Chapter 300: Nurhaci's Death

Bai Qing's heart was full of doubt and alarm, but his face showed nothing. He had the staff officer put the letter away and said coolly, "Kill this Tartar dog."

Immediately someone advised, "Commander, in war between two armies, one does not slay the messenger..."

Bai Qing said coldly, "He came to sow discord with a scheme of betrayal. Is that a messenger?"

Most of the officers had not read the letter and could not understand what Bai Qing meant by a scheme of betrayal.

The Jurchen envoy was himself one of Hong Taiji's death-sworn men. Led away, he did not struggle but went to his death with composure.

Bai Qing pretended to be at ease and said, "Nothing more. Everyone, withdraw. Bailangzai, how goes the building of the skull mound?"

"It will be finished today, and there is also..."

After the officers had withdrawn, Bai Qing immediately told Bailangzai to hold his tongue, then said, "Go at once to Zhongjiang Island and tell Mao Wenlong to come see me." "Yes."

An hour later, Mao Wenlong was brought to the outskirts of Zhenjiang city.

Though Zhenjiang city was nothing but broken walls and ruined rubble, the days of building the skull mound had seen many tents pitched along the shore.

Mao Wenlong entered the tent and saw Bai Qing seated at the table, who gestured for him to sit.

Bailangzai followed in behind him, clutching his great miao saber as he stood guard at the tent entrance.

"Does the Commander have orders for me?" Mao Wenlong sensed the tense atmosphere and grew uneasy.

Without a word, Bai Qing took six letters from a box and laid them one by one on the table.

Mao Wenlong found it baffling, but when he saw the handwriting on the envelopes, his soul nearly flew from his body. He hurriedly tried to explain: "Commander, these are... these are all my stratagems to lure the enemy! That little barbarian chieftain is truly vicious! I..."

"Shh!" Bai Qing made a silencing gesture, then picked up a letter and held it to the candle flame.

The letter was quickly devoured by the fire, turning to blackened ash. Bai Qing pinched the letter between his fingers, flipping it several times to make sure it had burned completely, then dropped it to the ground and took the next one to burn as well.

This move stunned not only Mao Wenlong but even Bailangzai.

Only when all six letters had burned completely to flying ash did Mao Wenlong snap back to his senses and continue stammering his defense: "Commander, I meant to use the letters to lure the Jianzhou envoys here to kill them. These letters... these letters..."

Bai Qing: "What letters?"

Mao Wenlong was taken aback, then suddenly understood. He hurriedly rose and knelt, saying, "The Commander's great kindness, I will never forget as long as I live. From this day forth, I am willing to be driven by the Commander, to serve before horse and behind saddle, and will never refuse!"

Bai Qing helped Mao Wenlong up and said, "The Nan'ao army's regulations are to contend for the public good and fight for the people. The army does not practice personal fealty. Even if the Regional Commander wishes to join the Nan'ao forces, he would never be my private soldier."

Mao Wenlong reacted quickly and immediately followed up: "The Commander speaks truly. Ever since Li Chengliang first created the system of household troops, generals treated soldiers as their private property and soldiers treated generals as their private lords — that is the root of Liaodong's ruin!

That I, Mao, adopted so many sons and grandsons was also a helpless move under this very prevailing atmosphere.

Now that my forces have surrendered to Nan'ao and all things are renewed, I, Mao, will return at once and have all those adopted sons revert to their original surnames. From this day on, there will be no private soldiers of Mao on Pidao!"

Bai Qing said, "Whether you can be incorporated into the Nan'ao establishment will depend on the Helmsman's orders. Liaodong is too far from Nan'ao. I hope the Regional Commander will be patient." "Of course, naturally!" Mao Wenlong agreed readily. Only when he left the camp and was returning to Zhongjiang Island did he realize his back was completely soaked through. Meanwhile, in the Zhenjiang camp, after seeing Mao Wenlong board his ship, Bailangzai complained, "Sis, why did you burn the letters? The Helmsman hasn't even seen them yet." Bai Qing smiled and took a stack of letter paper from a box at her side: "I only burned the envelopes, you idiot!"

