Chapter 891: The Final Day

"Victory!"

Watching the bandit mob scatter and crumble, the rout spreading from the center to both wings, the mountains and plains filled with wails and screams like roaring seas and mountains. Seeing them retreat like the tide, even if Sun Wu were reborn he could not stem this defeat. On Dang'er Ridge, wild celebration erupted.

Crown Prince Zhu Cilang's eyes streamed hot tears. The bandits had finally been defeated. The capital had fallen, his father the Emperor had perished — at last this blood-deep enmity could be avenged.

Shaanxi Provincial Governor Feng Shikong, Ningxia Provincial Governor Li Yukui, Gansu Provincial Governor Lin Rirui and others also had eyes brimming with hot tears. The bandits were routed. The vengeance for their sovereign and father could finally be exacted.

Amid the jubilation, Shaanxi Viceroy Hou Xun was thinking of other matters. He had seen clearly just now: sun-moon-wave banners kept appearing within the bandit ranks. That meant even inside the bandits' main camp, many were internal agents and spies of the Pacification Army.

Wang Dou's management of affairs was truly terrifying and awe-inspiring.

A smile spread across Chen Xinjia's face. The bandits were beaten. Soon the capital could be recovered — no, perhaps it was already recovered. Had they not seen the rockets launching from behind the bandits?

Thus after entering the capital, with Wang Dou's backing, his own position as Senior Grand Secretary would be rock-solid. After all these years, his wish would finally be fulfilled.

Of course, he had heard more or less that Wang Dou was brewing a term-limit system — even the Senior Grand Secretary could serve at most two terms, five years each. But that did not matter. Never mind ten years; if he could just serve five, he could retire to his hometown in glory and contentment.

He also knew that in the future he would become Wang Dou's marionette. So what? Even to be a puppet — looking across the Great Ming, how many men had such qualifications?

Ji Shiwei's face showed a carefree smile. This son-in-law of his, step by step reaching this point, time and again left people gasping in amazement. Now he had crushed the bandits like dry weeds and rotten wood. When the time came to enter the capital, father-in-law and son-in-law joining hands — great things lay ahead.

Over the years he had come to understand his son-in-law's style somewhat: he liked to manipulate from behind the scenes, always letting others take the curses while he reaped the benefits — Du Xun was a perfect example.

He liked to control the key departments of real power, then push others to the front stage. He knew even more that his son-in-law had internally designated Chen Xinjia as Senior Grand Secretary. No matter — let Chen Xinjia do it for five years, then he himself would do it for five or ten. He was quite willing to be that man at the front stage.

Even if he could not, holding a Minister post in one of the Six Ministries was something he had dreamed of before.

Zhong Diaoyang gazed down the mountain and said to Wang Dou with agitation, "Grand General..."

Watching the bandits utterly routed, Wang Dou also felt some excitement in his heart. Looking at the expressions of everyone on Dang'er Ridge, clearly in their minds, whether the bandits could be annihilated was paramount. Yet Wang Dou knew that defeating and destroying the slave-barbarians was even more important.

He also saw the rockets launched from behind the bandits. Clearly the great flanking force had already occupied the capital. The plans and strategies laid out beforehand had all succeeded one by one.

He drew a deep breath, then issued a series of orders:

Li Guangheng's lance cavalry and Wen Fangliang's First-Class Battalion feathered cavalry were to immediately take rockets, coordinate with twenty thousand reserve infantry, sweep around from the right wing, link up with Han Chao's cavalry over there, and after bombarding with rockets, engage in a great battle with Dorgon's slave cavalry — the infantry following close behind to split and encircle.

Wang Dou had originally prepared Li Guangheng's lance cavalry to charge head-on against the bandit cavalry. He had not expected them to be so utterly feeble. Now with the one-sided pursuit, the sharp regular cavalry was no longer needed — transfer them to the battlefield where they were needed more.

