Chapter 299: You Take Shanhai Pass, I'll Take Shandong

Bombarding Zhenjiang City, wiping out Zhongjiang Island, and burning Fenghuang City to the ground.

Leng'e Li, Ying'e'erdai, and a dozen or so officials of various ranks had all vanished without a trace—the command system had been wiped out in one fell swoop, and the entire defensive line along the Yalu River was fraught with panic, with every bush and tree seeming like an enemy soldier.

Three Han Chinese village communities took this opportunity to rebel en masse and migrate toward the banks of the Yalu River.

The great rear base of the Great Jin—originally a grain-producing heartland and a frontier trade frontline with the Joseon dynasty—had now become a complete mess!

Since Hong Taiji had taken charge of governance, the Great Jin had never suffered such a disastrous defeat.

Even in the Battle of Changsheng Island, the Plain Blue Banner had only lost able-bodied men and soldiers.

But Leng'e Li was one of the Eight Great Gushan Ejen, and Ying'e'erdai was the Minister of Revenue! These were core high-ranking officials.

The enemy had also captured Zhongjiang Island, and half of the eight major government merchants engaged in frontier trade had been lost in one stroke. For the next year or two, the Zhongjiang trade market probably wouldn't even be able to reopen! And if the Joseon dynasty saw the Great Jin in such a weakened state, they might even harbor thoughts of rebellion.

The excellent situation in Liaodong that Hong Taiji had painstakingly built over several years had been shattered into a precarious state by a single bolt from the blue.

He couldn't catch his breath, feeling only a searing pain in his chest. Forcing himself to order all the ministers to withdraw, leaving only the Beiles present, he then asked, "Who did this?"

The messenger said, "It's not yet clear. Zhenjiang's report says it was a flood dragon emerging, and Fenghuang City says it was the Guanning Army."

The Beiles were utterly baffled upon hearing words like "flood dragon" and "Guanning Army."

Dai Shan asked in confusion, "Could it be that old bone Sun Chengzong is making moves again?"

The messenger glanced at Hong Taiji. Hong Taiji understood that such a massive defeat couldn't be hidden, so he waved his hand to let the messenger speak.

When the messenger finished, all the Beiles felt it sounded like a tale from the Arabian Nights.

What nonsense—a divine dragon appearing in the thick fog of the Yalu River, and the Guanning Army descending like heavenly troops outside Fenghuang City. All of it was utter fabrication.

If the Ming army truly had such abilities, they would have used them long ago in the Battle of Guangning and the Battle of Liaoshen—why wait until now?

After the Beiles raised a chorus of doubts, a suspicion began to form in the depths of their hearts.

Since the Old Khan had raised his banner, the Eight Banners' iron cavalry had won a hundred battles out of a hundred, sweeping all before them—they had suffered major losses only twice: once at the Battle of Zhenjiang, and once at the Battle of Fuzhou.

And both times, their opponent had happened to be Lin Qian. Could it be that this time...

"It's Lin Qian's Nan'ao Army!" Hong Taiji gritted his teeth and said with hatred.

Dai Shan feigned surprise and said, "Didn't Fourth Beile previously say that he would divide the realm with Lin Qian, using the Yangtze River as the boundary?"

Manggūltai slammed his fist onto the small table: "I've been saying all along that this mad dog Lin Qian bears a blood-deep grudge against us—there's no way he'd ally with us to attack the Ming!"

Hong Taiji's expression turned even uglier.

Dorgon offered a way out: "Now is not the time to argue about who's right or wrong. In my view, the top priority now is to recover the lost territory—take back Fenghuang City and Zhenjiang City! And then capture Leng'e Li and bring him to justice!"

Although he said not to argue about right and wrong now, his words still placed the blame on Leng'e Li's head, which was a way of saving some face for his fourth brother, Hong Taiji. Hong Taiji closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, quickly calming himself down, then commanded: "Dorgon, Dodo—you two brothers take the elite troops of the Two White Banners and rush to Fenghuang City at once to repel the enemy."

"Yes!" The two brothers acknowledged the order and were about to leave when Hong Taiji called them back.