Bailangzai suddenly understood. He picked up a fragment that had not burned clean from the ground, looked at it, and said, "No wait, there are still words on this!" "If you're putting on a show, do it properly. That was a copy I had the staff officer make on the spot."

Zhongjiang Island was nearly forty li from Zhenjiang. The time spent going back and forth by boat was more than enough to copy all six letters once.

Bai Qing had precisely placed the copied versions into the envelopes, swapped out the originals, and sent them to Lin Qian.

This way, no matter what decision the Helmsman made, at least during the time it took to transmit orders, Mao Wenlong could be kept steady.

Afterwards, Bai Qing had the six letters, an account of the affair, and the latest battle reports compiled and sent to Nan'ao.

The next day, the Nan'ao fleet withdrew from the Yalu River. The wounded on Zhongjiang Island had already departed ahead of time, retreating to Pidao, while several dozen transport ships worked day and night to carry away the Han civilians who had fled to the banks of the Yalu.

After the fleet departed, both banks of the Yalu returned to calm, leaving only the ruins of Zhenjiang city and the newly built skull mound by the river.

The skull mound stood about one and a half zhang tall, with over four hundred heads piled in sixteen layers. At the very top sat Leng'eli's head, split in two.

Beside the skull mound stood a stele of green stone, inscribed: "On the twenty-fifth day of the fourth month of the first year of Chongzhen, the Nan'ao naval forces utterly defeated the Jianzhou barbarians at Zhenjiang city and Zhongjiang Island, beheading four hundred and thirty-six, and built this skull mound here."

As the sun set in the west, a chill emanated from around the skull mound. Crows covered the surrounding trees, letting out bleak cawing cries.

When Dorgon and his brothers arrived at the riverbank with two hundred banner light cavalry, this was the sight that greeted them.

Dodo saw the skull mound and flew into a rage, drawing his saber and hacking at the earthen pile. A large chunk of the packed earth broke off, releasing a faint stench of decay. "Level it! Bury the Jurchen warriors properly!" Dodo roared at his men.

Dorgon walked to the stele, his face iron-gray, his expression complicated, lost in thought.

Suddenly he noticed a letter on the stele, held down by a stone.

Dorgon took the letter down and saw written on the envelope: "Respectfully to Nurhaci, Great Khan of the Jin State," with the sender listed as "Lin Qian of the Nan'ao Army."

Dodo gritted his teeth and said, "Brother, open it and take a look!"

Dorgon shook his head: "This is a letter for Father Khan. We cannot open it. Let's go."

Zhenjiang had become ruins, and Zhongjiang Island had been razed flat. These two places no longer held any value for occupation. Besides, the Nan'ao army had withdrawn — it was time for them to return to Shenyang and report.

To avoid keeping Hong Taiji waiting anxiously, Dorgon ordered men on fast horses to deliver news of the Zhenjiang situation and that letter to Shenyang.

Several days later, the fast riders arrived.

Hong Taiji was shocked by the grim news, his chest tightening with rage, but this was the critical moment for succession to the Khanate, and he could not afford to dwell on it.

"Where is the letter?" he said, clutching his chest.

The messenger handed over the letter.

Hong Taiji ordered him to withdraw and made as if to call for the physician to open the letter. He had barely called out half a syllable before he stopped himself.

Lately Nurhaci's illness had grown worse, yet he always clung to a single breath and held on stubbornly. These past few days there had even been signs of improvement. The Great Consort Abahai kept vigil by Nurhaci's side day and night, leaving Hong Taiji neither able nor having any reason to make a move against her.

Now that Dorgon had turned back from Zhenjiang, he would likely soon receive word of Nurhaci's grave illness.

Though Dorgon was only eighteen, he had already served in the army and gained experience for many years, earning the title "Mergan Daiqing" among the troops, meaning "the wise commander." If he and Dodo rode fast back to Shenyang, it would add countless variables to the succession of the Khanate.

As things stood, perhaps the Old Khan needed to die quickly...

Hong Taiji looked at the letter in his hand, and a terrible thought rose in his mind.