As for the battlefield south of Dang'er Ridge, let Wen Fangliang's Second-Class Battalion, the dapple cavalry, the hunter cavalry, the great heroes of the security bureaus, the Loyalty Battalion, and the retainers and horse troops of the Shaanxi-Gansu generals handle the pursuit. With over twenty thousand cavalry biting at their heels, they would surely chase the bandits until there was no road to heaven and no gate to the earth below.

Especially, they must not let the Chuang bandit escape, nor any of those important bandit chieftains.

And the infantry on this battlefield — let them also slowly pursue and mop up those routed bandit foot soldiers.

Having finished arranging the battle south of Dang'er Ridge, Wang Dou turned his gaze eastward.

"The bandits are finished. Now it's the caitiffs' turn. I said it before — Li Zicheng, Dorgon — not one of you should think of running!"

While Wang Dou was making his arrangements, a heavy gloom hung over the Qing army's great formation.

Without surprise, following the two waves of Outer-Fan Mongol cavalry, the third wave of twenty thousand men from the Khorchin tribe charging together had likewise failed — and the losses were even more severe than the first two Outer-Fan Mongol waves. Troop and horse casualties were estimated at around thirty to forty percent, with over half the armored soldiers lost in particular.

When their remnant soldiers came screaming back to the rear of the central army, Khorchin's Heshuo Tuxietu Prince Badali, Duoluo Baturu Prince Manzhuxili and the others all had faces as pale as paper. It was over. Their Khorchin tribe was finished.

It was over. They, these princes and commandery princes, were also finished. Without fighting men, what would they be when they returned to their tribes?

The Khorchin tribe was not a single tribe. Its founding ancestor was Habulu Hasaer, younger brother of the Yuan Great Ancestor. It comprised six Jasagh banners plus the Jalaid, Dorbed, Gorlos, Aru Khorchin and other tribes. In the Huang Taiji era, Khorchin imitated the Eight Banners system and divided into left and right wings, each wing further divided into front, middle, and rear banners.

The inner right wing took Badali of the middle banner as its leader; the left wing took Manzhuxili of the middle banner as its leader. They were respectively enfeoffed by the Qing state as Jasagh Heshuo Tuxietu Prince and Jasagh Duoluo Baturu Prince, both hereditary and irreplaceable. The leaders of the remaining banners were also enfeoffed as commandery princes, defense dukes, and so on.

That is to say, the two wings and six banners of Khorchin had only 448 niru, with just over twenty-two thousand banner men. This time they had sent twenty thousand troops, and in one stroke thirty to forty percent of their men were dead or wounded. After returning, nearly every household would be donning mourning clothes. Their Khorchin vitality was grievously wounded.

Especially these banner leaders — if their banners had no able-bodied men left, how could they preserve their own power and status?

Was fighting like this for the Qing state worth it or not?

Every one of them was dazed and despondent, feeling deep regret. When Dorgon again spoke of charging the formation, they all remained silent, staring blankly. The leaders of the Outer-Fan Mongol Aohan, Naiman, Kharchin, Tumed and other tribes also wore cold expressions.

A Kharchin tribal chief even muttered, "Still charging? If you want to charge, Dorgon, go charge yourself."

This enraged Dorgon. He was the Emperor of the Great Qing, the Bogda Khan of the Great Mongols — a petty tribal headman dared speak to him like this?

But looking at the expressions of the various Mongols, each with eyes concealing fury and anger, clearly all believed the Qing Emperor harbored sinister intentions, deliberately using them as cannon fodder to deplete their strength. He swallowed his rage. Their losses were indeed rather heavy; their anger was understandable. For now, the greater situation must take precedence — this was not the time to quibble with these Mongols.

Moreover, every charge had failed. This charging tactic was clearly unworkable. Yet when discussing battle strategy and countermeasures, those Mongols all kept their mouths shut. Even the Eight Banner Mongol gūsa ejens Adai, Enggetu, Buyandai and others remained silent — clearly the previous waves of battle had left them with lingering fear.

Looking at these dazed Mongols, Dorgon raged inwardly: "A pack of numbed, worthless creatures."

Gazing at the opposing army formation, he felt the situation was extremely thorny. He had already tried his utmost to overestimate the Pacification Army's strength, yet their power still exceeded his expectations.

Especially their new, sharp weapons, which had brought immense panic to his army formation.

He felt he needed to deploy the Manchu elite. For this expedition he had brought sixty thousand Manchu Eight Banner troops. Jirgalang, Dodo, and Abatai had split off with fifteen thousand on three routes, leaving roughly forty-five thousand in his formation, plus about twenty-three thousand Mongol Eight Banner troops.

Though these Manchu-Mongol core forces had taken occasional rocket strikes, causing panic, when carefully calculated, his Manchu-Mongol Eight Banner core was undamaged. Even excluding the Outer-Fan Mongols, Khorchin and other tribes, his central army formation still had nearly seventy thousand fierce troops available.

With such abundant military strength, how could he not fight it out?

During the council, the gathered Manchu banner lords Ashan, Dudu, Luoluohuan and others also strongly advocated fighting to the death. Originally everyone had harbored thoughts of looting a burning house and the snipe-and-clam struggle where the fisherman profits. Now they all felt the threat of annihilation.

Right now Wang Dou was fighting two at once and still handling it with ease, while they themselves could not even break through one of his positions. If they waited until Wang Dou finished off the bandits and freed his hands, what awaited them would be the horror of extinction.

The threat of death united the originally fractious Manchu banners, and retreating now was somewhat too late anyway.

Looking over at the Pacification Army, just on this section of their battle line they had as many as twenty thousand cavalry, all well-rested and brimming with energy, eyeing them like tigers. If their own retreat turned into a rout and they were pursued for a thousand li, the consequences would be too dreadful to contemplate.

They had witnessed the earlier charges, especially the Khorchin charge. In fact, some Khorchin troops had broken through their lines before being stabilized — that was also due to those Mongols' insufficient fighting strength. When they Manchus took the field, it would naturally be different.

They quickly deliberated and concluded that they could send troops to feint against the enemy's central infantry formation, then concentrate their elite to strike the gap between the Pacification Army's center and left wing. They only needed to tear open a breach, then could gradually expand the gains, and finally tens of thousands would surge in and shatter their formation in one blow.

Ning Wanwo's face was somewhat fearful and pale. The battle had reached a point completely different from what he had imagined. It seemed their side was in a bad way — now there was even worry about survival? This was wrong — was it not supposed to be the snipe and clam fighting while the fisherman profited?

Beside him, Fan Wencheng was also listening uneasily. He kept silent. Strategically, though the Qing Emperor valued his opinions, in concrete tactics and troop deployment, he naturally had no say. His ears took in the deployment discussions of Dorgon and the others, while his eyes gazed worriedly toward the Pacification Army's side.

He too had an ominous premonition. This entry through the pass might be a colossal mistake — especially not knowing how many of those deadly "Divine Fire Flying Crows" they still had left.

He sighed deeply in his heart. It should not be like this. The Southern Dynasty was clearly about to fall — why did a Wang Dou appear?

And his strength had suddenly swelled to this extent — this was unreasonable.

"Adai, Yibai, Suna and the others will feint. Ashan, Baiyintu..."

Dorgon was in the midst of deploying when suddenly, from beyond his left wing — seemingly from the bandits' right wing — came earth-shaking wails and screams. That shouting was so frenzied it made the hair of all who heard it stand on end.

Everyone was startled. Dorgon's body trembled, then he said sharply, "What is happening? What is going on with the bandits over there? Send men at once to find out!"

He forcefully suppressed the unease in his heart, took out his spyglass and looked in that direction, but on the left wing there, billowing clouds of gunpowder smoke and mist from firearms and cannons rose up, accompanied by bursts of gunfire and cannon fire, yet it was very hard to hear or see clearly what was happening over there.

Fortunately at that moment a scout rider came to report, saying that the central army of the roving bandits had been defeated, and it was rapidly affecting their right wing — before their eyes, their right wing was also about to collapse.

Dorgon was both shocked and furious: "Utterly useless."

Ning Wanwo's face grew even paler, his whole body began to tremble uncontrollably, as if he foresaw the coming of doomsday.