Chapter 698: How Can It Be Said There Is No Cloth?

Watching the battle ahead, Liu Zongmin, Hao Yaoqi, Yuan Zongdi, Li Guo and the others from the Chuang camp all had grim expressions. The men of the Ge and Left Five Camps were equally uneasy at heart. Even someone as fierce as Geli Yan did not dare claim that if he led his troops to charge the formation, he could break through the Ming army's battle line.

Moreover, the cavalry combat strength of the Ge and Left camps could not compare with that of the Chuang camp. At least the Chuang camp had fought some tough battles. Even the cavalry of the Ge and Left Five Camps usually focused on roving and fleeing — in later ages, they would be typical refugee concentration camps.

The ferocious firepower of the Ming army's volleys ahead, even viewed from this distance, made He Yilong and the others feel their hearts pound with fear. Fortunately, it was the Chuang camp troops who had launched this mid-river crossing assault. Had it been their own men, the outcome would likely have been far worse.

Liu Zongmin was considered the most senior and the most fiercely courageous general in the Chuang camp, known to all as Chief Sentinel Master Liu. Yet now his beard and hair bristled, his leopard-like eyes bulged wide, and his face alternated between ashen and pale.

He murmured, "Why? Why are the court's new troops so brave? They are utterly exhausted — why do they still keep fighting? Why are they so tenacious?"

Liu Zongmin did not understand, nor could he make sense of it. The enemy was few, his own forces many; the enemy's provisions were insufficient; they had been attacked and harassed the entire way. Any other Ming army would have long since scattered. Why did the men under Cao Bianjiao still possess such valor? Such will?

This mid-river crossing assault had been carefully planned by the various men of the roving camps. After all, compared to the smaller rivers before, this river was relatively harder to cross.

Relying on the swift speed of their horses, they had gathered troops from all directions, reached the position one step ahead, and launched their attack the moment the enemy began crossing the river. Yet the result was that after the enemy crossed, they deployed into battle formation with astonishing speed. And in an instant, their ferocious firepower routed their own mid-crossing assault force.

Watching his men flee back in defeat, Liu Zongmin simply could not fathom it. Even though they had prepared several follow-up waves of troops, looking at the utterly battered cavalrymen before him, that plan had already miscarried. To send more would be mere piecemeal reinforcement — wave after wave crushed by the Ming army.

Li Guo's expression was complicated. By now, within the roving camps, the fearsome reputation of "One-Eye Tiger" had spread far and wide, especially as he grew increasingly mature.

He gazed toward the riverbank and murmured, "So this is the battle strength of the new army. Now many of the court's commanders and marshals imitate that traitor Wang's Shunxiang Army in training... it's the Jingbian Army now. After all, it is different from ordinary Ming troops."

Yuan Zongdi also said, "Marshal Qi's military treatise once spoke of... the upright formation. A thousand hundred men arrayed and advancing. The brave may not rush ahead, the cowardly may not lag behind... that is exactly what we see before us — an upright formation. Truly different from a disorderly mob!"

Watching the Ming army hold its formation and the endless stream of reinforcements crossing the river behind them, the bandits furrowed their brows. Every man felt the thorny difficulty.

In the old days, when they faced Ming armies — after the thirteenth year of Chongzhen — they had generally fought with ease.

Those could hardly be called armies at all: they ate empty salaries, drank their soldiers' blood, were understrength, had broken logistics, feeble combat power, and were riddled with abuses.

When they finally reached the field, their formations were a chaotic mess. Often they would grow panicked and uneasy from a full li away, firing their guns and cannons from afar. By the time the mounted riders charged close, they had barely killed a handful of men or horses — and naturally scattered at the first charge.

Even against Ming armies with somewhat stronger combat power — men like Meng Ruhu and Sun Yingyuan — even without using starving refugees to exhaust them to death, surrounding them with tens of thousands of cavalry would never have made the fighting this agonizing. The rapid improvement of the righteous army's combat strength stood in stark contrast to the early days, when they often numbered tens or even hundreds of thousands, yet were frequently routed by a few thousand Ming soldiers.

Yet now, facing a new army with strict and orderly formations, with commands obeyed and prohibitions observed, it was a colossal headache. They could not even delay their advance.

