Chapter 894: Total Annihilation

(Over a hundred detailed outlines written to nine thousand words — speechless. And everyone, where are your eyes looking? In the last chapter, did Fan Wencheng and Ning Wanwo die? Made me go back and read it myself.)

Tang Tong discussed with his trusted general Tang Zong and others: if they openly brought troops to kill Wu Sangui, it would be hard to do, since Wu Sangui had two thousand retainers, every one of them fierce and tough, and the various Zu-family generals around them also possessed elite cavalry — over twenty thousand infantry and cavalry, most of them the finest troops of the Guan-Ning Army.

Looking at their own side, the main battalion and the two camp forces numbered barely eight thousand, and most were a mixed bag of good and bad; they had also taken casualties earlier attacking the Jingbian Army defense line. So a head-on clash would likely cost them dearly, and they might not even win. Therefore they could not fight head-on and had to rely on cunning.

Tang Tong believed that to capture the bandits, first capture the king. He would take some elite cavalry to Wu Sangui's side, launch a sudden surprise attack, and perhaps succeed. Then the Miyun Army would fiercely assault the Guan-Ning Army; with the dragon headless, they might reap many kills and even swallow up their remaining forces.

Tang Tong also carefully considered how many men to bring. He thought bringing a hundred-odd retainers would be appropriate — too many troops would arouse Wu Sangui's vigilance, but because the two had fallen out over the gate-opening matter, bringing a hundred-odd cavalry for protection during discussions was perfectly normal.

They cautiously analyzed for a while and concluded this plan had a high chance of success. Though variables existed, in this critical moment there was no room for hesitation.

At this time, Tang Tong's Miyun Army was positioned on the left side of the grand formation's right wing, while Wu Sangui's Guan-Ning Army occupied the center-right position, with Abatai's Manchu troops pressing from the rear. After carefully instructing another trusted general of the main battalion to coordinate closely, Tang Tong and his trusted general Tang Zong led a hundred-odd elite cavalry toward Wu Sangui's position.

They galloped over to Wu Sangui's side and saw him talking with his subordinate generals Yang Shen, Guo Yunlong, as well as Wu Sanfu, Zu Dabi, Zu Dale, Zu Dacheng, and other Wu and Zu family officers. Wu paid little attention to their arrival, seemingly more focused on the battle ahead against the Jingbian Army. Fang Guangchen, too, was watching the front with a worried expression. Tang Tong secretly rejoiced.

He secretly signaled Tang Zong with a glance, then spurred his horse to Wu Sangui's side and called out, "Prince of Pingxi, you've seen the situation over there. The Great Qing is clearly about to be finished. We brothers must figure out where to go from here — we need a plan."

Wu Sangui said coolly, "Oh? And what lofty insight does the Prince of Dingxi have?"

Seeing Wu Sangui's jade-tree-in-the-wind, unruffled demeanor, Tang Tong felt a surge of irritation. He said, "This matter is of grave importance and must not reach outside ears. Let us speak aside."

He dismounted as he spoke. Wu Sangui's expression was something between a smile and a smirk. He followed and said flatly, "Speak, then. What is your plan?"

Tang Tong leaned in close and whispered, "My plan is..."

Then he suddenly roared, "Go die!"

With a clang, he drew his sword — and then his whole body jolted. Wu Sangui's sharp blade had already stabbed through him first. The blood-dripping tip pierced out his back, then withdrew. Blood immediately gushed from Tang Tong's mouth.

Tang Tong's whole body trembled. He staggered, pointing at Wu Sangui. "You... you..."

Wu Sangui's face twisted into utter savagery. He sneered, "You thought I didn't know what you were scheming? You wanted to take my head to curry favor with Wang Dou? Hah?"

He stabbed through Tang Tong's body again. Tang Tong shrieked wretchedly, stumbling and crashing to the ground. Wu Sangui went after him, stabbing and thrusting relentlessly, like butchering a pig or slaughtering a sheep. He raged and cursed: "What the hell are you, huh? You filthy piece of trash, you lowborn thug, you base bastard wild seed — you want to kill me? Are you even worthy?"

Tang Tong wailed piteously. Wu Sangui's arm swung ceaselessly, stabbing down again and again. Blood droplets scattered and splashed onto his face. Gradually Tang Tong's cries grew faint. Wu Sangui kept stabbing, cursing bitterly: "You three-surnamed house-slave — you thought you could kill me?"

