Chapter 164: Hard Days

Shanhai Pass.

Wang Zaijin, who had long since been hauled up from Nanjing by the Chongzhen Emperor to serve as Governor-General of Ji-Liao at Shanhai Pass, stared grimly at the Embroidered Uniform Guard captain before him; even Sun Chengzong, who always stood at Wang Zaijin's side with the air of a man holding all the winning pieces, wore the same grim expression.

Of the entire Eight Banners of the Jianzhou barbarians, six had already been dispatched, driving straight for Dongjiang. In all of Shenyang, only the Plain Blue Banner and the Bordered White Banner remained to hold the city.

To Wang Zaijin's mind, this was like a heaven-sent meat pie dropping right into Great Ming's face.

If only Zhao Shuaijiao would return his army to Liaodong as the vanguard, and then they raised the full might of Shanhai Pass and drove straight for Shenyang, the Jianzhou barbarians' lair could be wiped out in one stroke.

Sun Chengzong, however, saw it quite differently.

Shenyang was not a large city, but that depended on what one compared it to. Measured against Great Ming's capital, Shenyang was a small town, yet in all of Liaodong, you could not find a sturdier fortress, for the Jianzhou barbarians had built Shenyang up as their very lair.

If they raised the whole army to assault Shenyang, not only would it fail to fall quickly, but leaving aside the Khorchin Tartars who served the Jianzhou barbarians like dogs, the mere prospect of the Jianzhou barbarians swinging their army back to relieve the city would all too easily turn the fight into a field battle.

And for the Ming army at this moment, fighting a field battle against the Jianzhou barbarians was plainly unrealistic. Great Ming's elite forces in Liaodong had long since been annihilated in the Shen-Liao campaign and the Battle of Sarhu.

To call what remained utter garbage would indeed be going too far, but to call them the elite of old would be pure nonsense.

Sun Chengzong, watching the barely suppressed excitement in Wang Zaijin's expression and fearing that Wang Zaijin might let his blood run hot and dare to raise the whole army for a dash at Shenyang, spoke up at once: "Huyun, surely you are not thinking of raising troops to strike at Shenyang?"

Wang Zaijin, catching the note of opposition in Sun Chengzong's words, replied immediately: "Indeed, that is exactly what I am thinking.

If we can take Shenyang, so much the better; even if we cannot, we can still force the Jianzhou barbarians to pull back their army and lift the threat to Dongjiang."

Sun Chengzong laughed. "A fine 'besiege Wei to rescue Zhao' — but turning the feint into a real assault simply will not do."

Wang Zaijin said: "Shenyang holds only the Jianzhou barbarians' Plain Blue Banner and Bordered White Banner. This is the moment their strength is at its hollowest. If we let this chance slip by, I fear we shall hardly find so good an opening again."

Sun Chengzong stroked his beard. "Then in Huyun's judgment, how long can Mao Wenlong hold out at Dongjiang?"

Mao Wenlong? The military readiness over at Dongjiang was even worse than at Shanhai Pass — how long he could hold was truly a question.

After a moment's deliberation, Wang Zaijin said: "In my humble judgment, given the fighting capacity of Mao Wenlong at Dongjiang, I fear he cannot hold for more than a month."

Sun Chengzong nodded, then continued: "This young brother of the Embroidered Uniform Guard brought the intelligence from Shenyang to here — even at top speed, it would take seven or eight days. By that time, I fear the Jianzhou barbarians are already nearing Benxi.

Once we are fully prepared and fight our way to the walls of Shenyang, I fear it will be a month at the soonest. And to say nothing of how many men Great Ming would lose just reaching Shenyang — even if we took the city, I fear it would be of little use."

Wang Zaijin, puzzled, said to Sun Chengzong: "I beg Grand Secretary Sun to enlighten me."

Sun Chengzong smoothed the long beard at his chest, then reached out and pointed over the map: "When I traveled to Joseon and Dongjiang on my previous mission, I made a careful study of the military readiness of both Dongjiang and Joseon.

Should the Jianzhou barbarians reach Dongjiang and Joseon, I fear they could take Dongjiang in half a month, and Joseon within a month."

Seeing Wang Zaijin fall silent, Sun Chengzong went on: "When that time comes, the Jianzhou barbarians will have gained Dongjiang and Joseon, and Great Ming will hold only the lone city of Shenyang — not defensible enough to hold, yet too precious to abandon.

