Chapter 843: The Assault Intensifies

The roar of cannons and battle cries shook the countryside in all directions. By the hour of wei, outside all thirteen city gates of the inner and outer walls, bandit cavalry units were galloping and whooping.

And outside the eastern and southern gates — Dongzhimen and Zhaoyangmen of the inner city, Guangqumen and Yongdingmen of the outer city — bandit troops and horses were massed in dense, dark swarms, stretching endlessly.

They formed up nearby. The areas around the houses of each gate suburb and the open fields beyond the walls were everywhere packed with men. The wheat shoots in the fields near the walls and the vegetables in the garden plots had long since been trampled flat without the slightest courtesy.

Outside Zhaoyangmen, large numbers of Right Battalion troops in red uniforms were arrayed, and the banners they raised were also a vivid scarlet. At that moment, in the outer suburb of Zhaoyangmen, a large group of Right Battalion Shun troops were carrying long ladders. They charged along the main street of the suburb toward the arrow tower, intending to cross the stone bridge over the moat and press up against the city wall.

Unexpectedly, from the arrow tower came a thunderous roar. The red-barbarian cannons fired a fierce volley, and the screaming cannonballs tore into the crowd. A wild dance of blood and gore erupted, accompanied by severed arms and legs flying through the air. Then, amid wails for fathers and mothers, the Right Battalion Shun troops who were lucky enough to survive abandoned their long ladders, turned, and fled, cursing their parents for giving them only two legs.

Liu Xiyao, the Right Battalion Zhi General standing at a spot in the gate suburb, frowned. The city gates were not easy to assault. It seemed they still needed to fill the moat; attacking the walls at various points was the better plan.

Zhaoyangmen was the gate through which tribute grain entered and left, earning it the name "Grain Gate." It was also called the "Rare Goods Gate," for not only did grain carts mostly pass this way, but rare treasures from all over also frequently came through. Therefore, the houses of the gate suburb here stood row upon row, and the main street of the suburb was also very broad.

The road surface was even paved with blue stone slabs. The power of cannonballs striking it was truly unimaginable.

Moreover, this main street of the Zhaoyangmen outer suburb faced directly toward the arrow tower. When soldiers charged up along the main street, they were packed densely together. Every time a cannonball swept through, it carved bloody furrows of flesh, a sight too horrible to behold.

Zhaoyangmen had an enormous barbican, and the gate entrance was set into the side of the barbican. Although a stone bridge over the moat made passage easy, even if one were lucky enough to survive the firepower of the front-facing arrow tower and run to the gate, one would then face a crossfire from both the barbican and the city wall. The officers and men attacking the gate suffered terrible casualties.

At this moment, a fine drizzle hung in the air. Although the power of bows and arquebuses on the wall was greatly reduced — often failing to fire or shoot far — the terrain near the city gate was narrow, so the power they could still bring to bear was no small matter.

In particular, the stone bridge over the moat was not large, only a few paces wide. When dense ranks of soldiers charged across the bridge, men were frequently jostled off into the moat. The Shun army's numerical advantage was fundamentally impossible to deploy.

"Attention, the bandit foot troops are about to begin their assault."

In the middle of the hour of wei, atop Yongdingmen, Fu Yingchong suddenly noticed movement among the bandits over in the gate suburb.

By this time, the slanted gate suburb of Yongdingmen had already been blasted into a field of broken bricks and tiles. The houses especially close to the gate were mostly reduced to rubble. Having learned their lesson, the bandit artillery units attacking Yongdingmen no longer dared to shelter near the houses. They dispersed into the open fields, continuously bombarding the arrow tower and the city wall.

Given the accuracy of cannons at this time, it was naturally very difficult to hit those gun emplacements, which looked like mere specks to the naked eye. So Fu Yingchong and his artillerymen could do nothing but ignore them. Fortunately, they had the sturdy city wall as cover. As long as they were not extremely unlucky, the bandit cannons posed little threat to them — at most, a bit of psychological pressure.

But now, as Fu Yingchong looked out, he saw large numbers of bandits creeping forward under the cover of the ruins. They were spread out very widely, clearly fearful of the threat from the cannons on the wall.

Looking at their objective, it was unmistakably the Yongdingmen city gate that he himself was in charge of.

A heavily armored soldier spoke a few words in Fu Yingchong's ear. Fu Yingchong nodded and shouted: "All of you listen to Master Fu's orders! Bows, hold your fire for now. All Rumilu arquebusiers, concentrate over here! In a moment, we'll fire in three volleys. Don't fire until I give the word... Also, each man pick one target, don't fire wildly... Prepare the nine-headed bird guns, the hundred-shot guns, and the other large arquebuses. Fire them after the Rumilu volleys..."

