Chapter 175: The Chongzhen Emperor Personally Hacks Men to Death

At the command of Chongzhen, the three thousand riders of the Sibe tribe let out a roaring cry and spurred their horses straight toward the pastures of the Khouchid tribe. As they advanced, they gradually spread out into a wider formation.

The several dozen riders at the head carried no sabers; instead, they held lassos. When they drew near the pasture fences, with a sharp "Hey!" they flung the already spinning lassos from their hands, looping them directly around the fence posts.

Then, hauling on their reins, they dragged the fences aside and galloped off to both flanks.

Seeing the fences dragged open, the cavalry in the rear ranks kicked hard at their horses' bellies and surged forward at full speed.

At this moment, Chongzhen could no longer suppress the surge of emotion in his chest — whether excitement or something else, he could not tell.

He snatched the saber specially prepared for him on this expedition from the hands of an Inner Depot guard beside him, kicked his horse's belly violently, and charged ahead.

The faint unease he had originally felt — or perhaps the queasiness from having witnessed too much slaughter — had long since been flung beyond the ninth heaven by the thundering spectacle of a massed cavalry charge.

Seeing the Chongzhen Emperor charge in person, Fang Zhenghua and the other Inner Depot guards behind and around him also tugged their reins and followed close behind.

The Khouchid tribe was no stronger than the Sünid tribe — likewise a group of about five thousand people. And as ill luck would have it, the tribe's cavalry had all followed Ligdan Khan south to Xuanfu. What use could the fewer than five hundred cavalry left to guard the tribe possibly be?

Seeing that the men surrounding their tribe had no intention of even talking, and instead were dragging open the fences to charge straight in, the remaining Khouchid cavalry, knowing in their hearts that there was little chance of escape today, grew desperate.

First they loosed a volley of arrows, hoping to slow the charge for a moment, then they too kicked hard at their horses' bellies, praying only that their mounts could build up speed within this short distance.

But they never imagined that the Khouchid defenders' arrow volley would prove utterly useless.

Chongzhen, having long resolved to win over the Sibe cavalry properly, had not exactly armed these three thousand riders to the teeth — but when it came to armor and helmets, every single man was fully equipped.

Moreover, the Khouchid defenders had loosed their arrows from too great a distance.

When the volley fell, apart from four or five unlucky riders at the head whose horses were struck and who were thrown to the ground, the others showed no reaction at all, simply shouting and whooping as they brandished their sabers and charged forward.

In the time it took that volley of arrows to fall, the cavalry of both sides had already made formal contact.

A cavalry clash is nothing like what is shown in the movies — all that saber-swinging and slashing, or hiding alongside the horse in the stirrups and other fancy tricks. Both sides held their sabers or long lances braced along the right side of their bodies.

The sheer speed of the charging warhorses on both sides provided all the acceleration needed for the saber blade to slice open an opponent's body. If one tried to hack and chop, the back-and-forth motion would actually give the opponent time to dodge.

The three thousand riders of the Sibe tribe had long since formed themselves into an arrowhead formation as they charged, and they crashed into the arrowhead formation of the Khouchid defenders.

The sound of bones snapping as the warhorses of both sides collided; the faint, barely audible sound of sabers slicing through muscle and flesh; the agonized howls of wounded cavalrymen; the dull, muffled thuds of fallen riders being trampled beneath the hooves of warhorses — all these together struck up the overture to a harvest of lives.

Fewer than five hundred cavalry against three thousand cavalry who had long been prepared — what outcome could there possibly be?

Both sides used the same arrowhead formation — that is, a triangular formation, with more men toward the rear. The advantage of this formation is that one's rear and flanks are always protected by one's own men, allowing one to charge forward without worry.

However, this formation also places high demands on the troops. If the two sides are roughly equal in numbers, it will develop into the kind of cavalry battle seen in later television dramas or movies, with the warhorses of both sides intermingling and the riders hacking at each other with blades.

But if there is a great disparity in numbers, the side with fewer men will usually suffer. Once the arrowhead tip of the formation has been worn away, it becomes extremely easy for the side with more men to encircle them.

That was exactly the situation now. Before they could even break through the opposing formation, the Khouchid defenders could no longer maintain their arrowhead.

The tip of the formation was long since dead beyond dead. The remaining cavalry, now without the tip to lead the charge, numbered around four hundred riders.

The Sibe cavalry, by contrast, had suffered few losses. Thanks to the armor protection on which the Chongzhen Emperor had spared no expense, hardly any of their men had been unhorsed in the clash just now.

Having pierced through the Khouchid cavalry, the Sibe riders wheeled their horses around, kicked their mounts' bellies, and swept back to attack — thus perfectly encircling the remaining Khouchid cavalry in a ring.

The Sibe cavalry had originally planned to use this encirclement to employ the tactic of surrounding and shooting, annihilating them with arrows. But no one had expected that at this moment, the Chongzhen Emperor would also charge over.

A complete greenhorn on the battlefield, how could the Chongzhen Emperor know anything of these steppe cavalrymen's surrounding-and-shooting tactics?

Knowing only how to hack at men with a saber, the Chongzhen Emperor, relying on his fully armed and armored preparations, simply raised his saber and plunged straight into the fray.

At this moment, Wanyan Cheng, who had wheeled his horse back around, saw the Chongzhen Emperor charge in. He had no choice but to set down his bow, draw his saber once more, and charge in as well.

Thus, the originally planned surrounding-and-shooting tactic was thoroughly ruined, turned by the greenhorn Chongzhen into a chaotic melee of individual duels.