He took a deep breath, had his men call back Dorgon's messenger, and said, "I see from the envelope that this letter is addressed to the Great Khan, not to me. Take it to the Inner Hongwen Academy for delivery."

After taking power, Hong Taiji had imitated the Ming's Grand Secretariat, Hanlin Academy, and Household Administration, establishing a system of "Three Inner Academies."

Among them, the Inner Hongwen Academy was responsible for foreign correspondence.

The messenger suspected nothing and went to carry out the order. The Inner Hongwen Academy, not daring to delay a letter addressed to Nurhaci, delivered it to Nurhaci's residence that very night. Nurhaci was eating frog soup served by the Great Consort Abahai.

The soup was made by cleaning forest frogs of impurities and slowly simmering them in millet porridge for a full hour.

After cooking, the forest frog oil turned into a gelatinous milky white substance, suspended in the soup like fine pieces of solidified fat, garnished with some dandelion greens and acanthopanax leaves. One sip and the flavor was warm, mellow and rich—fat fragrance, grain fragrance, and herbal fragrance all blended together, fresh, moist, thick and sticky, slightly sweet without being greasy.

Nurhaci had always loved this dish in his daily life, and since it was warming and appetizing by nature, he often ate it even during his illness.

After several days of recuperation, Nurhaci's complexion had improved considerably. Not only could he get out of bed to eat on his own, but after finishing one bowl, he even asked Abahai to serve him another.

Abahai smiled and filled another bowl, saying: "Great Khan, your health has improved these past two days. Why not go to the Qinghe hot springs to soak and recuperate?"

Nurhaci said: "Forget it. Let Daishan slaughter an ox and burn paper offerings to pray to the spirits for me. Has Dorgon returned yet?"

Abahai's heart stirred, but her face betrayed nothing as she said: "Not yet. I've already sent people to the Zhenjiang front lines to summon him."

"Mm." Nurhaci fell into pensive silence.

Hong Taiji had learned those Han Chinese ways, and Nurhaci could not stand it.

Moreover, the Jurchen had always had the custom of "the youngest son guards the inheritance"—in simple terms, it was the exact opposite of the Central Plains' eldest-son succession system; it was the youngest legitimate son who inherited. Several days earlier, when Hong Taiji had produced the Nan'ao Times in front of him, Nurhaci had genuinely entertained the thought of replacing Hong Taiji.

He had even sent Abahai's people to summon Dorgon.

But these days of lingering on his sickbed had cooled much of his anger and brought him clarity.

Hong Taiji had been governing for a long time and his power was already established. If he were suddenly replaced by Dorgon, it would likely throw the tribes into great chaos.

Perhaps letting Hong Taiji take the throne, with the various banner lords checking his governance, was the better approach.

Currently Dorgon and Ajige jointly commanded the Plain White Banner, while Dodo commanded the Bordered White Banner. Perhaps the best policy was to let Ajige take sole charge of the Plain Yellow Banner and Dorgon take sole charge of the Plain White Banner.

Just as he was pondering this, an attendant presented a letter: "Great Khan, this just arrived from the Inner Literary Academy."

Abahai could not read Chinese characters, but the moment she looked at it, her heart inexplicably lurched. She snapped: "The Great Khan is still recuperating! Can't those Beiles handle government affairs? Take it back!"

Without Nurhaci's say-so, the attendant dared not move.

Nurhaci pushed the toad stew aside and said in a deep voice: "Bring it up."

There was no poison in the letter—the Inner Literary Academy had already checked it. Nurhaci took the letter and saw the courteous wording on the envelope. He gave a cold snort: "That rat Lin Qian actually knows his manners."

After tearing it open, he saw it written: "The Eight Banners' iron cavalry has dominated the world for a long time, yet first it was checked at Zhenjiang, then again at Fuzhou, and recently it has stumbled repeatedly at Zhenjiang, Zhongjiang Island, Fenghuang City and other places—is this not the will of Heaven?

This time our army's commander is a woman in a heroine's garb. I expect your army will judge her by her sex and not dispatch heavy forces.