He shrieked out his orders and arrangements. Because of the fine drizzle, the power of the various archers' bows was greatly diminished, so Fu Yingchong had the bows hold fire for now. Although firearms like arquebuses and Rumilu guns also suffered from misfires due to dampness, as long as they did fire and hit their mark, their power was still guaranteed.

At this moment, Fu Yingchong's prestige was quite high. As soon as he finished giving orders, the assembled soldiers immediately began howling: "We follow Commander Fu's lead!"

"Kill all the bandits!"

While Fu Yingchong made his arrangements here, large numbers of Shun infantry in yellow uniforms continued to creep forward. Ahead of them, a large force of archers and firearms troops provided cover, while the men behind carried scaling ladders. The ladders were extremely long, for the walls of the capital were too high; ordinary scaling ladders simply could not reach the top.

They advanced in silence, climbing onto the slanted official road, then following the path along the moat for a long stretch. Soon they were not far from the somewhat uneven stone bridge over the moat.

The capital had dense flows of people, and every gate was equipped with an arrow tower and a barbican. The gate entrances were mostly built into the sides of the barbicans. If an enemy came, they would suffer crossfire from two sides, a tight defense. Therefore, the moats at each gate did not have drawbridges but were instead spanned by specially built stone bridges.

The moat at Yongdingmen also had a stone bridge. However, the gate entrance here was actually opened directly beneath the arrow tower, a consequence of the fact that the Great Ming's enemies mostly came from the north.

When the bandits were not far from the stone bridge over the moat, they suddenly let out a battle cry and began their shouting charge. At the same time, those covering archers and firearms troops also opened fire with their arquebuses and loosed their arrows. For a moment, arrows flew in profusion and the reports of arquebuses rang out loudly.

Fu Yingchong watched the bandits outside the city nervously. Hearing something the armored soldier beside him said, he shouted: "First rank of Rumilu arquebusiers, fire!"

The arquebusiers leaning against the crenellations on both sides of the arrow tower, as well as those at the barbican crenellations, who were equally tense, heard the order and immediately fired their first volley. Their gunpowder smoke merged into a single cloud, a dense white haze billowing up. They had concentrated over two hundred Rumilu arquebuses. Their single volley instantly cut down nearly a hundred of the densely charging bandits in a clattering heap.

"Second rank, fire!"

Another fierce volley rang out. Even thicker white smoke erupted from the crenellations. Another large swath of the charging bandits collapsed with a clatter. Those struck by bullets rolled on the ground, screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Third rank, fire!"

The defenders at the crenellations fired yet another volley. This stretch of wall crenellations had long been blanketed by dense gunpowder smoke. As they fired their volley again, flashes of firelight could be seen flickering within the white haze. Then, across the moat, even more bandit soldiers fell to the ground in unbearable agony. The pain of being shot made them roll on the ground, struggling with all their might.

After the defenders' three volleys, the bandit troops charging toward the stone bridge were nearly wiped out. The bank of the moat was covered with groaning, suffering men. The wounded and the dead lay in swaths.

Fu Yingchong saw that the remaining bandit soldiers were somewhat at a loss, though some still rushed onto the stone bridge. He barked: "Hundred-shot guns, nine-headed bird guns, all fire at that stone bridge!"

Several hundred-shot guns and nine-headed bird guns were mounted on the barbican crenellations. Upon hearing the order, the chief gunners of those hundred-shot guns rotated the vertical rods, aiming sideways at the stone bridge. The assistants beside them touched their firing cords to the touchholes. With a thunderous roar, long plumes of gunpowder smoke spewed forth.

Amid brilliant flames, nearly a hundred large and small projectiles from each gun scrambled out of the barrels and sprayed toward the bandits at the stone bridge.

A mist of blood surged wildly. The projectiles struck the stone bridge, sending up streams of sparks. Blood arrows continuously spurted from the bodies of the bandit soldiers who had charged onto the bridge, and then, their bodies convulsing, they collapsed and lay askew upon it. The hundred-shot guns fired one after another, and soon the narrow bridge surface was piled with corpses, lying helter-skelter, blood flowing in gurgling streams.

A few bandits carrying scaling ladders, their bodies and faces covered in blood, tumbled into the moat beside them. The long scaling ladders also toppled into the river water, one end still resting on the bridge, bobbing up and down with the current.