At last Tang Tong fell silent, only his body still twitching faintly. His eyes were wide open, his expression utterly horrific.

All around, wretched screams rang out unceasingly — Wu Sanfu and the others were carrying out a massacre on Tang Zong and his men. Clearly, the arrival of Tang Tong's group had long been within Wu Sangui and his people's expectations.

Looking at the corpses covering the ground, Fang Guangchen's face was pale. He said, "Changbo, Tang Tong did say one thing right: the Great Qing is clearly about to be finished. What do we do next?"

Zu Dabi, Zu Dale, and Zu Dacheng all sighed as they looked at Tang Tong's corpse. Zu Dale said, "When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter. Everyone's looking for a way out."

Zu Dacheng said bitterly, "The Tatars looked so mighty — how could they be so useless in a fight?"

Zu Dabi said, "It's not that the Tatars are weak — it's that the Jingbian Army is too strong. The Great Qing will be finished in the blink of an eye. We have to figure out a way to escape."

He glanced at Wu Sangui, who turned his head away. A complicated look appeared in Zu Dabi's eyes. This time the choice had been wrong. But the Wu and Zu families had killed Liu Zhaoji — there was no turning back from that. He suddenly looked toward the rear. "Abatai has left... oh, heading to the central grand formation... heh, he wants to live and die with the Great Qing. We will not keep him company."

Then everyone was startled again — the distant sound of Jingbian Army horns rang out, and then their cavalry on that side advanced in perfect formation with terrifying steps, finally breaking into a ferocious charge. As thousands upon thousands of horses surged forward, the very earth seemed to quake with violent tremors. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but endless, boundless cavalry stretching to the horizon.

Zu Dabi sighed, "Truly iron cavalry. Our horse troops look utterly insignificant in comparison... Let's go. Flee back to Liaodong first. Leave all the infantry behind except the retainer horse troops..."

"Kill the slaves!"

Like a torrential flood, the Jingbian Army cavalry formation charged toward the Qing army's grand formation. They maintained the most rigorously tight formation, like a razor-sharp long blade, cleaving through the Qing army's sparse and chaotic battle lines in one stroke — like cutting through cake, slicing all the way through — and then continued their rolling assault, still holding the most impeccably disciplined formation.

As expected, the Qing army's lines collapsed across the entire front. They were nothing but a gang of bandits, not an army that scorned death, that had ideals, that fought with conviction. The hallmark of such a gang was savagery against the weak and cowardice before the strong. In the past they had swept all before them only because their opponents were utterly worthless. Now, facing a formidable army that crushed them in every respect, their true nature was exposed.

In particular, after a small number of Manchu soldiers who still tried to form ranks and resist were scattered once more when the cavalry wheeled around and charged again, everyone fled in panic — Manchus, Mongols, Han, Koreans, Japanese, bondservants of every ethnicity. They fought over horses, fought over escape routes.

They screamed madly. Everyone descended into a state of frenzy. Even the cringing, obsequious bondservants now dared to swing blades at their masters — yanking them off horses with one grab, slashing them down with one stroke, seizing their horses and valuables and fleeing.

The scene of rout was stupefying. Especially after the Jingbian Army cavalry split into multiple columns to drive them, swinging their sabers in wild slashing, hacking, chopping, and killing, the routed men screamed with earth-shattering terror, trampling and crushing each other in the press, cursing only that their parents had given them two legs too few.

In that moment, there was no distinction between high and low, noble and base. Everyone flailed their arms and wailed wretchedly. Even a Gūsa Beise screamed exactly the same as a bondservant.

They screamed and fled. Plains, villages, rivers, mountain ridges — everywhere was packed with their fleeing men and horses.

Such was the scene of a great rout — terrifying to some, exhilarating to others, depending on which side one stood.

"Ah!"

Liu Liangzuo screamed like a woman. Not far from him, Jirgalang was wailing wretchedly, his whole body ablaze, his flesh and blood sizzling and popping as they burned. He rolled desperately on the ground, but the fierce flames would not go out — they would not stop until they burned him alive.

And around Jirgalang, many elite Bayara guards were also fleeing, screaming and trailing fire. They ran and crashed about like wild boars, and when they accidentally collided with someone else, that person too burst into flames and screamed.