Thus, though our army has taken three cities in succession, our kills have not reached five hundred, and the grain we burned was no more than ten thousand dan. Such meager military merit is hardly satisfying.

I only wish the old general to treasure his tiger's frame, regroup and re-raise his banners. Another day our army shall go forth on a hunting campaign and meet the general again among the white mountains and black waters."

"Heh heh, that whelp Lin Qian—barely winning a small victory and already wagging his tail and yelping like a worthless hunting dog." Nurhaci finished reading the letter with a cold laugh and set it aside.

Seeing that the Great Khan did not take it to heart, Abahai breathed a sigh of relief.

But who would have expected that after the lamps were extinguished, Nurhaci lay in bed growing angrier the more he thought about it. He felt that he had fought all his life without a single defeat, and now he had suffered great losses at Lin Qian's hands three times over—and with the back sore afflicting him, his days were numbered. Heaven had not granted him more years, and he had no chance for revenge. Truly a pity, truly a lament!

With his heart so pent up, that very night his back sore flared up. The pain was heart-rending, making him cry out in agony, his body arching backward like a shrimp.

The abscess had turned red and purple, already swollen to its limit. Under his thrashing, the skin split open and pus gushed out, staining a large swath of the bed crimson, reeking foul beyond measure. The mansion's physician was at his wit's end and could only kneel on the ground kowtowing.

Abahai wept bitterly at the side.

The royal Beiles in Shenyang city all knelt in the main hall of the residence.

Nurhaci's cries of pain could be heard for an hour or two, then gradually grew faint. He no longer had the strength to call out, and the pus and blood from his back had drained dry, so the pain subsided.

But his consciousness gradually grew hazy, and he returned to the thatched cottage of Hetu Ala. His father taught him to ride horses and hunt, his grandfather taught him to read—how carefree life had been then.

In the blink of an eye, he was in Li Chengliang's marshal's mansion, and Li Chengliang, holding a horsewhip, was smiling at him.

"Nurhaci, would you be willing to follow me?"

"I am willing!" The teenage Nurhaci knelt on the ground and kowtowed respectfully.

Seeing that the old Khan had made a sound, Abahai quickly wiped away her tears and leaned in to ask: "What? Great Khan, what did you say?"

Nurhaci could no longer hear. He was wearing a Ming army cloth-armor jacket, following Li Chengliang on campaigns east and west. Everywhere they went—whether Mongols, Jurchen, or other tribes—all threw down their armor and bared their necks for the blade.

Nurhaci earned illustrious military merit, and Li Chengliang, covered in blood, stroked his head and said to others: "This boy will surely become someone great!" The scene shifted, Li Chengliang's figure faded away, and from afar came the savage laughter and firelight of Ming troops massacring a city—it was the great fire of Gure.

That year he was twenty-five. In the flames he wailed with all his might, searching for the figures of his father and grandfather.

In the end, inside a thatched cottage, he saw his grandfather, already burned to a charred husk.

His father, wearing a Ming army uniform, lay fallen not far away, his corpse crisscrossed with knife wounds—hacked to death by Ming soldiers' blades.

Nurhaci collapsed to his knees in the great fire, letting out hysterical wails.

In the flames, the ashes drifting through the sky gradually transformed into the snow of Sarhu.

Now it was the Ming army that screamed and wailed. Holding the Seven Grievances, he watched the four Ming armies like four clumsy fat meatworms, squirming their bloated bodies into the pocket he had laid for them.

Nearly a hundred thousand Ming corpses lay scattered across the battlefield, stretching all the way to the horizon. Over a hundred li of the Hun River was dyed blood red.

That was the proudest time of his life.

Gazing at the mountain of corpses and sea of blood before him, Nurhaci could not help but squeeze a chilling laugh from his throat.

Abahai was still calling: "Great Khan, Great Khan, what are you saying?"

In the main hall, Hong Taiji, Daishan, and Manggūltai exchanged glances, then rose and burst into Nurhaci's bedchamber.

Abahai said angrily: "What are you doing coming in here? Get out!"

Hong Taiji said: "If Father Khan has a final decree, with us three brothers present, we can serve as witnesses."