"I will dispatch the Ujen Cooha to assist you. Remember, Lin Qian is extremely cunning and skilled with firearms—do not engage him lightly until the cannons arrive!" "Yes!" The two brothers acknowledged and departed.

Hong Taiji then assigned tasks to each Beile, ordering them to maintain order and reassure the people.

During the discussion, a personal guard from the Plain Yellow Banner entered, saying that Nurhaci wanted to see Hong Taiji.

Since the sixth year of Tianqi, although Nurhaci had handed over state affairs to Hong Taiji, he had always kept the military strength of the Two Yellow Banners firmly in his own hands.

Hong Taiji, whether by reason of duty or filial piety, dared not ignore his father Khan's summons and had to rush over immediately.

After entering the bedchamber, Nurhaci first asked about the situation of the battle. Hong Taiji knelt on the ground and reported everything he knew.

What followed was a torrent of scolding from Nurhaci, raining down on his head.

"... I told you long ago—don't learn those Han Chinese ways.

The Great Ming venerates Confucius, establishes the Six Ministries, and uses civil officials to govern the state—but what was the result?

The country was thrown into chaos by those civil officials and ministers, suffering defeat after defeat, allowing us Jurchens to seize the realm beyond the Pass.

Now you're learning all this filthy Han nonsense—it will lead the Great Jin down the same old road as those southern barbarians!

Our Jurchens built our nation on horseback archery, on fire and blood, on real swords and real spears! Not on memorizing books, not on pen-pushing! This disastrous defeat is heaven's lesson to you!"

Nurhaci was now nearly seventy, his hair completely white, his body stooped—all the wounds from battles fought in his youth had come back to haunt him, and his health had deteriorated greatly in recent years. So although he didn't approve of Hong Taiji's actions, he lacked the energy to discipline him, and since no major problems had arisen, he had turned a blind eye.

But now that such a major incident had occurred, he could no longer stay silent and let things go uncorrected.

Though he had been bedridden for a long time, his aura when angered was still utterly terrifying.

After roaring for a while, Nurhaci sat down on a chair to calm himself, then said, "Stop all that nonsense of yours—and no more of this civil examination business. The Great Jin is the Jurchens' Great Jin; we can't let too many Han Chinese get mixed up in it."

"No."

"What did you say?" Nurhaci's eyes bulged wide.

Hong Taiji mustered his courage, looked his father Khan straight in the eyes, and said calmly, "Father Khan, our Jurchen horseback archery can conquer a realm, but it cannot govern one!

All the Jurchens together number no more than a hundred-some thousand, while the Han Chinese of the Central Plains number no fewer than ten million. Holding a sword hilt can only make people fear you—it cannot make them submit. If we wish to rule the many with the few, we must use the pen!"

"Kill anyone who refuses to submit!"

"We can't kill them all! Even if ten Han Chinese were exchanged for one Jurchen, it would still be enough to destroy our nation and wipe out our clan!"

Hong Taiji grew more and more agitated as he spoke.

"Father Khan, it has been over forty years since you raised your banner with thirteen suits of armor, and we have barely managed to occupy a single province of the Great Ming's Liaodong.

Meanwhile, Lin Qian in the southeast raised his banner in the twelfth year of Tianming (the seventh year of Tianqi, 1627)—in just four years since, he has already taken the three provinces of Fujian, Guangdong, and Guangxi into his grasp, with territory more than three times that of the Great Jin.

And while facing off against Yuan Chonghuan, he still had the spare strength to send warships to harass our rear—what does he rely on? He relies on this!" Hong Taiji took an object from his bosom and placed it on the table. On its front were written four large characters: "Nan'ao Times." The headline of the front-page lead article read: "Three Tumbledown Tiled Houses Cannot Buy Peace and Prosperity for the Nation."

This was the final edition of the Nan'ao Times that Lin Qian had published before raising his banner in the first month of the seventh year of Tianqi. The article "Three Tumbledown Tiled Houses" was a declaration of war written under the pretext of the Emperor's renovation of the Three Great Halls.

After Hong Taiji had obtained this newspaper through many hands, he treasured it like a precious gem, carrying it on his person at all times and taking it out from time to time to read and reread.

