Chapter 180: If They Do Not Die, Our Heart Cannot Be at Ease!

By the time the Duke of Ying, Zhang Weixian, and Qin Liangyu reached the Chongzhen Emperor's side, they were both secretly shaken at the sight of the Emperor with his hair loose and disheveled, and the mere thirty or forty thousand cavalry remaining behind him.

Of the fifty thousand cavalry originally fielded by the Capital Camps and the New Army, a rough glance showed barely half remained; the ten thousand horsemen cobbled together by the Prince of Shunyi and Khan Jorightu had not suffered too grievously, though only six or seven thousand were left, and only the three thousand iron cavalry of the Xibe tribe had relatively few killed in battle.

It was just that, whether the Capital Camps, the ten thousand horsemen, or the three thousand, every man bore wounds — the only difference being how large or small.

What truly alarmed Zhang Weixian and Qin Liangyu, however, was not that the battle losses were so heavy, but that despite such heavy losses, these thirty or forty thousand remaining cavalry had not collapsed and scattered.

That faint, almost imperceptible killing intent — others might not feel it, but how could the Duke of Ying, Zhang Weixian, and Qin Liangyu, both seasoned veterans of many campaigns, fail to sense it?

In Zhang Weixian's view, the old Capital Camps and New Army, though they had shown considerable results under his and Liu Xingzuo's reorganization and training, had merely possessed somewhat stronger discipline than other guard units.

As for combat strength, they were nothing like the Ming army of the founding era that had pursued fleeing foes, routed enemies, and thrashed the Mongol iron cavalry. The difference between the two could almost be described as the distance between heaven and earth.

But now, looking at them again, though their formations were slightly disordered, that arrogance — I am the greatest under heaven, whoever refuses to submit gets put to death — had at last manifested itself once more.

It could be said that the Ming army, whose very sinews had been broken since Tumu Fortress, had in this single battle cast off all its chronic maladies and risen to its feet again.

Zhang Weixian and Qin Liangyu had not accompanied the Chongzhen Emperor on the northern expedition this whole way and did not know how the Emperor had accomplished this, but in Liu Xingzuo's eyes, this emperor, who ordinarily showed little understanding of military affairs, was by nature the kind of existence destined to command ten thousand armies and sweep the six directions clean.

All the way north on campaign, all the way killing and conquering — by continuously annihilating small tribes, he had given the soldiers an unshakable conviction of certain victory and built up their confidence; by distributing spoils of war fairly and openly, he had cultivated in the soldiers a taste for campaigning; and through the act of cutting his hair in place of his head before the battle lines, he had roused their sense of shame and honor.

The effect of these multiple measures applied together was that this army of less than forty thousand men exerted a pressure far beyond forty thousand.

It was as if, even facing a million-man host, these forty thousand soldiers would not take them seriously in the slightest — so long as the Emperor gave the order, they would dare to charge straight into the enemy lines.

Whatever thoughts occupied Zhang Weixian and Qin Liangyu's minds, the most pressing matter at hand was to pay their respects to the Chongzhen Emperor first.

The Chongzhen Emperor, however, stopped the two from performing the ritual obeisance and spoke directly: "Dispense with the formalities for now. Order the soldiers you brought to join in clearing the battlefield. Apart from the warhorses, We want not a single living soul left of the Chahar tribe!"

Zhang Weixian was inwardly startled at these words. Since he was still unclear on the exact circumstances of what had happened, he could only remonstrate: "Your Majesty, since ancient times killing captives has been held inauspicious.

Would it not be better to spare these prisoners and put them to hard labor to atone for their crimes?"

Chongzhen merely gave a cold laugh and spat: "Ligdan Khan abducted Our Great Ming commoners and coerced Us into opening a path for him. If We do not slaughter every last one of these Chahar bastards clean today, how can We face the Great Ming commoners who have died?

Duke of Ying, spare your further counsel — so long as they live, Our heart cannot be at ease!"

Just as they were speaking, a soldier at that moment found the golden crown that had fallen to the ground when the Chongzhen Emperor cut his hair, and respectfully presented it to the Emperor.

Unexpectedly, the Chongzhen Emperor did not reach out to take the golden crown. Instead, he once more drew the short blade at his waist, seized his own hair, and hacked at it until it looked as though it had been gnawed by a dog.

Zhang Weixian and the others were about to remonstrate when they heard the Chongzhen Emperor declare in a ringing voice: "So long as the Mongols and Liaodong are not pacified for a single day, what face have We to meet the Great Ming commoners who have died in vain?

So long as the Tartar slaves are not exterminated for a single day, We shall not grow Our hair long for a single day, but shall show Ourself before all with short hair evermore!"

The soldiers of the Capital Camps and the New Army who were close to the Chongzhen Emperor, hearing the Emperor speak thus, drew their own blades one after another and cut off all their hair.

Those farther behind, upon hearing the words relayed by the soldiers in front, likewise fell silent for a moment before drawing their blades and cutting their hair.

For a time, across this stretch of steppe, cut locks of hair were everywhere, tossed by the wind. Before long, among the remaining cavalry of the Capital Camps and the New Army — a little over twenty thousand, not quite thirty thousand — not a single man still kept his long hair intact.

After Chongzhen remarked inwardly that the army's morale was ripe for use, he went on to say to the Duke of Ying, Zhang Weixian, and Qin Liangyu: "First clear the battlefield and finish off the wounded. Take the heads.