Abahai thought this made sense, so she did not block them further. She returned to the bedside and continued calling to the Great Khan.

The three of them, Hong Taiji and the others, also knelt before the bed, afraid of missing a single word.

Before Nurhaci's eyes, the firelight grew ever greater—it was the great fire of the Yehe tribe. The Yehe Beile stood atop the city wall, his body soaked through with oil, and burned himself to death.

Before dying, he uttered a vicious curse: "………Even if only one woman of my Yehe tribe remains, she will destroy your Jianzhou Jurchen!"

Nurhaci watched that ball of flame fall from the tower and said disdainfully: "Fool. From this day forward, Liaodong will no longer be divided into Jianzhou and Yehe. In this world, there is only one Jurchen!"

"What? What did Father Khan say?" Manggūltai said anxiously.

Daishan almost pressed his face against Nurhaci's, frowning: "Father Khan said, only one Jurchen?"

Seeing Nurhaci's breath growing ever weaker, Abahai threw caution to the wind. She pushed Daishan aside, leaned close to Nurhaci, and asked repeatedly: "Great Khan, what about the Khan's throne?"

Hong Taiji kowtowed once and declared in a clear voice: "Father Khan's instruction, we brothers will keep firmly in our hearts! From now on, there will be no more dividing Jianzhou and Yehe—in this world, there is only one Jurchen!"

Abahai cursed: "Shut up!"

The other two brothers came to their senses and repeated it aloud.

The commotion before the bed fell on Nurhaci's ears as the rumbling of cannon fire.

He saw the Battle of Liaoshen, where Military Commissioner of Liaodong Yuan Yingtai burned himself atop the city wall, turning into a fireball, and the gates of Shenyang were opened by his Mongol insider. He saw in the bloody battle at Hun River, the tight formations of the white-spear troops torn to shreds by cannon fire.

He saw in southern Liaodong, countless Han Chinese and lands falling into Jurchen hands—the people either scattering in flight or shaving their heads in submission. Nurhaci's face was wreathed in smiles. He had done it. From now on, the Jurchen would never again be bullied by the Han, never again slaughter one another. The prosperous lands of the Central Plains would sooner or later become pasture for the Jurchen!

As he surveyed the splendid rivers and mountains, a fleet slowly sailed in from the sea. Its warships were as large as palaces, its sails blotting out the sky and sun, like clouds descending upon the ocean.

"No, don't..." Nurhaci's face suddenly twisted in pain. He shook his head violently, and his limbs began to convulse.

"Great Khan, Great Khan!" Hong Taiji and the other two wailed loudly.

That fleet drew near the shore and, without a word, began bombarding. Zhenjiang City was reduced to rubble, and Amin was crushed to death by falling bricks and stones.

Beside Changsheng Island, the corpses of Jurchen warriors covered the entire surface of the sea.

Within Phoenix City, over thirty thousand shi of grain turned into towering flames.

Still more fleets were continuously approaching from the sea. Great numbers of Han Chinese bearing firearms disembarked from the ships, holding their weapons and forming formations Nurhaci had never seen before.

Amid the thunder of guns and cannons, the iron cavalry of the Eight Banners fell in swaths like wheat being scythed. Archery and horsemanship became a joke before the dense gunfire that seemed to plow the earth.

The territory of the Great Jin shrank without cease. They abandoned the coasts and riverbanks, abandoned Liaoning and Shenyang.

They retreated back to Hetu Ala, back to that first thatched hut—nowhere left to retreat.

He saw his charred grandfather and his father chopped into mincemeat...

"No, no, no... impossible!" Nurhaci's eyes suddenly flew wide open, and he roared with all the strength in his body.

Abahai and the three kneeling Great Beiles were all startled.

A moment later, Hong Taiji crawled forward, placing a hand on his father's pulse while the other tested his breath. In a hoarse voice, he said: "Father Khan... has passed..."

"Great Khan!" Abahai let out a piercing shriek and collapsed to her knees, wailing.

Only now did Daishan and Manggūltai shed genuine tears.