From then on, he bought and read every single issue without fail. Not only did he read it himself, but he also purchased large quantities from maritime merchants and distributed them to the Beiles and ministers to read. The Nan'ao Times was not sold north of Zhejiang.

Hong Taiji's newspapers were all bought at great expense from Shandong maritime merchants—a single copy cost more than ten times what it did in Fujian, and due to the long-distance transport, its timeliness was even worse than the Great Ming's Capital Gazette.

Yet Hong Taiji remained utterly devoted to it. What he was reading was not the Great Ming's Capital Gazette reprinted in the newspaper—he was studying how Lin Qian mobilized the common people and swayed their hearts!

In that issue of "Three Tumbledown Tiled Houses," besides the declaration of war, the most written-about content was the achievements of Nan'ao's governance—such as abolishing the Liaodong levy and customary fees, surveying and registering land, and selling cheap charcoal, brown sugar, and the like.

Before Nurhaci raised his banner, he too had written a declaration of war, called the "Seven Grievances," written entirely from the perspective of the Jianzhou Jurchens, detailing how the Ming dynasty had treated the Jianzhou Jurchens unjustly.

Not to mention the Liaodong people and common folk, even the Jurchen Yehe and Hada tribes fell within the scope of the manifesto's attacks.

The document even contained logical contradictions within a single piece—on one hand accusing the Great Ming of meddling in Jurchen affairs, on the other accusing the Great Ming of standing by idly during Jurchen infighting—not to mention numerous passages taken out of context and claims that turned truth on its head.

Compared to the spirit of Lin Qian's manifesto—pleading for the people's lives, seeking to bring peace to the world—the Seven Grievances' scope was as low as it could possibly be. No wonder that once Lin Qian raised his banner, prefectures and counties across Guangdong and Fujian responded one after another, surrendering upon hearing the proclamation; and when the Jurchen soldiers arrived, even the women and children of Liaodong took up arms to resist.

It was this very newspaper that made Hong Taiji deeply aware of the gap between the Great Jin and Nan'ao, and even the Great Ming—hence his many benevolent governing measures. Nurhaci glanced down at the ground and asked, "What is this?"

Hong Taiji truthfully reported everything he had been thinking.

Nurhaci flew into a rage upon hearing it, slamming the table hard: "You bastard! You—ah!"

Mid-sentence, Nurhaci suddenly cried out in agony.

Hong Taiji scrambled to his feet, at a loss: "Father Khan! Father Khan?"

Nurhaci's face was twisted in extreme pain; he could no longer speak, and soon tumbled from his chair.

Hong Taiji sent someone to fetch the physician while he himself lifted his father and laid him flat on the bed.

By now Nurhaci was in such pain that cold sweat covered his forehead; he squeezed words out through clenched teeth: "On my belly, on my belly..."

Hong Taiji's heart stirred—he had roughly guessed the illness—and helped turn him over. Just then the physician and the Great Consort Abahai arrived, and Hong Taiji withdrew from the room. An hour later, the physician had barely left the residence when he encountered Hong Taiji's men.

The physician knew which way the wind blew and made no fuss; he boarded a carriage that circled the city several times before arriving at the rear gate of Hong Taiji's mansion. He was led to a dark chamber, where a voice from the shadows asked, "What illness does the Old Khan suffer from?"

"It... it is a back carbuncle."

"Why did you not report this before?"

"Fourth Beile, please see clearly... Your subordinate truly did not know before. This illness commonly strikes in the army and is terminal. Perhaps the Old Khan knew it in his heart and simply never had anyone examine him."

In the darkness, Hong Taiji was silent for a moment. What the physician said was the truth—when Nurhaci's illness flared, he had to lie on his belly, which had already given Hong Taiji his suspicion. "Father Khan... how much longer does he have?"

"Roughly... roughly..."

"Speak plainly!"

"This illness is acute—from onset to passing, usually no more than a month. The Old Khan is advanced in years, so I fear... only a few days remain." In the darkness, Hong Taiji let out a barely perceptible sigh. He quickly suppressed the grief in his heart and asked, "Did the Old Khan say anything to you? Who else knows of this?"

"He said nothing. But the Great Consort was present, and her expression showed no surprise—she must have known long ago."

"Understood. You may go." Hong Taiji waved his hand, dismissing the physician.

He sat alone in the darkness for a long while, then asked, "Have the Dorgon brothers departed?"

From the darkness, Hong Taiji's subordinate replied, "The two are still mustering their troops; they have not yet set out."

"Order them to march immediately!"

"And send men to keep watch on all the Beiles and ministers—especially the Great Consort. In times like these, we cannot afford any disturbance."

Moments later, in the Plain White Banner camp, Dorgon received Hong Taiji's message urging him to march.

Dorgon acknowledged the order. Dodo stepped forward and said, "Brother, we can muster eight hundred cavalry right now—more than enough to deal with Lin Qian's ragtag rabble! Since Fourth Brother has given the order, shall we set out now?"

Dorgon gazed toward Shenyang, a vague unease stirring in his heart.

Fourth Brother had told them at court to be wary of Lin Qian and not to engage lightly—now he was urging them to march. The two seemed somewhat contradictory. After pondering for a moment, Dorgon decided he was overthinking it and said to his younger brother, "Eight hundred men it is, then. We march!"

At Dodo's command, the camp gates swung open, and eight hundred elite soldiers of the Two White Banners, torches in hand, streamed out like a river of fire, heading straight southeast.

No sooner had the two brothers left than the Great Consort Abahai's secret envoy arrived—and was intercepted by the men Hong Taiji had sent to take over the Two White Banners' defenses. In the dark chamber of Hong Taiji's mansion, the envoy was beaten half to death and confessed that Nurhaci had summoned the two brothers, that the oral decree had been conveyed by the Great Consort, and that what they were to do had not been stated.

Hong Taiji summoned Daišan and Manggūltai that very night and briefed them on the situation.

If Nurhaci truly had a sudden impulse to make Dorgon his successor, then the Three Great Beiles would all be trampled underfoot.

Dorgon's steady temperament might be manageable, but that brat Dodo was at odds with Manggūltai and Daišan at every turn.

And there was also the twenty-four-year-old Ajige, another son of Abahai, who now shared command of the Plain White Banner with Dorgon—no pushover either. Daišan and Manggūltai naturally supported Hong Taiji's succession.

Conveniently, the Dorgon brothers had already been dispatched from Shenyang—this was the perfect opportunity to strike.

Hong Taiji weighed the matter repeatedly, then said, "Father Khan is gravely ill and unconscious—it must be that the Great Consort Abahai forged the decree. In my view, we need only silence the Great Consort, and all matters will be resolved."

The three brothers fell silent for a moment, then Manggūltai said, "Have her buried alive with him!"

Two days later, at dawn, Mao Wenlong slowly came to, feeling his hands and feet ice-cold, his body weak, and his throat parched with a fierce dry cough.

Seeing Mao Wenlong awake, Kong Youde shouted joyfully: "Regional Commander! The Regional Commander is awake!"

The wounded soldiers recuperating in the same tent all crowded over, chattering with concern and well-wishes.

Before long, a military physician came over, dispersed the crowd, and took Mao Wenlong's pulse. "His life is saved, but his qi and blood are depleted—he still needs rest." The physician was extremely busy; after taking the pulse, he hurried off to tend elsewhere.

Mao Wenlong asked, "Where are we?"

Kong Youde said, "This is Zhongjiang Island—all the wounded have been settled here. Regional Commander, you wouldn't know this, but our method of wiping blood with cloth was wrong. The Nan'ao medical officers said there's poison in the water and on the hands, so we were wiping poison into the wounds...

The Nan'ao medical officers used strong liquor to cleanse your wounds, drew out the poison, and administered secret medicines—that's the only way your life was saved...

And many of our brothers' lives were saved the same way."

Mao Wenlong propped himself up and looked around the tent—sure enough, he saw many wounded soldiers. Peering through the gap in the tent flap, he saw many more such tents beyond. In these times, taking an arrow wound meant nine deaths out of ten; judging by the number of tents, he could tell many of his men had survived.

Mao Wenlong's heart was with his troops, and he proposed going out to inspect the camp.

Kong Youde hesitated: "The physician ordered you to rest..."

Mao Wenlong glared: "Help me up!"

Kong Youde dared not disobey. He helped him out of the tent and walked with him through the camp, telling him everything he had learned along the way.

"The Tartars on the island have all been captured, and the Joseon folk were sent to the south shore. Fleets are watching both the northern and southern waterways—the island is very safe..." "... Enggeder was captured too, sent to Nan'ao—they say he'll be publicly executed..."

"Commander Bai built a skull mound outside Zhenjiang city walls, using over four hundred Tartar heads... and held a grand memorial ceremony for General Chen Liangce..." "Who?" Mao Wenlong asked. There was no such person in either the Dongjiang Army or the Nan'ao Army.

Kong Youde said, "He was the Zhenjiang Mobile Corps Commander in the first year of Tianqi. He was later forced to surrender to the Tartars. When Battalion Commander He attacked Zhenjiang, he raised troops in revolt, abandoned darkness for light, and in the end used himself as bait, dying together with that Tartar dog Amin."

"Oh!" Mao Wenlong remembered now. The man was a hero—a pity Mao Wenlong had never had the chance to meet him.

That the Nan'ao Army still remembered him stirred a warm current in Mao Wenlong's heart.

Compared to how the living men of Dongjiang Town were nearly forgotten by the court, a man dead for ten years could still receive memorial rites from the Nan'ao Army—it could not help but stir a sigh. Kong Youde finished with the memorial ceremony, then began chattering on, expressing his admiration for the skull mound.

This skull mound had been built using the method Chen Liangce had taught—it looked like a pyramid on the outside, but with four hundred heads it looked far more magnificent than the one from ten years ago. He truly wished he could see what a skull mound built from a hundred thousand Tartar heads would look like.

"... Commander Bai said that in another day or two, once the skull mound is finished, we'll withdraw from here..."

Mao Wenlong noticed several clerks weaving through the camp, conversing with soldiers and jotting things down, and asked, "What are those people doing?" Kong Youde said, "Oh, those are clerks from Nan'ao, recording the casualties and the wounded."

Mao Wenlong was greatly puzzled: "What's the point of recording that?"

"They say it's for compensation. Each soldier killed in battle gets ten silver dollars, plus monthly pay. Wounded soldiers get money too, and are also assigned some livelihood."

The Dongjiang garrison was an integrated military-civilian unit—though these soldiers had fallen, their families were all on Pidao, so compensation could be delivered to the proper households.

But Mao Wenlong still confirmed: "Wait, what do you mean, compensation? Who's paying it?"

"Commander Bai says the Nan'ao army will pay it."

"Wh—... ah?" Mao Wenlong stopped in his tracks and confirmed, "Nan'ao will pay? Why would they? Even the imperial court doesn't..."

He choked mid-sentence.

Throughout history, when soldiers died on Pidao, even the Great Ming court paid no compensation—and Nan'ao was going to? What did this have to do with them?

"Commander Bai says that once the people of the Dongjiang garrison relocate from Pidao, they become subjects under Nan'ao's rule. And this battle was fought for us Han people—whether Ming or Nan'ao, it makes no difference. Naturally compensation must be paid, and paid in full. Any official, regardless of rank, who embezzles a single silver dollar will face decapitation." Mao Wenlong stood frozen on the spot, unable to recover for a long while.

He now understood why the Nan'ao army was unstoppable in battle—from weapons and wages to medics and compensation, they were far superior to the Ming army in every way. How could they not win?

He also understood why Nan'ao officers all loved their soldiers like sons, shelling without regard for cost and rarely closing in for melee combat. This compensation was simply too high—five hundred men meant five thousand taels!

Mao Wenlong stammered: "Then... then did Commander Bai say anything about what we... the ones who survived... should do?" Kong Youde shook his head.

Mao Wenlong let out a self-deprecating laugh: "No matter. At least the fallen brothers have been given their due."

After walking a few more steps, he said, "By the way, how did the battle at Fenghuang City go? How much of the Tartars' grain did we burn?"

Kong Youde grinned darkly: "I don't know."

Mao Wenlong cursed angrily: "Then why are you grinning if you don't know!"

Kong Youde said with a aggrieved tone: "When I rode out of the city, I saw the whole of Fenghuang City going up in flames. The Tartar soldiers were so frantic to put out the fires first that they only chased us afterward. I imagine the grain stores can't be small—should be... ten thousand shi, maybe?"

At the same time, standing amid the scorched earth of Fenghuang City, Dorgon's face was full of shock.

"A full thirty thousand shi?"

The defender of Fenghuang City knelt to the ground: "This officer is guilty..."

"Thirty thousand shi of grain! Do you know how much thirty thousand shi is? That's three million six hundred thousand jin!" Dorgon cursed. "That's enough to feed thirty thousand battle troops at full ration for an entire month! All burned?"

The defender of Fenghuang City said: "The enemy used many kinds of fire weapons—first they breached the gates with explosives, then burned with fire oil. That fire was unnatural; it could burn on brick and stone and walls, and water only made it spread more fiercely..."

"Samadhi fire, is it?" Dodo sneered in reply.

"And fifty thousand bundles of fodder..." Dorgon grabbed a handful of black ash from the ground. This had been enough fodder to feed five thousand war horses for a month, and now it was all scattered ash.

To the prosperous Central Plains, thirty thousand shi of grain and fifty thousand bundles of fodder meant nothing, but to Liaodong, which lacked food and supplies, this blow was far too heavy.

Though it wouldn't starve anyone to death, it would certainly drive grain prices soaring, and next year's siege of Daling River would be affected as well.

The Joseon court would also grow restless because of this, and the frontier trade market would likely become unsustainable.

One hair pulled moves the whole body.

Dorgon couldn't help but feel a headache coming on for his Fourth Brother and the Great Jin.

Dodo said: "Brother, stop hesitating. Let's go to Zhenjiang and kill those southern barbarians for revenge!"

"It was the Dongjiang soldiers—Mao Wenlong's men who did this!" the defender of Fenghuang City added.

Though they hadn't exchanged names before the fight, he recognized the Liaodong accent and fighting style.

Dorgon shook his head: "Things have come to this. Chasing after them won't get the grain back, and advancing blindly will only make us fall into the enemy's trap. First, send someone to report the losses at Fenghuang City to Fourth Brother."

Dorgon's messenger galloped at full speed and entered Shenyang a day later.

When Hong Taiji received the news, he was shocked and furious, but quickly calmed down. Pacing back to his chamber, he took out six letters and summoned a death-sworn agent. "Ride a fast horse to Zhenjiang and deliver these six letters personally into Lin Qian's hands, in front of all the Nan'ao commanders!"

A few days later, Hong Taiji's messenger hurried to Zhenjiang City and requested an audience with Lin Qian.

Bai Qing received him and explained that Lin Qian had not yet arrived in Liaodong—if he had anything to say, she could convey it on his behalf.

Seeing that Bai Qing was surrounded by many Nan'ao commanders but not a single Dongjiang garrison commander, the messenger confidently presented the letters.

Bai Qing thought they were letters for Lin Qian—there were fully six of them—and felt slightly surprised, but had someone accept them.

However, the shipboard staff officer took one look and his expression changed. He glanced at the messenger, then handed the letters to Bai Qing.

"Commander, something's wrong."

Bai Qing picked up the envelope and looked—the seal had been torn open, and written on the envelope was clearly: "To the Great Jin Fourth Beile Hong Taiji, respectfully opened." Bai Qing knew that whoever was addressed as "respectfully opened" was the recipient. Without exception, all six letters were letters from others to Hong Taiji!

The messenger said: "General, feel free to take out the letters and read them."

Bai Qing gave a look to the shipboard medic. After the medic confirmed there was no powder on them, he carefully extracted the letters and handed them to Bai Qing.

One glance was all it took for Bai Qing to freeze—the letters were full of nothing but flattery toward Hong Taiji.

There was even an extremely blatant line: "... You take Shanhai Pass, I take Shandong. Attacking from both sides, and the great matter is settled!"

Looking at the signature, it read clearly: "Dongjiang Regional Commander Mao Wenlong, respectfully bowing."

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen