage of the tens of thousands of Qing soldiers from every banner on the central battlefield. Following Hauge's great dragon banner, they roared and howled as they charged toward the rear formation of Hong Chengchou's central army!

The rolling tide of Qing cavalry surged across the earth like waves forming a vast flood. Countless hooves pounded the ground, the sound rising like approaching thunder from the edge of the sky. In the increasingly frigid air, the white breath of men and horses merged into a single haze.

Hong Chengchou's face was ashen as he watched the surging tide of armored riders. His own Supervisory Battalion had already been fully committed. Yet the Qing troops in the center had launched an all-out charge — could his rear formation still hold?

Zhang Ruoqi closed his eyes. He had already cast aside the Confucian precept that a gentleman does not speak of disorder, violence, and the supernatural, and was now murmuring Buddhist prayers under his breath.

Wang Dehua sighed. He had been wrong to accompany the army into battle this time. He glanced left and right, trying to decide which direction would be best to flee when the moment came. But with his plump, rotund frame and utterly abysmal riding skills — could he possibly outrun the pursuing Tartars?

At last, the Folangji cannon carts of the Divine Machine Battalion could no longer withstand the tidal assault of the Qing cavalry. Amid the sounds of one cannon cart after another being overturned, countless soldiers of the Plain Blue Banner broke through into the wagon formation.