Sun Sanjie and the others atop Mount Tang had finally found their chance and fired off every rocket, large and small, in one volley. At last Jirgalang was struck, roasted alive on the spot.

Meanwhile, Liu Liangzuo's attacking force, along with the Han Eight Banners, Japanese Eight Banners, Korean Eight Banners, and other second-rate Tatars, had long been on the verge of collapse. The Manchu Bordered Blue Banner's gold-threaded dragon standard supervising the battle had fallen. Sun Sanjie ordered a full counterattack, and they surged out from the low-wall defense line like a tide, pursuing and slaughtering.

Not to mention Liu Liangzuo and the others, who were the first to scream and flee — even Geng Zhongming, Shang Kexi, Ma Guangyuan, Jin Li, and the other Gūsa Beise of the Han Eight Banners were shouting and running for their lives.

Just like the central grand formation, they formed a vast wave of rout.

Amid the wave of routed men and horses, Fan Wencheng and Ning Wanwo let out scream after scream of terror, fearing that at any moment they would be trampled into minced meat by the torrent of galloping horses.

Just a short while ago, they had seen with their own eyes Gao Hongzhong, still crawling on the ground, get trampled into bloody pulp. This filled them with a terror beyond description.

They had been abandoned. Dodo had come and taken away his imperial brother Dorgon. Every horse in sight had been taken by them as well. And of the routed soldiers who passed by, none stopped to give them a horse. At a time like this, no one cared whether they were Grand Secretaries or not — everyone was fleeing for their own lives.

Fortunately, the two men were fairly lucky. The torrent of galloping horses had not struck them, and even the Jingbian Army cavalry who thundered past could not be bothered with them — they were far more interested in chasing down the mounted armored elite cavalry.

The two also knew that without horses they could not escape, so they simply gave up on fleeing and waited listlessly where they were. At last, before them appeared the tide of the Jingbian Army infantry formation. Every soldier wore an eight-petaled iron helmet and fine segmented iron plate armor, and carried either a firelock with a bayonet fixed or a gleaming, razor-sharp long pike.

Looking at their faces, many had originally been nothing more than simple farm boys, but now every one of them had become a sharp, outstanding warrior of iron and blood.

Both men sighed. Ning Wanwo gave Fan Wencheng a bitter smile and said, "Brother Xiandou, the time has come to show our loyalty and die for the Great Qing."

He sighed. "You and I have often had our frictions in ordinary times. Who would have thought we would die for our country on the same day, at the same hour? It shall be passed down as a fine tale and a beautiful story."

Fan Wencheng stammered, "Y-yes, yes."

Ning Wanwo picked up a saber from the ground, intending to cut his own throat, but after hesitating a long while, he said instead, "As scholars of the Great Qing's Literary Academy, we ought to uphold righteousness with stern words and die cursing the rebels."

Fan Wencheng said, "Brother Gongfu's insight is lofty."

At that moment, a group of Jingbian Army third-class battalion soldiers closed in. Seeing these two Tatar civil officials apparently about to commit suicide, they all spoke with curiosity.

"Someone wants to die a martyr's death — a rare sight."

"That day we heard of Lord Banghua and others generously dying for righteousness. I never imagined there could be loyal and righteous men among the Tartars too. How about we grant him his wish?"

Dozens of pairs of eyes stared fixedly at Fan Wencheng and Ning Wanwo. Some gazes even held admiration. Under the scrutiny of the crowd, both men's faces flushed bright red.

Ning Wanwo raised his saber several times, then lowered it; raised it, then lowered it again. Beads of sweat streamed down his forehead. He recalled hearing that day how in Yizhou, Cao Bianjiao, Wang Tingchen, and all the soldiers and civilians of the city had taken their own lives — not a single one surrendered to the enemy. Dorgon had said: if his Great Qing ever faced a day of ruin, would it have so many loyal ministers and righteous men?

In the end, he simply could not do it. His face alternated between pale and green. He said hoarsely, "The weather is rather hot and dry... How about you go first, Brother Xiandou?"

Fan Wencheng forced a smile. "I dare not steal the name of first righteousness from you, Brother Gongfu."

The several dozen third-class soldiers of the Jingbian Army had waited half the day, yet these two Tartar civil officials before them simply would not die. One soldier said impatiently, "Are you going to die or not?"

Fan Wencheng and Ning Wanwo's faces went green for a moment, then white for a moment. Both remained silent.

Mocking laughter erupted: "Putting on such a show — turns out they're ball-less goods."

"We really overestimated these second-rate Tartars."

"If they understood loyalty and righteousness, they wouldn't be dogs for the Tartars."

"Damn it all, making me wait half the day."

"Your mother's fur! Saying you'll die but not dying — truly dog Tartars!"

Amid the jeering, Ning Wanwo trembled all over. He suddenly bellowed, "Insolence! I am a Scholar of the Literary Academy of the Great Qing! You mere petty soldiers—"

A squad leader stepped forward and delivered a heavy slap across his face. Ning Wanwo's mouth and nose bled as the blow spun him around. Then the squad leader backhanded him, and Ning Wanwo spun again. The squad leader struck forehand and backhand, left and right, slapping Ning Wanwo over a dozen times in one breath until his face was bruised and swollen like a pig's head.

Ning Wanwo shrieked miserably, "I... am a Scholar of the Literary Academy... of the Great Qing! You cannot treat... treat..."

Fan Wencheng stood to the side trembling, shivering like a leaf in the wind.

Just then, an officer passed by, accompanied by guards and staff officers. It was Tian Qiming, an officer of the Xuanwu Army's Right Battalion.

He heard clearly and said with a beaming smile, "A Scholar? A big fish."

Dorgon rode dizzily along with the cavalry column in flight. Around him surged a tide of panicked men and horses. This army had once been brave and battle-hardened, its might shaking the Great Ming; wherever it went, it could stop children from crying at night. But now every man was dazed, terrified, utterly routed.

The panicked, fleeing men and horses around them could not have failed to see their group, could not have failed to see Dorgon, the Emperor of the Great Qing, the Great Mongol Bogd Khan. Yet they simply pretended not to see, as if they did not recognize him, Dorgon.

Dodo and Abatai raged furiously, berating them, chasing them, threatening them. But these Manchu and Mongol stragglers, who just earlier had been shouting "Long live the Great Qing!", now each feared only getting too close — they simply did not want to join them.

They did not want to become a large, conspicuous target and turn into the Jingbian Army's next quarry. Right now, being alone like this was best — inconspicuous.

Dorgon clutched the reins, his gaze dazed and unfocused. After Dodo had rescued him, they soon met up with Abatai, then joined forces — about three to five thousand riders. But as the stragglers above had feared, such a large body of troops inevitably drew a thunderous strike from the Jingbian cavalry. Then they were routed again, and after scattering, barely over a thousand remained.

At this moment, Dorgon's face was dark and brooding, lost in thought. Riding on horseback, he could only dwell on the earlier battle. To be defeated so suddenly — during the Song-Jin campaign, there had at least been give and take. Why this time were they utterly powerless to retaliate?

Dorgon believed it was because of the Jingbian Army's rockets. Moreover, his own tens of thousands, nearly a hundred thousand riders, had been arrayed in dense battle formations, foolishly making it convenient for the Jingbian Army's bombardment. But battle formations were always this dense — if a great army did not array itself, how could it fight?

Dorgon was thinking: if he ever had a chance to rise again, to defeat the Jingbian Army's rockets, besides having rockets of his own, the formations would have to be deployed more sparsely.

But how would one fight that way? Did such a thing as a sparse, loose battle formation even exist in this world?

Dorgon rode as if sleepwalking. It seemed the dream had shattered; he was merely holding on by sheer will. It was over. His Great Qing, his Manchu core, had suffered catastrophic losses and could no longer suppress the Mongols, the Han Chinese, the Koreans, the Japanese.

It was over. His princes, dukes, and ministers, his Gūsa Ejen, had suffered grievous casualties. It could no longer be called a nation. Even if they fled back to Liaodong, his state could no longer function.

The shouting soldiers around him seemed like a vast host, surging like a tide. Yet in his eyes, they were like wraiths and specters. They were so terrified. They were fleeing in rout. They had no fighting spirit left. They could no longer be called warriors, let alone heroes.

While he was in this daze, suddenly a heaven-shaking wail rose from ahead, as if something unimaginable had happened there. Both Dorgon and Dodo felt their hair stand on end. Abatai said grimly, "What is it? Send someone to see at once."

At that moment, Duerde, the Bayara Banner Commander, came running, wailing. He cried out, "Your Majesty! Your Majesty! A great calamity! Tens of thousands of Jingbian troops are blocking the way ahead!"

Dorgon's face instantly drained of all color.

Dodo trembled. He murmured, "How can this be? How can there be Jingbian troops behind us too?"

Abatai clenched his teeth. He gripped his fists so tightly that his nails dug deep into his flesh.

Liu Zeqing fled, shrieking. In that instant, the entire army formation collapsed. During the Jingbian Army's rocket bombardment, of the hundred-odd riders around him, only a dozen or so remained. After the rout, he initially had a few men with him, but in the end, not a single one was left.

Liu Zeqing could not concern himself with so much. He only wanted to flee back to the capital, then grab some valuables and flee to Shandong. As for what would happen after reaching Shandong, Liu Zeqing could not spare the thought.

He fled, mingling within the torrent of cavalry. He was experienced in escape and knew he must not stay mixed with the main body of troops — that would make too large a target.

After crossing the Qing River, he did not enter the encampment, nor did he fight with the crowd for the official road from Qinghe Station to the capital. He did not plan to take the Desheng Gate. Instead, he skirted the edge of Fuhai, intending to enter the capital through the Xizhi Gate.

After reaching this area, the torrent of men and horses indeed thinned considerably. But it was not deserted, for by now the left wing had also collapsed. The wilderness was everywhere filled with outer-camp infantrymen fleeing helter-skelter.

Liu Zeqing could not be bothered with the foot soldiers who cried and shouted to him for help. He whipped his horse to a gallop and headed southwest. Just then, the rumble of hooves sounded behind him. Liu Zeqing looked back and groaned inwardly: several dozen riders in gold-and-red uniforms were spurring their horses in mad pursuit of him.

"...Knowing to take this remote path while fleeing — if not a veteran, then a high-ranking officer. After him..."

Their shouts carried on the wind. The several dozen riders pursued relentlessly, then split into two groups, sweeping in from both flanks. Liu Zeqing screamed wretchedly, spurring his horse for all it was worth. But his mount was already somewhat exhausted and could not outrun the fresh troops chasing from behind.

Suddenly, several riders swept past not far from him. "Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh" — a lasso flew over like a ghost and instantly looped around Liu Zeqing's head. The noose tightened in a flash, and Liu Zeqing was yanked from his horse. He hit the ground and was dragged along. His mount was likewise led away.

A rough, bold voice called from a distance: "Black Hair, Old Bandit, we've caught a big fish — heading back first..."

Yang Shaofan made his way all through the army formation. Everywhere was chaos. Yang Shaofan merely watched coldly. He crossed the Qing River directly and reached the rear encampment, which was also on the verge of collapse and panic.

Yang Shaofan ignored everything. With a cold expression, he went straight into his own tent, gathered some valuables, and slung a small bundle onto his back. Without the slightest attachment, he mounted his horse and rode straight out of the camp.

He did not take the official road either. In his judgment, the capital could certainly not be held, so he simply decided not to enter it, to avoid wasting his own time.

He planned to pass west of the city, then go through Liangxiang and Gu'an, first to Shandong, then on to Huguang. He saw clearly now: what war was fought with was money and grain. Huguang was a land of fish and rice. With his own abilities, raising another force would be easy.

Right — he would also get rockets himself, and when the time came, blast that son of a bitch Wang Dou to death.

Just as he was spurring his horse onward, a heaven-shaking wail suddenly rose from behind — the central army's position had completely collapsed.

Yang Shaofan's expression did not change. Only the corner of his mouth lifted in a cruel arc. Defeated so quickly — truly useless trash. Go eat shit, Chuang Bandits. He had wasted too much time on them these years. From now on, he would be his own master and serve no one.

He urged his horse faster. Just as he was galloping, a rocket suddenly howled through the sky high above his head. Yang Shaofan's hair stood on end. He reined in his horse in alarm — the rocket had come from ahead of him.

Cold sweat streamed down his body. He gazed long in that direction, then turned his horse and galloped back the way he came. But soon, a tide of routed cavalry surged toward him from ahead. Yang Shaofan turned westward again.