The Chongzhen Emperor, still unaware of how much chaos he had caused, was now growing excited. Perhaps in every true man's heart there lurks a bloodthirsty urge to kill.

No matter how well hidden it usually is, once on the battlefield, under the stimulation of a massive surge of adrenaline, it will be thoroughly unleashed.

That was exactly the case with the greenhorn Chongzhen Emperor at this moment. Seeing a Khouchid cavalryman right in front of him, Chongzhen was overjoyed and directly raised his saber to chop down.

Morigen was a famed archer of the Khouchid tribe. Though he could not be called an eagle-shooter or a Jebe, his extraordinary skill with the bow still earned him great renown within the Khouchid tribe.

Having his tribe surrounded was infuriating enough, and these bastards surrounding his tribe — who knew where they came from — were wrapped up tight in armor, he could not tell if it was iron or steel.

When he hacked at one with his blade, he could not even break through the armor. And now, to top it off, this smooth-faced Han boy in front of him, who looked barely twenty, was raising a saber at him too?

Feeling profoundly insulted, Morigen lost all reason in his fury and recklessly swung his saber to meet the blade the Chongzhen Emperor was bringing down on him.

As long as his own strength was great enough, he could usually cleave an opponent's weapon in two. Then he would reverse his stroke and kill this smooth-faced Han boy, letting him know that Master Morigen was not to be trifled with.

But Morigen overlooked one thing. Cleaving an opponent's weapon in two by relying on great strength or extreme speed — such things do happen, but the premise is that the quality of the two weapons is roughly comparable.

How could the saber in the Chongzhen Emperor's hand, and the full set of equipment on his body, possibly compare to the saber in Morigen's hand?

Every single scale-leaf of the bright silver chainmail on Chongzhen's body had been polished one by one by master craftsmen of the imperial palace from hundred-refined fine steel, then threaded together with cords twisted from gold wire mixed with the hide of a rare iron-thread snake.

Even if Chongzhen stood still on the ground and let him hack away, Morigen might not be able to cut through it.

As for the saber in Chongzhen's hand, it was forged entirely from hundred-refined steel, with fine hemp cord wrapped around the hilt to absorb sweat, ensuring it would not slip from his grip.

Thus, the moment Morigen's saber met the saber in Chongzhen's hand, it was like mutton fat meeting a hot knife — it cleaved cleanly and satisfyingly into two pieces. Morigen, a battle-hardened veteran, was horrified. With no time to think, he immediately leaned and dodged to the left.

Had it been anyone else, they would likely have followed through and cut him down. But Chongzhen was, after all, still a bit of a greenhorn. Startled by the poor quality of his opponent's weapon, when Chongzhen saw Morigen trying to dodge, he reversed his stroke and slashed toward Morigen's thigh.

This stroke sliced open a wound deep enough to show bone on Morigen's thigh. Its momentum undiminished, the blade continued and cut into the warhorse beneath Morigen — the gash was so deep that the horse's ribs were visible.

With such a gash cut into it, the warhorse went wild with pain. Its forehooves reared up into the air as it let out a shrill neigh and bolted forward. Morigen had no choice but to grit his teeth against the pain and cling tightly to the horse's neck, praying only that he would not fall off.

At this moment, an Inner Depot eunuch following behind seized the opportunity and directly hacked his blade into the horse's head. The headless warhorse charged forward two more steps before crashing to the ground.

Morigen was thrown from the horse and was trampled to death by the other warhorses then and there.

Chongzhen, however, knew nothing of all this. At this moment, Chongzhen was recklessly and relentlessly cutting his way toward the other Khouchid cavalrymen.

Fang Zhenghua, inwardly groaning in distress, could only follow close behind. His Imperial Majesty wanted to personally hack at men with a blade — what could he do?

He could only let His Majesty hack away, while still having to ensure His Majesty's safety and prevent anyone from actually wounding His Majesty. To be saddled with an emperor like this was truly the worst luck in eight lifetimes!

Chongzhen hacked at fewer than ten men — to be more precise, the Khouchid cavalrymen personally hacked to death by the Chongzhen Emperor numbered only four or five. The rest were wounded by him and then finished off by the guard eunuchs of the Inner Depot.

According to later historical records: "The Emperor campaigned against the Mongols, pacified the Khouchid tribe, and beheaded five men." It was this very number "five" that would set later historians of the Great Ming quarreling furiously.

One side argued that if a tribe was pacified, it was impossible that only five people were killed.

The other side argued that the great Chongzhen Emperor had mobilized such forces only to hack five Khouchid people to death, so it could not be called a pacification of the Khouchid tribe at all.

As for how later generations would record it, the Chongzhen Emperor had no interest in knowing. Even if he was recorded as a figure like Jie and Zhou or Heavenly King Wuchuo, what of it? After he was dead, he would know nothing anyway. Right now, killing people was what mattered.

In truth, though killing people was what mattered, it did not take long at all.

In less than the time it takes for half a stick of incense to burn, the three thousand riders of the Sibe tribe had thoroughly slaughtered the several hundred Khouchid cavalry left to guard the tribe, and then charged once more toward the herders in the Khouchid pastures.

In less time than it takes to drink a cup of tea, Wanyan Cheng returned, covered in blood, to report: "I report to Your Majesty: not a single living soul remains among the Khouchid tribe."

The Chongzhen Emperor, who was fond of building burial mounds of skulls, laughed and said: "You shall clean up the battlefield and build a burial mound of skulls here."

(End of Chapter)