If we keep pouring in reinforcements, can the court bear the cost? When the state treasury is bled dry, you and I shall both be sinners before Great Ming."

Wang Zaijin, hearing this, let out a sigh and said: "How could I not see the crux of the matter? But if we do not strike at Shenyang, how else can we draw the Jianzhou barbarians back?

If Dongjiang falls, Joseon will inevitably be forced into surrender by the Jianzhou barbarians, just as happened in the seventh year of Tianqi.

Once Mao Wenlong and Joseon are no longer there to pin the Jianzhou barbarians from the rear, and with those dog Tartars of Khorchin abetting their crimes, I fear the steppe too will fall into ruin, and in the end, Great Ming will find the encirclement reversed — instead of hemming in the Jianzhou barbarians, we shall be hemmed in by them."

Sun Chengzong said nothing. How could he not see the crux of the matter himself?

The original plan of besieging the Jianzhou barbarians to death had been ideal, but who could have guessed it would drive them to leap off the wall in desperation, staking everything on eliminating Dongjiang and Joseon first?

Zhao Shuaijiao, who had kept silent all along, saw both his superiors frowning and feared the two might ultimately decide to hold Shanhai Pass to the death.

He simply spoke up as well: "Grand Secretary Sun, Governor-General, in this humble officer's view, so long as we cannot abandon Dongjiang and Joseon, then we and the Jianzhou barbarians must have it out on the battlefield.

And what is more, to force the Jianzhou barbarians to turn their army back, we must not only fight — we must fight on a grand scale."

Wang Zaijin asked with interest: "What are Mingxu's thoughts?"

Zhao Shuaijiao cupped his hands in salute and said: "If the Jianzhou barbarians are truly set on eliminating Grand General Mao, I fear that whether we strike at Shenyang or not, they will press on toward Dongjiang all the same."

Sun Chengzong pondered for a long moment, then shook his head.

"For now, there is no way to judge how great the appetite of that whelp Hong Taiji truly is — whether he merely wants to eliminate Mao Wenlong, or means to use this chance to swallow Joseon.

It seems this battle must be fought whether we wish it or not. We had best submit a joint memorial, send it by the relay stations at eight-hundred-li express, and request His Majesty's sacred decision."

Wang Zaijin said: "If so, I am willing to append my name."

Zhao Shuaijiao also said: "This humble officer is likewise willing to append his name."

Just as Sun Chengzong and Wang Zaijin were dispatching their eight-hundred-li express military report, Chongzhen was also kneading a secret report from Liaodong with a splitting headache.

The Jianzhou barbarians had put on a show of having no more days left to live, raising six of the Eight Banners to strike at Dongjiang — by his count, a full forty thousand and more men, plus the sixty thousand troops of the Han Eight Banners, double the fifty thousand they had mustered the last time they besieged the capital.

Turning it over and over in his mind, Chongzhen realized that every one of these pits had been dug by his own hand.

First, he had deliberately let the Jianzhou barbarians besiege the capital and given them a nasty surprise; then came blockade after unrelenting blockade; and after that, Mao Wenlong kept stirring up trouble for the Jianzhou barbarians without cease.

Having not known a moment's peace all winter, the Jianzhou barbarians could now see that the harvest for the first year of Chongzhen — or the second year of the Manchu Qing Tiancong era — held little hope.

That whelp Hong Taiji had been driven to leap off the wall in desperation, and had probably seized on some random pretext to strike at Dongjiang and Joseon.

If he could knock out Mao Wenlong's Dongjiang garrison, he could force Joseon into surrender directly, then plunder Joseon to replenish his own losses.

And if he could not knock out Mao Wenlong's Dongjiang garrison, that hardly mattered either — men die in war, do they not?

Just send the Han Eight Banners out as cannon fodder to be expended, let a few more Manchus die off, and once the population was reduced, the remaining supplies would still last until next year's harvest came in.

Chongzhen, who had been privately admiring that whelp Hong Taiji's ruthless cruelty, now found himself utterly at a loss. The special imperial examination was to be held tomorrow, and the Jianzhou barbarians had picked today to bring him this delight. There was simply no way to live like this.

(End of Chapter)