Hao Yaoqi was deeply indignant. What he loved most was personally leading troops to charge the enemy lines, holding a great banner high to inspire his soldiers to attack. This daring, aggressive style had brought him many successes, and Hao Yaoqi himself always took pride in it.

In his view, there was no formation of the court's new army that could not be broken. The key was daring to fight, daring to attack, and not fearing death.

He said fiercely, "Our righteous army has tens of thousands of riders — are we just going to watch them cross the river with our own eyes? Right now they only have a single battalion..."

"Master Liu, Old Household Head He, why don't we charge again? Concentrate several waves of troops. If one wave cannot break through, then charge several more. Sooner or later we can drive them back into the river — better than standing here like useless cowards gawking! ...Donkey balls, I am willing to be the vanguard and personally lead the troops!"

Among the Ge and Left Five Camps, Geli Yan He Yilong was somewhat stirred. Old Hui Ma Shouying laughed drily. Luan Shiwang Lin Yangcheng advised, "Brother Dayong, do not act rashly, lest you needlessly lose our own brothers. The troops of each camp have followed us for many years. If they are lost, they will not be easy to replace."

Zuo Jinwang He Jin and Gai Shiwang Liu Xiyao also said that caution was needed. As the Pan Masters and Old Household Heads of their respective camps, they had to consider the brothers under them. Moreover, the new army's sharp battle formations and ferocious firepower were plain to see — a frontal assault would bring no benefit.

At this time, the various bands and camps of the peasant army, and the titles among their leaders, were not uniform. Some called them Pan Masters, with Head Managers, Household Heads, or Unit Leaders beneath them. Some divided into several pickets, with positions like Grand Picket Leader, Picket Leader, Grand Picket Head, and Picket Commander. Still others used the term Old Unit Leader, subdivided into Small Unit Leaders and Unit Leaders.

In a great many camps, the leaders were called Old Household Heads, subdivided into Grand Household Heads and Small Household Heads. The Ge and Left Five Camps were like this.

When they urged caution, Hao Yaoqi could do nothing. At this time, each camp was relatively independent; the various leaders did not control one another, nor was there any chain of command. Although the Ge and Left Five Camps honored the Chuang camp as paramount, that did not mean the men of the Chuang camp could order the men of Ge and Left about.

The camps split and merged from time to time, each fighting on its own. Even when allied, their mutual relations were extremely loose. All matters were handled primarily through consultation. On this battlefield, there were over forty thousand riders, and the Ge and Left Five Camps made up the greater part. Since the men of the Ge and Left Five Camps did not agree, Hao Yaoqi could only glare helplessly.

Among the Chuang camp generals, few agreed with Hao Yaoqi's opinion. After all, the new army's combat strength was plain to see — and it was this kind of powerfully lethal firelock battle formation.

Back in the day, the Shunxiang Army had risen precisely on such gun-and-cannon battle formations. After the new army was trained, the most successfully learned element was precisely this formation, which most easily concentrated the power of Eastern Route firearms. The righteous army had attacked it several times before, and each time had returned with broken wings. Fear lingered in every man's heart.

Liu Zongmin merely frowned as he watched the Ming army's side. Because of the Mount Shangluo affair, he actually harbored considerable resentment toward Hao Yaoqi. Even though Hao Yaoqi had tried his utmost to prove his loyalty to the Chuang camp, it was very difficult to change the impression in Liu Zongmin's heart.

Liu Zongmin paid little heed to Hao Yaoqi's words. He gazed toward the riverbank. After one battalion of Ming troops had routed their own men, they had formed eight ranks and stood firm on the bank. That kind of imposing manner made his heart secretly quail. It was very clear that even if they adopted Hao Yaoqi's suggestion, they would gain no advantage.

He said, "Let the government troops cross the river. Against this kind of firearms formation, attacking will only needlessly cost our own brothers. However, they still have to march on. After a while, they will surely deploy that dispersed formation again. When that happens, we will follow the earlier strategy — concentrate thirty thousand riders and launch a fierce assault!"