Tomorrow, when we have risen, we shall raise a mound of skulls. The rest we will discuss after we return."

The implication was clear — this mound of skulls would be built, no question.

Zhang Weixian smiled bitterly to himself at these words. When an emperor was bent on being willful, there truly was no good remedy.

Yet although the act of raising a mound of skulls — such a naked proclamation of martial achievement — was endlessly denounced by the literati, in his own heart he found it immensely gratifying.

He offered no further remonstrance, merely cupped his hands in salute, and personally led men to clear the battlefield.

At that moment, someone suddenly shouted: "There's one still alive here! A Great Ming commoner!"

Chongzhen, Zhang Weixian, and the others hurried over at once upon hearing this.

In the Chongzhen Emperor's view, to survive a pitched battle where over a hundred thousand men were hacking at each other — and a Great Ming commoner with his hands bound, at that — this was, damn it all, practically the template of a protagonist.

When Chongzhen and the others arrived, they saw two soldiers supporting a young man of fifteen or sixteen, dressed as a scholar, with red lips and white teeth.

Cursing inwardly — what a pretty boy — the Chongzhen Emperor put on an expression of deep concern and asked: "Young man, how are you now? Can you speak?"

The youth nodded feebly and said: "Your Majesty, forgive me — forgive this student for being unable to perform the proper obeisance."

Hearing the youth refer to himself as "this student," Chongzhen felt a twinge of displeasure, but still asked: "Where is your family?"

The youth looked around blankly in all directions. Realizing that not a single other person as fortunate as himself had survived, he wept as he choked out: "Reporting to Your Majesty, this student's surname is Liu, given name Xiaoyao.

I am originally a native of Xuanfu. Two days ago, I was accompanying my wife on a visit to her family when we were unfortunately seized by the Tartars.

Seeing that this student was a man of letters, the Tartars did not kill me, but of my family and kin, not a single one survived. When the great battle began, this student happened to be pinned beneath the person beside me, and thus escaped calamity."

Chongzhen was somber at these words. "This is Our fault. Rest assured, in the future, We shall certainly give you an accounting!"

The young scholar named Liu Xiaoyao shook his head and said: "It is no fault of Your Majesty. Had people like this student been taken into the great desert, I fear we would only have lived the lives of slaves, worse than pigs or dogs — better to have died cleanly."

Having recovered a little strength during this interval, Liu Xiaoyao suddenly broke free of the soldiers supporting him, knelt upon the ground, and kowtowed without ceasing: "I beg Your Majesty's grace — permit this student to join the army, to avenge these elders and fellow villagers who have died so cruelly!"

Chongzhen pondered for a long moment before saying: "You may accompany the great army for now. If you cannot endure the hardship, let this matter never be raised again."

Liu Xiaoyao knocked his head on the ground: "I thank Your Majesty for this grace! If this student cannot slaughter every last one of these dog Tartar slaves within my lifetime, I willingly accept death trampled by ten thousand horses!"

The Chongzhen Emperor nodded and ordered men to first help this scholar named Liu Xiaoyao away to rest. The rest continued clearing the battlefield.

By the time the entire battlefield had been thoroughly cleared, the moon was already at its zenith and the hour had reached the latter half of the night. The dry rations carried by the tens of thousands of cavalry under Chongzhen's command were nearly exhausted.

Fortunately, there were cattle and sheep left behind by the Chahar herders after they had been scattered and slaughtered, and so another round of campfire barbecue feasting ensued.

The soldiers, roasting whole sheep and cuts of beef around cluster after cluster of campfires, did not seem to mind the thick, almost un-dissipating stench of blood that lingered after the great battle.

Amid the piled corpses and severed limbs, the utterly exhausted men, once they had eaten their fill, slept sprawled every which way.

Apart from the night scouts dispatched to stand watch, the Chongzhen Emperor, Zhang Weixian, and the others also did not sleep. They moved constantly among the soldiers, now and then helping to pull blankets back over men who had kicked them off.

It was not until the sky began to lighten toward dawn that the Chongzhen Emperor hurriedly slept for a short while.

The Chongzhen Emperor was young, after all, and this was his first time personally leading troops in such a massive cavalry clash. He rose after only a brief sleep.

In truth, thinking back on it still sent chills through him — nearly two hundred thousand men hacking at each other on this stretch of steppe, and he himself had been the one leading the charge at the very front.

Chongzhen felt that his not dying was entirely due to the halo of a transmigrator enveloping him — or perhaps, was he the Child of the Plane in this dimension?

After Chongzhen rose, Zhang Weixian, Qin Liangyu, and the others, roused by their own personal guards, also came to Chongzhen's side.

Gazing at the mound of skulls that was gradually rising before them, Chongzhen said: "Erect a stone stele and inscribe upon it: 'In the first year of Chongzhen of the Great Ming, the Great Ming Emperor led his troops on a northern campaign and defeated the Mongol Ligdan Khan at this place.

One hundred thousand of the enemy were slain. Because they had abducted Great Ming commoners, all were beheaded and their skulls piled into a mound here, to serve as a warning to those who, like beasts, feed upon human flesh!'"

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Assassinate Sun Jian, earn Lü Bu, oppose Cao Cao, fight Zhongda! A youth of mediocre talent plays out an unconventional path.

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(End of Chapter)