Chapter 795: Ascending the Tableland

Li Chuang and his men were no strangers to Tongguan. Back during the battle of Nanyuan, Li Zicheng had been soundly defeated here by Sun Chuanting, fleeing into the Shangluo Mountains with only eighteen riders left.

Tongguan’s terrain is crisscrossed with ravines and dotted with tablelands, making it easy to set ambushes. The five-li passage from Jindou Pass to the east city gate is especially narrow and perilous, hugging the source of Mount Niutou to the south. If a large army enters and falls into an ambush, they could cry to heaven and earth and receive no answer.

Li Chuang was himself an expert at laying ambushes, so he was naturally meticulous and cautious. Beforehand, he sent out waves of scout riders ahead of the main force to comb every ravine and fold of the Tongguan tablelands.

The scouts reported that on the Niutou Tableland, Ming cavalry scouts were aggressively driving them off. Li Zicheng judged that Sun Chuanting must have set ambushes around the Niutou Tableland, so the Jindou Pass route was impassable.

Therefore, that afternoon, after his vast cavalry and infantry army streamed continuously across the stone bridge at Xiyu Ancient East Gully on the Henan-Shaanxi border, they all encamped on the flat plain five li from Jindou Pass, north and east of the Niutou Tableland.

This plain bordered the Yellow River to the north. Though it had terraced tableland levels, the elevation differences were generally small, making it nearly a single level expanse, suitable for encampment. There were quite a few villages on the tableland plain, but now, of course, not a soul was in sight. The hilly earth tablelands along the riverbank were also fully controlled to secure the army’s water supply.

Not only that, Li Zicheng also ordered bridges built over the East Gully. A single stone bridge could not meet the needs of the army’s heavy baggage train.

Li Zicheng’s main camp was set in an abandoned stockade called Shapo, situated between two gently sloping tablelands to the north and south. After making camp, Li Zicheng took his generals and advisors to survey the terrain. They first observed Jindou Pass and frowned in unison.

“Damned donkey balls, a death trap like this — no matter how many of our righteous army go in, that many will die. We absolutely cannot take this route.”

A voice like a thunderclap rang out. It was Liu Zongmin. Like Li Zicheng, he wore a white felt hat and a blue riding tunic, draped with his bloodstained cloak. A pair of swords hung at his waist.

As Li Zicheng’s right-hand man, after years of facing death together, Liu Zongmin could tell at a glance what terrain was fit for battle and what was not.

“Master Liu is right,” said Liu Xiyao, General of the Right Battalion. “Not only is the stretch from Jindou Pass to Tongguan’s east gate easy to ambush, but even if we get inside, the terrain around the east and north gates is narrow and treacherous. We can’t deploy our troops, so there’s no point talking about assaulting the city.”

Liu Xiyao, formerly a commander of the Left Ge Five Battalions, had been given an important post as General after joining Li Chuang’s camp, and he sought to prove himself on every occasion.

Yang Shaofan’s expression was equally grave. In terrain like this, his musket battalions would also be unable to perform to their potential.

“But this is the only official road west. If we don’t take this route, transporting the heavy baggage elsewhere will be difficult.”

Tian Jianxiu spoke up. His duties included overseeing the entire army’s logistics, so he naturally had to consider the problem of moving the baggage train.

This official road controlled east-west traffic. Though there were other paths, they were like village-level roads of later ages, only connecting hamlets. For long-distance travel and reaching major cities, one had to take the proper national road. Even if a side path was passable, it often meant untold wasted detours, and much of the road surface was unsuitable for large baggage trains.

Transporting heavy baggage placed high demands on the road surface. If cannons had to be towed, the road needed to be even better — just as tanks cannot advance along field ridges.

Everyone in Li Chuang’s camp understood the importance of roads for baggage. Gao Yigong mused, “Why don’t we have our righteous army seize the Niutou Tableland and deploy troops along the Loess Lane slope? Then we won’t have to fear government troops laying ambushes.”

Gao Yigong now held the military post of General of Martial Might in the Field Marshal’s Personal Standard, commanding the main veteran camp troops. He held high rank and great authority. In the original history, this post had belonged to Zhang Nai, but Zhang Nai had been killed by the Shunxiang Army during the battle of Luoyang years ago.

Everyone gazed toward the Niutou Tableland. Looking up from below, the tableland resembled a continuous mountain ridge. This tableland lay south of the plain, stretching from east to west after crossing the Xiyu Ancient East Gully on the Henan-Shaanxi border, extending all the way to the edge of Yuanwang Gully.

There were many small paths leading up the tableland, and it was easy for cavalry and infantry to ascend. This could be considered a plan.

But Li Guo said, “Southeast of Tongguan is Mount Qilin. The mountain tableland is the city wall, and the city wall is the mountain tableland, with deep ravines at its foot, and the layout is tightly guarded. Even if we get past this five-li official road, whether troops or baggage, it will be very difficult to bypass the city wall and reach the south side of Tongguan. If we can’t deploy our troops, assaulting the city will still be futile.”

Everyone in Li Chuang’s camp knew Tongguan well, and with the steady stream of scout reports, they had the terrain and layout of Tongguan imprinted on their minds. No matter how they looked at it, this route was impassable.

Liu Zongmin frowned and said, “It seems we can only go up onto the tableland. Charge across from Yuanwang Gully, reach the Nanyuan, and only there can our righteous army’s tide of men be deployed.”

Tian Jianxiu frowned deeply. He dared not imagine how many logistical difficulties would be caused by going up and down these tablelands, crisscrossed with ravines — especially when the cannons arrived, how would they cross the deep Yuanwang Gully?

While the generals conferred, the civilian advisors beside them remained silent. Tactical deployment of this sort was not their forte. Any random junior commander among them would be more skilled. Their strength lay in strategy, so they held their tongues to avoid being needlessly slighted.

“Let’s look around first.”

Li Zicheng made his decision. Escorted by a thousand elite riders, they galloped beneath the tableland and finally chose to ascend at an abandoned village called Xibei Stockade.

Though there were many small paths, only this one was slightly gentler and easier to travel.

The group proceeded along the path. The ascent could not be called steep, but it was winding and twisting, coiling bend after bend.

On one or both sides, sheer tableland walls stretched upward, thickly woven with wild grass and vines, jagged and uneven, dotted here and there with a few low mountain jujube trees and mountain dogwoods. The exposed earthen walls seemed as if they had been that way for a thousand years, exuding an indescribable sense of desolation, as if steeped in millennia of historical vicissitude — a weightiness that pressed heavily on the heart.

The road surface was very dry. Whenever a gust of wind passed, yellow dust rose, carrying a parching heat. The road was not wide; in many places it was so narrow that even a wheelbarrow could barely pass. Broken gullies cut across it here and there, making the surface even more uneven.

This was simply how Tongguan was. Long-term water erosion, combined with the high permeability and subsidence-prone nature of the loess, and a millennia-long lack of vegetation protection, had left even the tableland slopes fragmented and shattered, crisscrossed with ravines, increasing the difficulty of passage.

Tian Jianxiu frowned, pondering that unless the road was widened or leveled, the heavy baggage could only be carried up the tableland on shoulders and backs. In particular, the cannons could not be hauled up.

At last, the party reached the tableland surface. The vast, boundless expanse of the great tableland before them struck a spiritual awe.

This Niutou Tableland, also called the East Tableland by locals, was even larger in area than the South Tableland. The terrain sloped from high in the north to low in the south. Cut and split by the Yellow River valley, Yuanwang Gully, and Tie Gully, the loess platform tableland resembled an ox’s head, hence its name. It was part of the dry tableland. Though there were a few garrison forts, soldiers and civilians alike had worried about drinking water for generations. A local saying went: “No daughter is married off to Niutou Tableland; drinking water is harder than drinking oil.”

Tian Jianxiu was again troubled inwardly. He knew a great deal about Tongguan, and with the scouts’ reports, he understood the conditions on the Niutou Tableland. Although the ceaselessly rushing Yellow River lay just below the ox’s mouth, its high, upturned mouth could not reach the water. Local residents and livestock relied on a clear stream flowing down from the Hao Fork Valley channel for their water.

With the current drought, the water in the valley channel was dwindling daily. If an army of several hundred thousand encamped here, how could the supply possibly suffice? They would have to fetch and carry water from the deep, steep Tie Gully, or even from the Yellow River’s edge, making logistics even more difficult.

Setting aside Tian Jianxiu’s concerns, Li Zicheng rode to the edge of the tableland and simply gazed into the distance.

The vast, mighty army already covered the plain below the tableland. Countless camp laborers sweated profusely, busily digging trenches and setting up camp. Tents of every kind stretched all the way to the Yellow River’s edge to the north.

Along the official road east to Wenxiang, a continuous stream of the great army still hurried forward. In particular, a tide-like procession of carts, wheelbarrows, mules, horses, and donkeys carrying baggage flowed without end. Mounted troops galloped back and forth, maintaining communications — a scene of soaring momentum.

Sounds of admiration came from the generals beside him. Li Zicheng was also brimming with pride. The view from this tableland was indeed vast. Not just the Yellow River, but even the Wei River and the confluence of the two could be faintly seen. Li Zicheng mused that the main camp should be established up on the tableland, commanding the heights to control the overall situation, while the plain below could serve as the assembly point for the baggage train.

The East Tableland was generally flat and broad, except at its two ends, especially near Tie Gully at the southern end, where ravines abounded. There were many “yaoxian” landforms — those steep, precipitous deep gullies, or sheer cliffs facing each other, with straight, barely winding slopes on either side. The Shaanxi people called these yaoxian.

When Li Zicheng’s party went to inspect the edge of Tie Gully, they passed by one such yaoxian. The slope was not only steep but also quite long, making the deep gully below seem like a thin line.

The party also passed by some ridges and loess knolls, spending a considerable amount of time.

The scouring of the rivers had turned the plain into individual tablelands, and many gullies had further divided the tablelands into numerous ridges. The ridges were not very wide, generally forming long strips, but the gullies beneath them were quite deep. People on two ridges could sing to each other, but to meet, they would have to descend into the gully and climb the other ridge, taking half a day.

Further erosion on the ridges created more gullies, which cut the ridges into segments. Each segment was surrounded by gullies on all sides, leaving only a solitary high mound of earth standing alone — this was a loess knoll. Traversing these ridges and knolls was no simple matter, but with the terrain around Tie Gully so crisscrossed with ravines, there was no other way to reach the gully’s edge.

The garrison forts on the East Tableland were all deserted, leaving only empty earthen walls. Even the wheat, not yet at harvest season, had been cut and taken away, leaving bare fields and barren stalks.

According to reports from the scouts, Sun Chuanting had implemented a scorched-earth policy locally and was heavily fortifying the western end of Yuanwang Gully, with strict security. The execution of He Renlong had initially pleased Li Chuang’s camp, but subsequent reports revealed that Sun Chuanting was vigorously training new troops there and was now defending Tongguan to the death. He was no easy opponent.

Li Chuang’s forward outposts had already seized several military forts and garrison forts abandoned by the Ming at the eastern end of the East Tableland, such as Liujiawa and Beitou Fort. However, some beacon towers along the western end by Yuanwang Gully were still in government hands. Using these beacon towers and their intimate knowledge of the local terrain, their scouts appeared and vanished like ghosts, constantly raiding Li Chuang’s scout riders, causing considerable headaches.

After inspecting Tie Gully, Li Zicheng and his men concluded that although this gully was difficult to traverse, it could provide some water, and troops could be stationed on the opposite tableland at places like Daizi Camp and Xiyao Fort to provide mutual support and cover. It was a location of some importance. As they proceeded further west toward Yuanwang Gully, they encountered a skirmish between scout riders.

As they advanced, the sound of hoofbeats rose in the distance. Soon, several dozen Ming cavalry appeared within sight. They advanced at an unhurried pace, swaggering boldly. Though Li Zicheng’s side had over a thousand riders, with more mounted troops nearby, the Ming riders showed not the slightest fear.

Li Zicheng and his men could faintly make out their attire: uniformly gleaming helmet-brimmed caps. Some carried long muskets and wore fine long armored coats. The majority wore short armored coats, seemingly armed with pistols and sabers, with arm guards. The vital areas of their horses were also covered with armor plates for protection. Their every movement exuded a fierce, battle-hardened air.

When Li Zicheng’s mounted troops advanced to drive them off, the Ming musketeers on horseback opened fire from a long distance of fifty to sixty paces — while still mounted — and their targets were all elite troops.

Some fired and then fled, while others reloaded on horseback. When Li Zicheng’s riders charged within thirty paces, the Ming pistol-armed cavalry opened fire in a continuous volley.

Most of Li Chuang’s mounted troops were trained in archery, but few could actually shoot from horseback. Even those who could wielded weak bows with little threat. In mounted combat, they were at a considerable disadvantage in close-quarters fighting. The casualty exchange ratio made Li Zicheng himself frown deeply.

The Ming pistol cavalry seemed to carry several pistols each, delivering fierce firepower. Those hit were either killed or maimed. Their close-combat skills were also formidable, and they coordinated seamlessly, always finding openings to gang up on a single opponent. The long-musket cavalry would occasionally fire a sniper shot.

Their horses were uniformly sturdy and fat, running fast. Even when retreating, the pistol cavalry would occasionally turn and fire a shot, preventing Li Zicheng’s men from pursuing too closely. In this brief skirmish, Li Zicheng’s side suffered over a dozen casualties, while the enemy seemed to have only one wounded.

Had Li Zicheng’s side not possessed overwhelming numbers, this skirmish might have resulted in even greater losses. Seeing the grave expressions on everyone’s faces, Gao Yigong said, “These are troops from Sun Chuanting’s Viceroy Personal Battalion. Some of their scouts carry long muskets, some carry short ones, and all can fire from horseback. They are quite formidable, but fortunately, their numbers are small.”

The scouting and arrangements within the Chuang camp were handled by Gao Yigong. When the camp's mounted scouts probed Tongguan, the men they encountered most often were these troops from Sun Chuanting's Viceroy Personal Battalion. These men were also extremely fierce; they could fire both long and short muskets from horseback, making the camp's scouts fear them like tigers, and so they took careful note.

Li Zicheng also furrowed his brow: "Since when could long muskets be fired from horseback?"

His own commandery's musket battalion, though every man was also equipped with a horse, did not possess a single firelock that could be fired from horseback. The main reason was that the recoil was too strong; the moment one fired, one was very likely to fall off the horse.

He asked the musket battalion's chief scout Yang Shaofan: "Brother Yang, do you know what these long muskets that can be fired from horseback are called?"

Yang Shaofan shook his head. He had spent many years in the Ming army, and aside from hand cannons and three-eyed guns, he had never heard of such a long musket that could be fired from horseback. However, he had a vague feeling that those men might be troops from the Jingbian Army.

He had heard that Sun Chuanting was training troops in Shaanxi and had received substantial aid from the Xuanfu Garrison. Could it be that the Jingbian Army had also aided Sun Chuanting? He just did not know how many troops they had sent, which stirred worry in his heart. His musket battalion was fine against ordinary Ming troops, but against the Jingbian Army, they would not be enough.

The men of the Chuang camp also frowned. The government troops had more and more new weapons, and now long muskets that could be fired from horseback had appeared. Only Liu Zongmin was dismissive: "What is there to fear? Our righteous army has vast numbers. Can a few sharp firearms in the hands of a handful of government troops change the overall situation?"

Li Zicheng thought about it and agreed. The Ming army's several new battalions all used sharp eastern firearms, and in the end, were they not destroyed by their own side's human wave? These Ming scout riders using the new long muskets could only harass them. If their own superior cavalry surged forward, they would have to retreat. Indeed, they could not change the overall situation.

His worried mood flashed by and was gone, and he no longer took the matter to heart.