The facts had proven that against the new army's grand square formation and firelock battle formation, they could gain no advantage. But Liu Zongmin and the others had never witnessed the power of Cao Bianjiao's dispersed formation. How could they be content without probing it?

With their tens of thousands of troops, if they could not even delay the government troops' marching pace, how would they face the Chuang King when the time came?

Liu Zongmin's words received strong support from the Ge and Left Five Camps. The men decided to follow the earlier agreement: once the government troops deployed their dispersed formation, they would concentrate their forces and launch fierce attacks in several successive waves, determined to tie down the government troops' pace and await the arrival of their own main force.

The group's decision infuriated Hao Yaoqi. He thought to himself darkly, "If you dare not fight a tough battle, how can you stop Little Cao? A dispersed formation — is it really so easy to strike?"

Vice General Sun led the new army in securing the formation on the opposite bank. Cao Bianjiao seized the opportunity and immediately ordered the remaining new troops of Yutian Garrison to cross the river.

At the same time, the central army quickly repaired that destroyed wooden bridge. They laid the simple ladders carried by the army's bridge-building horses across the two ends, then felled some trees and laid down planks. Even certain chevaux-de-frise from the army were dismantled and put to use. With some care, passing the army's baggage mules and horses was not a problem.

An endless stream of the great army crossed the river, making the position on the opposite bank ever more secure. Cao Bianjiao led the remaining cavalry to guard the rear, and also took responsibility for retrieving those ladders and planks after the main army had crossed, to keep them for the next use.

The army's wounded also crossed via the bridge along with the baggage train. They supported one another, hobbling along. Even for one inured to the sight of life and death, seeing these wounded soldiers, Cao Bianjiao could not help but feel a shadow fall over his heart.

When the two garrisons had first marched south, they had over ten thousand infantry and cavalry. Apart from those who had fled at the very start, they had now suffered no small number of dead and wounded.

The wounded were the fortunate ones — they might yet have a chance to return to their hometowns. As for those who had fallen in battle, some of their bodies could not even be found. Those that could be found could not be carried home; they had to be buried on the spot, their clothing and personal effects gathered to build a cenotaph mound back home.

"They are all loyal and brave soldiers. We cannot let their bodies lie exposed in the wilderness. If possible, in the future, we must retrieve the bones of our fallen soldiers, so they may receive offerings of incense and fire."

Cao Bianjiao thought silently to himself.

In these times, the concept of resting in peace through burial was deeply held. Even if it was the enemy, if one could gather and bury their bones, anyone — no matter who — would praise it as a righteous army.

The most vicious act was to grind bones and scatter ashes. The most venomous curse was to damn someone to leave no bones behind.

Cao Bianjiao had heard that the Marquis of Yongning, Wang Dou, had by now retrieved all the bones of his soldiers who had fallen in battle abroad and buried them on Mount Fushan at Shunxiang Fort. Below the mountain stood the Shrine for Honoring the Loyal. Every day, those who came to pay homage were like clouds. The heroic spirits of the officers and men received daily offerings of incense and fire — and this was one of the guarantees of the Jingbian Army's formidable combat strength.

He himself had not yet done enough.

Cao Bianjiao sighed with emotion. The more he studied, the more he felt his own inadequacy.

Moreover, he found that replenishing the new army was not easy. He did not know how Wang Dou managed to grow his forces the more he fought.

At the same time, the Chuang bandits also grew their forces the more they fought. Each time the government troops annihilated them until only a few riders fled, they would sweep back with even greater momentum, easily mustering hundreds of thousands, even a million bandits. What had become of the Great Ming?

The wind had died down for a while, then gradually picked up again. Cao Bianjiao spurred his horse to stand beside a withered tree. Dead leaves shook down from all directions, then were sent dancing everywhere by the wind.

Watching these dead leaves rustle and snap in the wind, Cao Bianjiao suddenly felt a stir in his heart. He felt as if he were like these dead leaves — drifting, unmoored, not knowing how long he must fight on, nor what fate awaited him and this army.

All around was cold, bleak, and desolate. Cao Bianjiao suddenly felt a sense of loneliness and chill. But at once a voice surged within his heart: Though they be a multitude, I shall go forth! I will not give up!

He spurred his fine horse, charged into the river, and entered the position on the opposite bank. His personal guards and standard-bearer, holding high the commander's banner bearing the character "Cao," followed close behind.

"Ten thousand victories!"

"Ten thousand victories!"

The arrival of Cao Bianjiao's great banner on the opposite bank drew a tide of cheers from the soldiers, celebrating yet another victory while paying tribute to the man who had led them to it. Cao Bianjiao raised his cavalry lance in response to the soldiers' salute and bellowed, "Long live the Great Ming!"

The soldiers responded with even greater fervor, cheering as they raised their dense forest of firearms, banners, and flags layer upon layer.

The impassioned war songs merged into an ocean.

"How can you say we have no robes? We share the same outer garment. The king raises his army; we repair our dagger-axes and lances, and share the same foe. How can you say we have no robes? We share the same inner garment. The king raises his army; we repair our lances and halberds, and rise together. How can you say we have no robes? We share the same lower garment. The king raises his army; we repair our armor and weapons, and march together..."

Amid the singing, Vice Regional Commander Sun of Zunhua Garrison loudly reported to Cao Bianjiao: in the river-crossing battle, they had killed and wounded several hundred bandit men and horses; the dead and wounded horses were kept for army provisions. Vice Regional Commander Sun asked how to deal with those wounded bandits who were not yet dead.

Cao Bianjiao looked across this position — everywhere, in utter disorder, lay dead and wounded bandit cavalry. Some who had been struck by lead bullets lay groaning in agony on the ground, and some kept letting out heart-rending howls.

Cao Bianjiao's expression turned cold: "Rebellious traitors — every man has the right to slay them. Kill them all!"

Soon, the low moans and heart-rending cries on the position were gone. Amid the still-fervent singing, Cao Bianjiao ordered a formation change, advancing in concave-convex formation.

He cast a cold glance ahead. Several li away, dense bandit cavalry had already gathered like clouds. Aside from small bands of roving riders on the periphery, the tens of thousands of mounted bandits besieging him had likely all assembled there. A great battle probably awaited, but what fear had he?

Amid the war songs, the army formation advanced once more. The battle line, formed by dozens of small square formations linked together, surged forward endlessly like ocean waves.

In this battle, Yang Shaofan led the New Army camp at the front, with Vice Regional Commander Sun at the rear. Besides the cavalry and baggage train in the center, relay riders constantly galloped between the small formations. The concave-convex formation granted local flexibility, but flag signals could not convey many complex battle situations, so Cao Bianjiao ordered the use of relay riders to transmit commands.

The troops advanced, their steps powerful and uniform, keeping time with the drums and music.

The New Army's drum music featured heavy drumbeats, accompanied by stirring gongs, interspersed with the bili (a type of wind instrument combining the strengths of flute and vertical flute), melodious and brisk, giving the marching men a surging sense of fervor. Rich in rhythm, it made them march with greater strength.

This was learned from the Jingbian Army. In Ming army formations, many would take ten steps for each beat of the war drum, but the Jingbian Army and the various garrison New Armies kept their steps unceasing.

The orderly marching steps, full of power, also made the soldiers feel that all around them were brothers-in-arms, that they were not fighting alone, that they had support. How can you say we have no robes? We share the same outer garment!

The two sides drew steadily closer, and closer.

On the bandit camp side, as they watched the Ming army formation pressing relentlessly toward them, every man's expression was different.

Liu Zongmin shaded his brow with his hand, blocking the afternoon sun. He looked toward that now somewhat familiar battle formation. The reflected gleam of their weapons shimmered like rippling scales of light. Their formation — resolute, strict, precise — was indeed a formidable foe.

And that strange dispersed formation.

In the earlier harassment, though small squads had probed it, they had been unable to discern the characteristics of this formation. Now they were about to launch a mass assault — what would come of it?

Yet, there was no choice.

Looking around, on all sides were dense, layered masses of cavalry riders, with every kind of banner and flag stretching beyond sight.

The men of the bandit camp exchanged glances and all nodded.

Liu Zongmin abruptly drew his weapon and shouted fiercely: "In this battle, advance and do not retreat! He who turns back — let the one behind him slay him..." (To be continued...)