"Bang!" A nine-headed bird gun belched a dense burst of flame. Amid the rolling smoke, several bandits near the stone bridge threw themselves to the ground, their bodies riddled with bloody holes, rolling on the ground and wailing piteously...

Behind a ruin in the gate suburb, the banners of the Mountain Patrol Battalion were arrayed. Now serving as veteran camp troops, they could comfortably supervise the battle and watch; the fighting was mostly the outer camp's affair. Beside a broken wall, Old Hu was cautiously peeking toward the city wall. Watching the battle raging above and below the wall, Old Hu clicked his tongue and said, "Which hero is defending the city, to be so ferocious?"

At the beginning of the hour of shen, the bandit assault on the capital grew more urgent. Now, not only the several eastern and southern gates, but even the western gates — Guanganmen, Fuchengmen, and Xizhimen — were all under attack by bandits. Wang Chengen and Li Guozhen, the two men in charge of the city's defense, patrolled everywhere, exhausted from rushing about.

With the thunder of cannons and arquebuses rising from all sides, everyone inside and outside the capital was stricken with panic and terror. The main streets were already empty of people. Everyone had shut themselves inside their homes, their legs trembling as they prayed to gods and Buddhas, begging for safety for themselves and their families.

Inside and outside the Wumen gate, it was equally deserted. However, Fan Jingwen, Zhou Fengxiang, Ma Shiqi, and others were still on duty, waiting to attend court. Since court had been dismissed and the situation was urgent, they gathered at the entrance of the hall to talk.

At that moment, Li Guozhen, the Count of Xiangcheng, who had been ordered to supervise the capital battalions defending the city, suddenly galloped up on horseback. In the damp, cold weather, his clothes were soaked with sweat. When he dismounted, his belt even came loose, to the astonishment of all present.

At this, a palace attendant stepped forward to rebuke Li Guozhen. Li Guozhen sighed and said, "What time is it now? Even if ruler and ministers wish to see each other, there are not many chances left."

Li Guozhen was soon summoned to the side hall. The Chongzhen Emperor came out to meet him and asked urgently, "How goes the defense of the city?"

Li Guozhen suddenly knelt and prostrated himself on the ground. He wept as he reported: "The soldiers defending the city refuse to give their all. Whip one man to make him rise, and another lies down again just as before. Your humble minister is at his wit's end."

He continued: "Only Fu Yingchong, the defender of Yongdingmen, serves with devotion, having exhausted his family wealth to reward the troops. At the other gates, most are merely pretending to defend against the bandits. They fire empty cannons outward, loading no actual lead shot, merely making noise with gunpowder flames. There are also defenders who do not fire their iron shot downward at the enemy, but shoot upward instead, all hitting empty air, not wounding a single bandit, merely making useless noise."

The Chongzhen Emperor listened, trembling. Tears streamed down his face like rain. He wept and said, "My ministers have failed me to this extent!"

For a moment, the several dozen civil and military officials and palace eunuchs present all clung to each other, wailing and prostrating themselves on the ground, their cries resounding through the hall and its steps.

The Chongzhen Emperor returned to his palace in tears. Li Guozhen galloped away on his horse. The assembled ministers also dispersed.

Back in the Qianqing Palace, the Chongzhen Emperor's tears had not yet dried. His mind and body were utterly exhausted. In his chamber, he hesitated, unable to decide: should he summon Wang Dou? At this moment, it was still possible to send elite troops out of the city to seek aid. After all, the capital's walls were sixty to seventy li long. Though the bandits were numerous, it was impossible for them to completely encircle the city. As long as a messenger could reach Wang Dou...

Under his command, elite soldiers and fierce generals were as numerous as clouds. Not to mention others, his fierce general Han Chao was close at hand. If only a few thousand men came, the defense of the capital would be greatly improved.

It was just that...

Not long after, the Chongzhen Emperor issued several decrees. The first was to immediately promote Fu Yingchong, the Regional Commander of the capital battalions, to Count of Dingcheng.

The second was to order all the eunuchs of the palace, great and small, numbering in the thousands, to mount the walls for defense, and to empty the inner and outer treasuries of three hundred thousand taels of gold to reward the troops.

On that day, among the common people, there were those who wept bitterly and donated gold — some three hundred taels, some four hundred — and each was granted the rank of Embroidered Uniform Guard Battalion Commander.

……

At mid-shen hour, the bandit horde began swarming the walls like ants. Battle cries shook the heavens as wave after tide-like wave of bandits surged toward every section of the capital’s fortifications.

The cannonade grew fiercer. Arrows flew like a skyful of locusts dancing wild; stray shafts fell like rain, ceaselessly dropping into the city. Above and below the walls, arquebus fire crackled in volley after volley, and the smoke from guns and cannon merged with the rain mist into a dense, inseparable fog.

“Boiling filth — pour!”

At Fu Yingchong’s bellow, the defenders on the wall ladled from the great cauldrons of boiling excrement heated atop the battlements and dashed it straight down onto a raised scaling ladder below.

The seething filth cascaded down, flashing a golden-yellow gleam. Then came shrieks of agony from below: some bandits about to scale the wall were drenched by the filth and rolled thrashing on the ground; others, howling, threw themselves into the nearby moat waters.

The bandits’ veteran camp drove their outer battalions to fill sections of the city ditch, and they also rounded up nearby residents, forcing them to carry timber and stone to choke the moat. Before each gate, scaling ladders kept threatening to rise against the walls.

Armored soldiers beside him kept urgently reporting, and Fu Yingchong directed them with desperate effort. Suddenly he spotted another scaling ladder leaning close and roared, “Over there, over there — bring the wolf-fang rack, quickly!”

He bellowed, and the nearby defenders heard him. They hurriedly pushed the rope winch cart over, aimed it at the ladder, and then several men strained to lift the wolf-fang rack and slam it down onto the ladder. The rope pulley whirred, grinding out creaking groans, even throwing off sparks, and in an instant it reached its limit.

The wolf-fang rack swept from the parapet down to the wall’s base. Bandits clinging to the ladder were swatted away one after another — some spraying blood from their mouths as they flew through the air, then crashing down heavily from the ten-odd-meter-high wall. Struck by the rack, even if they survived they were crippled.

Others plummeted straight down and were pinned beneath the rack, several bodies stacked together and crushed into thin patties of flesh — bones shattered to splinters, internal organs burst. The sight was too ghastly to behold.

The wolf-fang rack was made of hardwood, weighing several hundred jin, immensely thick and broad, its surface studded with iron spikes. Both ends were linked by iron chains to the winch on the wall, so after each strike it could be hauled back up — always a prized defensive weapon. There were also lei-yi-ye logs, likewise prized for city defense, made of round timber and similarly bristling with countless iron spikes.

Another scaling ladder was about to lean against the wall. Fu Yingchong roared, “Ram it away!”

A squad of garrison troops hoisted a massive battering pole. Shouting themselves hoarse, they charged the ladder and rammed it. A thunderous crash — the ladder and the pole locked together, but the ladder could not be toppled at once, because a crowd of bandits below were straining with all their might to hold it steady.

Watching the two sides wrestle to a stalemate, Fu Yingchong bellowed, “Bring the boiling filth over here.”

A defender rushed up holding a ladle of excrement, brimming with seething filth and stinking to high heaven. He thrust the ladle out over the parapet; several arrows whistled past, and he hastily dumped it.

From below rose a chorus of inhuman shrieks. Then the scaling ladder was overturned with a crash, and more piercing screams rang out — plainly some bandits had been crushed beneath the falling ladder.

The bandits pressed their assault urgently. Here at Yongding Gate there was no rampart wall, and the moat’s banks were relatively gentle, more like a lovely stream. Once the bandits filled the ditch, they could charge straight to the foot of the wall.

An armored soldier beside him said something. Fu Yingchong hurriedly leaned out to look: another large wave of bandits had reached the wall, in considerable numbers. He roared, “Fire pots — ready them. Ten-thousand-man bombs — everyone have them in hand.”

Over a dozen porcelain jars filled with fierce oil-fire were held in long-handled iron ladles, each with an external fuse. There were also huge ten-thousand-man bombs, each the size of a human head, with a fuse at one end and a wooden handle at the other. A crowd of defenders gathered on this side, some ladling fire pots, some gripping the bombs, all tensely awaiting Fu Yingchong’s orders.

Fu Yingchong stole another glance outside, then bellowed urgently, “Light!”

Torches were brought at once and touched to the jars each man ladled and the bombs in their hands. Instantly the porcelain jars became fire pots, and the fuses of the ten-thousand-man bombs sizzled rapidly with sparks.

Fu Yingchong roared, “Throw!”

One after another, the fire pots and ten-thousand-man bombs were hurled beyond the wall. Amid the bandits’ terrified shrieks outside, explosions merged into a continuous roar below the wall, accompanied by raging flames leaping high and howls that no longer sounded human.

Especially when the fire pots burst, the sticky, clinging flames shot up fiercely. Once splashed, even if the bandits threw themselves into the moat water, the fire on their bodies kept burning unquenched until they were burned alive — the principle was similar to that of napalm…

Yongding Gate was the bandits’ main point of attack. They swarmed the walls like ants, and the military situation was desperate. Fu Yingchong bellowed orders, racing back and forth, yet his chief energy was still devoted to distributing rewards.

He kept every promise he made, which drove morale at Yongding Gate extremely high.

“Commander Fu! This lowly one has taken a head!”

A common soldier came running excitedly, holding a bandit’s severed head.

Fu Yingchong laughed heartily: “Good! Master Fu keeps his word — reward you fifty silver dollars!”

“Commander Fu, this lowly one thinks he may have killed a bandit.”

“May have? Five silver dollars.”

“Commander Fu, this lowly one shot a bandit dead. Mobile Corps Commander Tian can bear witness.”

“Good brother! Take these fifty silver dollars. Keep fighting — Master Fu will certainly not shortchange you.”

“My lord Count, the silver chests are empty of dollars.”

“Go to the residence and haul more silver. Don’t be afraid — these two years I’ve earned a great deal of money. I’ve also thought it through: a thousand pieces of gold scattered will come back again. Hahahahaha…”

Fu Yingchong emptied his family fortune to reward the troops, and word spread through the capital. Though at this moment every heart harbored its own calculations, none could help but admire Fu Yingchong as a true stout fellow. Many who knew him found it even more unbelievable — this Fu Big-Tooth ordinarily did nothing but loaf around, a typical capital slicker, yet at the critical moment he truly stood apart from the rest.

……

Nightfall slowly descended. The walls of Yongding Gate blazed with light; dense torches burned, and lantern after lantern was hung. Looking across all the capital’s gates, it was the same everywhere. Gazing further into the city’s interior, it was all glittering lamplight, like a vast field of stars in the dark night — only much dimmer than in times past.

Drizzle came in wave after wave; the spring chill bit sharply. Most of the soldiers took shelter from the rain inside the straw sheds, or gathered around campfires to warm themselves.

Near the Yongding Gate tower, a great bonfire blazed. Around it hung a thick aroma of wine and meat, and the area was crowded with defending officers and men, full of laughter and cheerful talk. Bonfire after bonfire stretched away, each likewise ringed with men.

Gathered around the fires, everyone drank and ate meat contentedly. The steaming food drove the chill from their bodies and filled them with ample strength.

“Brothers, all of you, listen to me.”

Fu Yingchong suddenly stood up. He raised a large bowl in his hand, his gaunt face flushed, brimming with high spirits and boundless valor.

The four armored soldiers who never left his side stood silently nearby, as if blending into the darkness.

“Everyone, eat and drink your fill. If it’s not enough, I’ll have the restaurant send more at once. But remember: drink little wine, eat plenty of meat. Once you’ve eaten and drunk well, guard the city well, and fight the bandits well. I give you my word: for every day the bandits attack, I will not let any brother go hungry or cold for a single day. Those who fight well will receive even richer rewards!”

A boiling roar rose from the wall: “Follow Commander Fu and fight the bandits!”

The night deepened. The capital’s walls everywhere still blazed with light, but looking far off toward the bandit camps, beyond the scattered pinpricks of firelight, the space between was thick with flitting shadows, as eerie as a realm of ghosts, chilling the heart.

The night grew darker still. The soldiers guarding the walls relaxed, and gradually drowsiness overtook many of them. One by one they leaned against the parapets and slept beside the bonfires — all except those standing night watch.

The water clock dripped to the fifth watch. Inside the gate tower, Fu Yingchong jolted awake. Was there some movement outside the city?

Just at that moment, a harrowing cry tore through the dark night sky: “Night raid…”

“Shearling bandits.”

“It’s the child soldiers…”

Fu Yingchong started in alarm and hurriedly leaned out from the tower. He saw, at various points along the wall, lithe figures nimbly swarming upward. Iron hooks were flung onto the parapet, and more scaling ladders were leaned against the wall. Then agile forms vaulted from the ladders and over the battlements.

By the firelight, they were unmistakably children of fourteen or fifteen, some even thirteen or fourteen, every pair of eyes brimming with brutality — vicious and utterly devoid of humanity.

Fu Yingchong drew a sharp, cold breath: “Shearling bandits.”

It is said that the bandits used plundered embroidered curtains and bedding to wrap their boy soldiers, galloping them through the markets for sport. These were the ones they always used to lead night assaults on city walls.

The young boys among the bandits were trained in killing and plundering, hardened and fearless of death.

The so-called Child Army were precisely those known as the shearling bandits.