At that moment, a voice called out for Yang Shaofan. He looked over — it was a personal attendant from the camp. After the bloody battle at Xiayi years ago, they had surrendered to Li Chuang. Because they were from the same camp, Yang Shaofan had promoted him to a trusted aide. Now this aide came running over joyfully, saying, "General, General, so you were here."

His voice carried a sob: "The brothers are all routed. What do we do now?"

Without a word, Yang Shaofan suddenly flashed his blade — he had drawn his sword and slashed it across the aide's throat. Blood sprayed from the aide's neck as he tumbled from his horse in disbelief.

Yang Shaofan still said nothing. He took his horse by the reins and left.

He headed west. Midway he switched horses. The flow of people on this side was noticeably much thinner, especially the torrent of mounted troops. Yang Shaofan calculated on first dashing into the Western Hills to hide, then finding a chance to go south.

Rounding a grove of trees by a lake, he came face to face with several dozen riders, every one of them wearing the golden-red sun-and-moon uniforms.

Yang Shaofan's gaze hardened. He wheeled his horse and fled.

Those several dozen riders grew excited: "There's a big fish."

They chased after him with wild shouts, one yelling: "Black Hair, you go that way."

Black Hair said: "Right. Bring out the net. Let's all scoop him in together."

They fanned out on both wings to envelop him. Several riders spread out laterally, pulling something like a net between them, then suddenly roared in unison.

"One, two, three — lift."

"Caught him, caught him."

"…Put your back into it, Old Bandit. You, over there, pull harder."

Old Bandit yelled: "This is crazy. This fish is too fat. Black Hair, you pull harder too."

"Good, he's tangled, he's tangled…"

Yang Shaofan was caught in the net and dragged behind the horses as they ran. He screamed shrilly, roaring and howling like a wild beast.

…

Amid the clash of blades, sparks flew in all directions. Old Hu and Li Guo staggered apart.

At this moment they were near an abandoned estate by Wengshan Lake. After Li Chuang and the others fled here, Old Hu's men had finally caught up, and then a brutal slaughter unfolded.

Old Hu, Kong San, and their men had several dozen elite riders from the Mountain Patrol Battalion. But during the flight, just as many riders from the Surrendered Battalion had merged into Li Guo's party. The two sides were evenly matched, and the fight was ferociously intense.

Li Zicheng's wounded right eye was crudely bandaged, the arrow shaft already snapped off. But the pain of the wound, combined with the jolting along the way, had left him slumped against the main gate, unconscious.

Kong San led the Mountain Patrol Battalion fighters in battle against Li Guo's subordinates, while Old Hu himself took on Li Guo. The two men fought with desperate, life-or-death ferocity.

After another exchange of blows, Li Guo switched to a fresh blade. He leaned on the hilt, panting heavily, and glared at Old Hu across from him. "Hu Tiande, why do you keep hounding us? Why won't you let us go?"

Old Hu gave a dark chuckle. "Sorry, but I want to be a Township Chief. I'll just have to borrow your head for that."

Li Guo roared: "Township Chief? I'm only worth a Township Chief? You donkey's balls — you think killing me, One-Tiger, is that easy?"

He charged forward with a bellow. Old Hu also charged with a bellow: "What's a tiger? I'm the Earth-Treading Dragon! And you're not worth just one Township Chief — it's you and your uncle together."

The ear-piercing sound of weapons clashing. In the blink of an eye, wounds covered both their bodies. Suddenly a great spray of blood splashed out. With a hiss, in the flash of a blade, Old Hu drove his saber straight in — through the abdomen and out the back. Li Guo's face instantly turned as pale as paper.

He stared fixedly at Old Hu before him. Clots of blood gushed from his mouth in large mouthfuls. He said bitterly: "All this time I treated you as a brother."

Old Hu looked at him coldly and without mercy. "I am a soldier. You are a bandit. Who's your brother?"

He yanked out his waist saber. Li Guo looked at the bloody hole in his own body, then glanced toward where Li Zicheng was. No one knew what went through his mind. Then he toppled, fell to the ground, and convulsed. Blood kept flowing from his body.

Once Li Guo was dead, the remaining Shun troops lost all will to fight. Some spurred their horses, some fled on foot, every one of them shouting as they ran. Old Hu and his men had no interest in chasing down those small fry.

Suddenly Old Hu grimaced, feeling pain from every wound all over his body. Kong San also came limping over. He had taken a slash to the thigh, which made him walk somewhat unnaturally.

He walked up beside Old Hu, looked at the dozen or so Mountain Patrol Battalion brothers lying on the ground, and could not help sighing. Then he and Old Hu exchanged a glance. Brilliant, radiant smiles bloomed on both their faces. After so many years undercover, they had finally reaped a bountiful harvest.

Abruptly their smiles froze. Both went on alert. Over a hundred riders had rounded the estate and were approaching.

Then the two of them relaxed. Laughing heartily, they went forward to meet them: "Big Ox, brother."

That man also rode forward with a great laugh: "Brother Hu, Brother Kong."

It was another deep-cover agent from the Intelligence Department — Jin Youniu, Count of Wuyang. He rode his horse, and another riderless horse was carrying the body of Marquis Ci, Liu Fangliang.

Laughing, they dismounted and embraced. Looking at Li Guo's body here, and Li Zicheng slumped unconscious against the main gate over there, Jin Youniu exclaimed in admiration: "What a pair. You two have earned enormous merit."

At his words, Old Hu suddenly remembered. He loaded Li Guo's body onto one riderless horse, and tied the unconscious Li Zicheng onto another. Finally he let out a breath and said: "Whew. Township Chief — secured. One dead, one alive. Double insurance."

Seeing his expression, Kong San and Jin Youniu exchanged a glance. Both broke into helpless laughter.

Old Hu gazed happily at his harvest, thinking of when he would return to Xuanfu Garrison — his left arm around his dear darling wife, his right hand holding his dear darling son or daughter, and everyone around him respectfully calling out: "Chief Hu, good day."

As he thought and thought, he could not help growing utterly entranced.

…

A vast tide of roving bandit cavalry and infantry, covering the hills and plains, surged toward the magnificent Beijing city. Although the troops from the great flanking strike had moved north, they could not block every gap that tightly — especially the bandit mounted troops were very hard to intercept. So after their rout, many roving bandit cavalry and infantry still fled desperately south and reached the walls of Beijing.

But the scene before them brought only disappointment. High on the gate towers, the sun-and-moon wave banners fluttered. And countless commoners of the capital stood atop the city walls, crude weapons in their hands — hoes, pitchforks, clubs, cleavers. They stood shoulder to shoulder with the soldiers of the Border Pacification Army.

They looked down coldly from the walls, ignoring the despairing cries, wails, and roars of the roving bandits below.

They were united as one. They would not let a single roving bandit enter the city again.

"Over here, over here…"

Yang Bagu, with Zhang Shouyin, hurried anxiously through the streets. She had already found out clearly that after her daughter was abducted, she had been confined in the drill ground outside Xuanwu Gate.

Sure enough, when they reached this area, it was already a surging crowd. Everywhere was the overwhelming sound of wailing as relatives recognized one another.

"Niannu… Niannu…"

Yang Bagu called out anxiously, scrutinizing every girl who passed by. Suddenly a timid voice said: "Mother."

Yang Bagu turned her head. The dazed, stupefied girl before her — who else could it be but her precious daughter?

She seized her in a fierce embrace and wailed: "My daughter!"

Li Niannu's tears streamed straight down. She wept: "Mother."

Zhang Shouyin watched from the side, tears in his eyes. He choked out: "You're alive. That's all that matters. You're alive."

Yang Bagu remained kneeling on the ground. She held her daughter and sobbed loudly: "Good daughter, don't be afraid. The Grand General has come. Good days are truly here now…"

…

"Ten thousand victories! Ten thousand victories! Ten thousand victories!"

Amid cheers like a rising tide, countless officers and soldiers shouted toward Wang Dou, who stood beneath the giant sun-and-moon wave banner on the ridge. Good news kept coming in, one report after another. The capital had been recovered. And on the roving bandits' side, the bandit chieftain Li Zicheng had been captured alive, along with the bandit generals Liu Zongmin, Yang Shaofan, Liu Zeqing, Dang Shousu, Gu Kecheng, and others.

Also captured were the bandit officials Niu Jinxing, Song Xiance, Gu Junen, Song Qijiao, Zhang Linren, and others. And the bandit generals Li Guo, Liu Fangliang, Liu Xiyao, Yuan Zongdi, Gao Yigong, Tian Jianxiu, and other great bandits had been slain. It could be said that, aside from a small number of bandit officials and generals, the roving bandits this time had been completely annihilated.

And on the slave-bandit side, the harvest was equally bountiful. The slave chieftain Dorgon had been captured alive, along with the slave-bandit Beile princes, Gushan Ejen Dodo, Abatai, Buyandai, Ibai, Enggetu, Geng Zhongming, Shang Kexi, Ma Guangyuan, Jin Li, and others.

They also captured the Six Ministries Grand Secretary of the slave rebels, Fan Wencheng, Ning Wanwo, Namutai, Ye Keshu, Basihan, Meng Qiaofang, and others. Liu Liangzuo, Wu Sangui, Wu Sanfu, Fang Guangchen, Zu Dabi, Zu Dale, Zu Dacheng, and others were also seized.

After the battlefield statistics were compiled, it was found that they had also slain the Manchu banner lords of the slave rebels: Ashan, Baiyintu, Jirgalang, Luoluohuan, Dudu, and others; the Eight Banner Mongol gūsa ejens: Adai, Suna, Wulai, Hushibu; and men from the Outer Domain Mongols and Khorchin tribe: Badali, Manzhuxili, Duoerji, and others.

The Han Eight Banner gūsa ejens, such as Tong Tulai, Bayan, Li Guohan, and Wang Shixuan, also died on the spot. In addition, the Six Ministries beile ministers: Ying’eerdai, Meng Atu, Nangnuke, Sahalian, Jueluosa, and others; the leader of the Manzi City, the Ministry of Justice minister Gao Hongzhong, and so on—all were blasted into minced flesh by rockets.

As for the slaughter of slave officers like niru janggin, amban janggin, and jalan janggin, they were beyond counting.

It can be said that through this single battle, the entire elite core of the slave rebels was wiped out.

Good news arrived one after another. Civil officials like Chen Xinjia all wailed loudly, and the Crown Prince Zhu Cilang also had tears streaming down his face. In just one day—no, half a day—the internal traitors and external woes that had plagued the Great Ming for years were completely overturned in a single morning. How could one not weep with joy?

The Crown Prince even shouted to the heavens: "Imperial Father, Imperial Father, do you see? The roving bandits and slave rebels are utterly destroyed!"

He choked with sobs, unable to speak, and the various civil officials also wept in a chorus of wails.

Afterward, the Crown Prince asked Wang Dou what should be done next.

Wang Dou smiled and said, "After we clean up the battlefield, we shall escort Your Highness into the capital to ascend the throne, to calm the people's hearts. Then we will offer sacrifices and announce the victory at the Imperial Ancestral Temple, and thoroughly exterminate the remnants of the two rebel forces! Your Highness will also bring about a prosperous resurgence, and your name will be passed down in the annals of history like that of Emperor Gaozong of Ming."

"Gaozong..."

The Crown Prince's heart surged with emotion. Looking at Wang Dou's broad, warm smile, a warm current welled up in his heart. He nodded firmly: "Yes, I entrust all important military and state affairs to the Grand Commander."

Wang Dou's great banner chariot sped down the mountain ridge. Wherever it passed, cheers surged like an ocean tide, and countless soldiers of the Jingbian Army raised their weapons to salute their commander.

Wang Dou steadied himself against the chariot, raising one hand to acknowledge the surrounding soldiers. Countless troops surged forward, crowding around the chariot and cheering for Wang Dou. Many of them had hot tears brimming in their eyes. At that moment, Wen Fangliang and Han Chao rushed over, both saying with tears, "Grand General, we have won."

Wang Dou nodded heavily and said, "Yes, we have won!"

He looked out at the boiling sea of men around him, and a sudden surge of emotion stirred in his heart. Every step along this path had been difficult. Along this journey, he had experienced too many people and events. His eyes suddenly grew moist; he remembered so much—so many people and so many things.

It seemed as if countless past events, countless images, flashed before his eyes, finally coalescing on his face into a smile.

He said, "Brother Wen, Brother Han, a new era is about to arrive. But our road is still very long, and I will walk it with you to the very end."

The military anthem rose, and finally the passionate singing merged into an ocean.

Amid the boiling tide, Wang Dou cast a thoughtful glance. The sunlight reflected off the sun-and-moon golden crown atop his banner cap, emitting a brilliant golden light.