Hong Taiji turned his father's body over, staining himself with pus and blood. Looking at his father's face, dead with eyes wide open, he vowed silently: "Father Khan, rest assured. I will surely enter the Central Plains and ensure that we Jurchen are never bullied again!"

The funeral attendants had long been prepared at the residence. Now they slowly entered the bedchamber, escorted Abahai and the others out, and began making arrangements for the old Khan's funeral rites. Hong Taiji and the other two stared at Abahai, their gazes growing increasingly hostile.

Manggūltai was the first to lose patience and spoke: "Before Father Khan passed, he gave an oral decree that the Great Consort should be buried with him. Great Consort, go prepare for your journey." A flicker of surprise crossed Abahai's face, followed by a bitter smile: "So impatient, are we?"

Daishan said: "Dorgon will be back soon."

Abahai had both wanted to contend for the Khanate on behalf of her sons and anticipated this outcome. She drew a deep breath and strove to remain calm: "Dorgon and Dodo are still young. After I die, please treat them well."

Hong Taiji said solemnly: "The Great Consort's three sons are all Jurchen warriors. I will treat them as my own brothers born of the same mother!" Abahai's expression turned sorrowful. She turned to leave, saying faintly: "Let me stay with the Great Khan a while longer."

Manggūltai stepped forward, about to speak again, but was stopped by Hong Taiji.

Abahai's voice drifted back: "Before dawn, collect my body."

Three days later, with Hong Taiji's position as Khan secure, the Great Jin finally announced Nurhaci's death. As for the Great Consort's burial with the dead, internally it was claimed to be the Great Khan's dying command, while externally it was kept completely secret.

By the time the two Dorgon brothers galloped back to Shenyang City, even their mother's corpse had already been placed in the coffin.

Dodo sobbed until he could barely breathe, cursing Ajige for his inaction.

Ajige had his own difficulties. He was merely a warrior, arrogant by nature, and the Bordered White Banner he commanded had been infiltrated with Hong Taiji's men—he simply could not mobilize it.

Even the news of Nurhaci's and Abahai's deaths had been kept from him.

Upon hearing this, Dodo grabbed a blade and went to seek revenge on Hong Taiji, but was stopped by Dorgon.

After the two of them had left, men had been planted in the Two White Banners, making them impossible to mobilize. Now they had not a single soldier at their command. Moreover, Hong Taiji's position as Khan was secure—revenge was simply impossible.

He could only urge his brothers to endure...

Five days after Nurhaci's death.

Only then did news from Liaodong reach Sun Chengzong's ears in succession: the Joseon navy had been ambushed, Dongjiang Town had defected to Lin Qian, the second attack on Zhenjiang, the burning of Phoenix City, the pacification of Zhongjiang Island, the death of the old chieftain, and the succession of the young chieftain.

These tidings were a mix of good and ill, all of them astonishing beyond belief, and each with far-reaching implications for the situation in Liaodong.

On ordinary days, even a single piece of such news would require careful analysis and response. Now, learning so many joys and calamities at once nearly took Sun Chengzong's breath away. When he finally recovered, he was too overcome with emotion to know what to say.

Since he had assumed the post of Supreme Commander of Ji-Liao, the court had pinched and scraped every grain of provisions and every coin of pay. Not to mention Dongjiang Town's insufficient funds—even the Guanning Army's provisions were stretched thin. Sun Chengzong had submitted several memorials requesting the court to transport grain and pay, all of which vanished without a trace.

Now that Mao Wenlong had defected to the enemy, Sun Chengzong bore a major fault—but Mao Wenlong had defected to Lin Qian rather than to the Jianzhou barbarians, which was the best outcome under the circumstances. Add to that the victory at Zhenjiang and Nurhaci's death, and the pressure on the Liaoxi front line suddenly lightened. Perhaps he could seize the opportunity to recover lost territory and build several more fortified cities. After calming himself, Sun Chengzong took up his brush and submitted a memorial, proposing that they might cooperate with the Nan'ao fleet to first jointly eliminate the Jianzhou barbarians and recover Liaodong. Three days later, when Chongzhen read Sun Chengzong's memorial, his expression shifted through a riot of colors.

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen