Chapter 303: Iron Ganzhou and Poyang Lake

On the fifteenth day of the sixth month, Bai Qing led the fleet back from the Liaodong front. Settling the people of Pidao and pacifying the Joseon court had cost her considerable effort.

Fortunately, the results were good—the Dongjiang army accepted reorganization; the people of Pidao were gradually relocated to Jiao Island, Jeju Island, and other places, and were being shipped in batches to Dongning; the Joseon court tacitly acknowledged the frontier trade market at Jiao Island.

Seeing the beacon tower finally in sight, Bai Qing let out a sigh of relief.

Per Lin Qian's orders, the three ships—Zhulong, Yunming, and Xingming—were to enter dry dock for refitting upon their return from Liaodong.

But Bai Qing discovered that every single dry dock was occupied, not one left vacant, and she could not help but find it extremely strange.

By all logic, the Zhulong was the main flagship—other ships should make way for the Zhulong, not the Zhulong waiting for a dry dock.

Seeing the fleet arrive, the shipyard sent out an eagle boat, which pulled alongside the Zhulong's flank. Xiao Jiu climbed up the rope ladder and came before Bai Qing to pay his respects.

Bai Qing asked directly: "What's going on? Why are all the dry docks occupied?"

Xiao Jiu said: "This was the Helmsman's instruction. The Helmsman said the situation has changed, and the original plan to refit the Zhulong and the other two ships has been postponed. The order is for the three ships to repair their damage, replenish ammunition and supplies, anchor at Shen'ao, and prepare for battle."

Bai Qing said in surprise: "That urgent?"

Xiao Jiu said: "That I wouldn't know. The Helmsman also said that once the two Commander Bais returned to port, they should go immediately for an audience."

Bai Qing nodded and said: "I happen to have matters to report as well. Where is the Helmsman now? At the Administrative Hall or the General Staff Headquarters?"

"The Helmsman is in Guangzhou now. I'm afraid the two Commanders will have to take a fast boat."

"There's no time to lose—let's set out at once!"

With that, Bai Qing handed command of the fleet to the Zhulong's helmsman—all that remained was to have the fleet anchor at Shen'ao, which did not require her personal command. Then Bai Qing had her personal guards fetch some things, boarded the eagle boat with Xiao Jiu, and went to pick up Bailangzai.

Full of curiosity, Bai Qing took the opportunity to ask: "Has the Helmsman already moved the capital to Guangzhou?"

"Not yet." Xiao Jiu paused, then said, "But I suspect it has to do with the fighting in Jiangxi. I heard the front is in an emergency—the Helmsman went to Guangzhou to direct operations, and the General Staff moved there as well."

"There's fighting in Jiangxi?" Bai Qing was somewhat surprised.

Liaodong and Nan'ao Island were nearly four thousand li apart, making communication extremely inconvenient, and she had been sailing at sea for nearly half a month, so it was even less possible for her to receive any message. She knew nothing of what had happened in Jiangxi.

Xiao Jiu then recounted the full story of the servant uprisings in Jiangxi.

According to Lin Qian's original plan, Jiangxi was to be handled gradually. But those bastard great clans were truly despicable—they treated people as expendable supplies and pushed them to the brink of death. Jiangxi had deep roots in the School of Principle, which emphasized hierarchy and ethics above all, imposing severe constraints on the common people. The contradictions between servants and masters, between tenant serfs and landlords, had always been sharp. Add in the deflation, and the great clans only intensified their exploitation and oppression—like oil meeting fire, it ignited at the slightest spark.

During the time Bai Qing had been sailing, more than a dozen uprisings of varying sizes had already erupted in Jiangxi, and the great households that had been slaughtered to the last member were too many to count on one hand.

These tenant serfs and hereditary servants had been oppressed for so long that when they finally turned the tables, their vengeance was extremely brutal. Not a single living person was left in any manor breached by the rebel armies. The great clans, terrified out of their wits, joined with the local officials in violently suppressing the uprisings, and their retaliation against the rebels was equally merciless—they too left no survivors, and even subjected captured prisoners to widespread torture and slaughter.

The hatred between the two sides escalated further and further, the fighting fierce and utterly savage, forcing Nan'ao to send troops ahead of schedule.

Given his position, Xiao Jiu ordinarily would not have known about these matters, but for one thing, Lin Qian always liked to explain his reasoning to his subordinates to ensure better execution of his decisions.

For another, the fighting in Jiangxi was so brutal it could not be hidden—the stench of blood had long since drifted into Fujian through the smugglers' trails over the Wuyi Mountains. After hearing this, Bai Qing was secretly shocked, thinking to herself: "So these past few months, not only has Liaodong been in turmoil, but the southeast has seen major upheaval as well. Truly... well, truly remarkable..."

Bai Qing came from the Tanka boat people and had been oppressed by the court her whole life, so she naturally loathed the great clans. She said: "Killing off all those parasites doesn't sound bad to me." Xiao Jiu said: "That's not quite how to put it. The great clans are thieving bastards, sure, but those rebelling tenant serfs aren't all good people either.

After the Leveler King of Le'an killed his master, he seized the land and made himself king, dragging all the common people of the prefecture and counties into service as tenant farmers—with even higher rents than before and even more corvée labor. And the Leveler King of Luling, after taking the county seat, went around conscripting able-bodied men to expand his army, levied taxes even harsher than the Liaodong levy and the bandit-suppression levy, and kept fighting endless battles with the other Leveler Kings of the surrounding counties."

Bai Qing said in astonishment: "How could that happen? And why does everyone call themselves Leveler King—surely someone made that up?"

"Why couldn't it happen? When the poor suddenly get rich, most of them turn out exactly like this. These people never had any education—their whole lives they only ever saw two kinds of people: masters and servants. Now that they hold power themselves, naturally they want to taste what it's like to be the master. People like the Helmsman are the rare exception." In the late Ming, popular revolts and uprisings were extremely numerous, especially in the southeast, where they seemed to bloom everywhere, one after another.

It wasn't just peasants who rose up—the porcelain workers of Jingdezhen and the weavers of Suzhou had also rebelled, and miners and refugees frequently rioted as well.

Not to mention the countless secret societies and religions, such as the White Lotus sect, the Mimi sect, and so on.

On average, small uprisings in the Ming southeast occurred once or twice almost every month. As a Tanka boat person, Bai Qing naturally knew nothing of this. But Xiao Jiu had grown up in Zhangzhou city, where news traveled fast, and he knew all too well.

Nearly seven out of ten rebel leaders, once they gained power, would immediately bare their fangs and turn their blades on the common people.

Of the remaining three, two out of ten were wiped out by the court before they could even lower the executioner's blade. Those who truly never abandoned their original convictions probably numbered less than one in ten. The people of the southeast truly hated the court, that was certain—but in the eyes of the common folk, the rebel armies were even worse than the imperial troops.

As for the Leveler King title, Xiao Jiu wasn't sure about its origin—he only knew that everyone who rebelled in the Jiangxi region liked to use it, because it sounded impressive.

It was like a shop sign—duck sellers all claimed to be selling Jinling salted duck, and fish soup vendors all claimed to be selling Sister Song's fish soup. As they talked, the eagle boat picked up Bailangzai, then returned Xiao Jiu to shore and set course for Guangzhou.

The route from Nan'ao Island to Guangzhou was one the eagle boat's crew had traveled many times and knew by heart—they arrived beneath the walls of Guangzhou by noon the next day. The Nan'ao administrative offices were currently under construction, so Lin Qian was temporarily working out of the Provincial Administration Commissioner's yamen.

The Bai siblings walked along, seeing the city bustling with endless traffic and great prosperity, seemingly completely unaffected by the chaos of the Jiangxi war.

Only when they reached the northern part of the city, near the Provincial Administration Commissioner's yamen, did they find it heavily guarded by personal guards, with messenger riders galloping past constantly—the urgency of war was palpable. The Bai siblings stepped into the main hall and saw the staff officers gathered around a sand table discussing the battle situation, every face wearing an expression of extraordinary gravity.

At the center of the sand table stood a mighty city, its shape pointed at the north and broad at the south, like a drop of water. To the city's northwest and northeast, two great rivers flowed, converging due north of the city and continuing northward.

This great city sat between the two rivers, and the southern section of its walls drew river water to form a wide moat, making it easy to defend and hard to attack.

What drew the most attention was the city's main southern gate, which actually had double barbicans—it looked supremely formidable.

A staff officer pointed at the sand table with a pointer and said: "... The Zhang River and the Gong River converge north of the city to form the Gan River, and Ganzhou city is built along it. The east, west, and north sides are all extremely difficult to attack, while to the south, mountains such as Kongtong Mountain and Baiyun Mountain block the way, making it hard to deploy troops.

The city has a circumference of thirteen li, walls over three zhang high, with a top width of one zhang and seven chi, the whole structure poured with glutinous rice mortar—extraordinarily sturdy.

Outside, water is drawn from the two rivers to form a moat roughly seven zhang wide, of unknown depth.

The city is well stocked with grain, fully equipped with weapons, and manned by elite troops and fierce generals—truly difficult to take..."

Lin Qian stood before the sand table, brows knit tightly, and asked: "How many cannons did Lei Sanxiang bring?"

A nearby army staff officer answered without hesitation: "Twenty 24-pounder siege cannons, forty 12-pounder Siren cannons, sixty each of 6-pounder and 3-pounder field guns, and fifteen mortars."

After a moment of silence, a staff officer said: "Helmsman, the front lines have already tried. According to the artillerymen, when shells hit the city wall, they only turn the brick and stone white—they can't even shatter the outer layer of blue brick."

Lin Qian knew this was the power of glutinous rice mortar. This building material of the Old Ancestors might have a thousand flaws, but it was extremely hard and extremely tough.

But no matter how strong a brick-and-stone structure was, even if it could withstand a hundred shells, it couldn't withstand a thousand. Mass enough siege cannons and pound one spot day and night without pause, and eventually it would crack.

The problem was that within Ganzhou's city wall there was also a core layer of rammed earth—a material that was both soft and resilient, serving the same function as the sloping glacis of a bastion. Cannons could break through brick and stone, but they couldn't blast through this core layer. And for the soldiers, charging up a slope wasn't much different from assaulting the wall directly with ladders. By this point Bai Qing had understood what everyone was discussing, and she parroted what she'd just learned: "Why not try the tactic of cutting into the wall and planting charges?"

Before the attack on Phoenix City, Mao Wenlong had explained this technique to Bai Qing in full.

Besides directly blowing up the city gate, one could also dig holes in the wall and stuff explosives inside, or tunnel beneath the wall and detonate there—there were many variations. Lin Qian looked up, saw the Bai siblings standing at the door, and said: "Come join the discussion."

The two Bais entered as instructed.

"The cut-and-blast method probably won't work at Ganzhou. Yuan the Barbarian has deployed a large number of cannons on the southern wall, and he keeps shifting their positions, making it impossible for us to track their numbers and locations. If we force a charge to the foot of the wall, casualties would likely be very heavy.

Moreover, Ganzhou has more than thirty watchtowers, and there are no blind spots at the base of the walls—we can't remove bricks or dig into the wall."

The speaker was Zheng Zhilong. He then pointed at the moat.

"As for tunneling, the moat blocks the way. To prevent water seepage, we'd have to dig extremely deep, which would take a very long time. And Ganzhou's walls are so sturdy that blowing a breach in them would probably require at least several thousand jin of gunpowder."

Bai Qing was startled: "Several thousand jin? When we blew up the city gate of Fenghuang in Liaodong, it only took a bit over fifty jin of powder."

A staff officer shook his head: "Fenghuang is merely a border garrison of the Great Ming. But Ganzhou has been called 'Iron Ganzhou' since ancient times, and is also known as 'the foremost fortress of the southeast.' These two cities can't be compared."

Ma Chenglie said: "Ganzhou is blocked by water on three sides and guards a mountain pass to the south—easy to defend, hard to attack. Since its construction in the Jiayou era of the Northern Song, it has never been taken by frontal assault. Ma Chenglie currently serves as commander of the Liangguang Garrison Army. For this campaign against Ganzhou from Nan'ao, besides the thirty thousand new troops, he also brought twenty thousand garrison troops as support. Since Ma Chenglie himself was familiar with Ming army tactics and his post was in Guangzhou, Lin Qian had called him in to join the meeting.

Bailangzai stared at the sand table: "Never taken by frontal assault? Then how has this city ever changed hands?"

Ma Chenglie said slowly: "It has always been besieged without attack, waiting for the defenders to run out of food and arrows.

In the Southern Song, Wen Tianxiang advanced from Fujian and once brought his army before Ganzhou. After a long siege without success, he eventually withdrew.

At the end of the Yuan dynasty, Chang Yuchun led a hundred thousand troops to besiege Ganzhou. Chang Yuchun tried scaling ladders, battering rams, tunnels, and cannons one after another, yet still could not break it. The standoff lasted a full six months, and only when the defenders' food was exhausted did they open the gates and surrender."

"Oh." Bailangzai was suddenly filled with awe.

As fellow Ming men, everyone among the common folk knew the great name of Chang Yuchun—the foremost fierce general of the founding dynasty. Even he had been helpless before Ganzhou; clearly this was indeed a formidable city.

Lin Qian could actually have added more along the lines of Ma Chenglie's account.

At the end of the Ming, Yang Tinglin held the lone isolated city of Ganzhou. The Qing army massed fifty thousand men to besiege it, suffering nearly ten thousand casualties, yet still could not take it. In the end, only through encirclement—when the defenders' food ran out and a traitor opened the gates—did they enter the city.

In the late Qing, Shi Dakai of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom attacked Ganzhou three times, all ending in failure.

Even in modern times, General Peng led the Red Army against Ganzhou, using the old method of digging tunnels and blasting with gunpowder. They used over ten thousand jin of black powder and collapsed several sections of the wall, yet still could not take it.

And since Yuan Chonghuan had come to Jiangxi, he had placed the main force of his army at Ganzhou, transferred large numbers of red barbarian cannons to reinforce the city defenses, and taken advantage of the deflationary period to purchase vast quantities of grain and store it within the city.

At present, the general staff did not know how much grain Ganzhou held, but it was thought to be no less than half a year's supply, possibly even a full year's.

Most critically, the entire Gan River—including its upstream branches, the Zhang River and the Gong River—was entirely under Yuan Chonghuan's control. The river supremacy that the Nan'ao army had always relied upon was instead in Yuan Chonghuan's hands.

Ganzhou could receive a steady stream of supplies via river transport from Ji'an Prefecture and Nanchang Prefecture.

Although Lei Sanxiang had taken Nan'an Prefecture, Dingnan County, Longnan County, and other places, the entire water systems of Fujian and Guangdong had no connection whatsoever with the Gan River or the Yangtze system.

The overland routes between Fujian-Guangdong and Jiangxi were mostly narrow and rugged. Large warships could not possibly be transported overland into the Gan River system, and even if small warships were brought to the Gan River, they would be no match.

Last year, when Yuan Chonghuan was summoned to court and proposed to the Chongzhen Emperor that troops be massed in Jiangxi, it was precisely because he recognized that Jiangxi had no water route connecting it to Fujian and Guangdong, which could neutralize Nan'ao's naval advantage.

Lin Qian could not help but sigh—Yuan Chonghuan was merely so-so in politics and economics, but his military ability was truly astonishing.

Ganzhou was already an iron fortress; even if garrisoned by a mediocre general, the Nan'ao army would find it hard to break. Now it was paired with Yuan Chonghuan, the man of the late Ming most skilled at defending from strong positions and exploiting terrain.

To take it would truly be harder than climbing to heaven.

It seemed Yuan Chonghuan had poured all the frustration of failing to win a great victory at Ningyuan into Ganzhou.

Seeing that no good solution could be worked out, Lin Qian asked: "What are the casualties at the front?"

"Over five hundred dead and wounded."

"That many?" Bai Qing was inwardly startled.

One had to know that when Nan'ao took the entire province of Guangxi, the casualties had been only a little over three hundred and eighty.

That staff officer added: "On the main front at Ganzhou, following the helmsman's orders to besiege without attacking, most casualties came from the fighting over the surrounding beacon towers and fortifications." Yuan Chonghuan was an extremely troublesome opponent. Besides Ganzhou city itself, he had built numerous fortifications around it, all at strategic passes and natural strongholds—such as Baiyun Mountain, Tianzhu Mountain, and Kongtong Mountain—each of which had to be rooted out one by one.

Moreover, Yuan Chonghuan would periodically send small detachments out of the city to raid the camps, like flies, harassing the new troops beyond endurance. That casualties had reached only five hundred by now meant Lei Sanxiang could already be called a masterful commander.

Bailangzai suddenly had a flash of inspiration and asked: "That Vauban siege method we used when we took Luzon—would it work here?"

Zheng Zhilong took the pointer and tapped the moat: "Brother Bai, don't forget this."

Bailangzai was instantly deflated.

The purpose of the Vauban siege method was to deliver soldiers safely to the foot of the walls for demolition. But Ganzhou's moat was seven zhang wide and connected to the Zhang and Gong Rivers—draining it was impossible; the only option was filling it with earth.

And filling a seven-zhang-wide moat under the defenders' eyes was nearly impossible.

If one could not approach the base of the walls, one could not fire cannons from the trenches, nor destroy the walls.

This was exactly the saying "As the demon rises one zhang, the Way rises ten." The Western barbarians' siege methods were formidable, but the Chinese ancestors' defensive techniques were nothing to sneeze at either. Then Bai Qing and her brother thought up many more ideas for taking the city—such as stirring up the populace inside to make the defenders open the gates, bypassing Ganzhou to attack elsewhere first, or bypassing Jiangxi to attack Zhejiang—but all were rejected one by one.

The two of them were naval commanders with little deep knowledge of land warfare, which was why they had so many fanciful ideas.

In truth, all the twists and turns of siege and defense had long been figured out by the Song dynasty people. When they built their cities, they sealed off every avenue of attack. Otherwise, history could not possibly have seen so many brilliant figures run aground and sink before Ganzhou.

The group discussed continuously for nearly an hour, yet could not find a way to crack it, only exhausting themselves until their mouths were parched.

The final conclusion was that the new troops would set up artillery positions on the west bank of the Gan River to watch the waterway; meanwhile, below the city, they would continue using the Vauban method to dig trenches, and once they neared the moat, throw bundles of firewood to try to build a floating bridge.

This plan actually had many weaknesses, and none of them held much hope for it. But they could hardly have the entire army idle before Ganzhou, consuming men and horses' rations to no purpose—they had to do something.

Just as the staff officers sat drinking tea in silence, Lin Qian spoke up: "Actually, I have an idea. It's somewhat risky, but if it works, it won't just make Ganzhou easier—all of Jiangxi and Zhejiang will become much easier to take."

Everyone's spirits lifted, and they held their breath in anticipation.

Lin Qian picked up the pointer, walked around the sand table to the screen at the front of the hall, where a map hung depicting the mountains and river networks of the entire south. Lin Qian tapped the map twice with the pointer: "Attack here—Poyang Lake!"

"What?"

All the staff officers, including Ma Chenglie, felt their ears must be broken. They thought to themselves: fine, the Bai siblings don't understand land warfare, but why was the helmsman also talking nonsense? Was Ganzhou a place that could simply be bypassed?

If Ganzhou could be bypassed at will, then wouldn't the Song dynasty people who built the city here have been fools? And wouldn't Yuan Chonghuan, who had massed heavy troops in Ganzhou, also be a fool?

But Lin Qian's expression did not look like he was joking.

Ma Chenglie could only clasp his hands and explain: "Helmsman, according to reports from the front, Ganzhou has at least twenty thousand troops inside.

If our army divides its forces, we would repeat the disaster of the Battle of Sarhu.

If our army takes a detour, we would expose our supply lines, and the entire army would face the danger of annihilation."

"The new troops stay put. We go by water."

Lin Qian's tone was resolute. The pointer slid slowly across the map, tracing a line of advance from Nan'ao Island, along the outer seas of Fujian and Zhejiang, all the way to the Zhoushan Islands, then west into the Yangtze, sailing upstream to arrive directly at Poyang Lake.

Everyone understood, and all were struck speechless by this astonishing line of advance.

This plan leaped entirely out of the constraints of land confrontation, pulling the battlefield onto the waters where Nan'ao excelled most.

The Gan River flowed into Poyang Lake. Once the Nan'ao navy took Poyang Lake and then sailed upstream, they could control the entire Gan River. At that point, whether besieging the city to cut off its food or coordinating waterborne support for the advance, taking Ganzhou would be within sight.

But the problem was—this was damn dangerous!

Along the entire route, Chongming County, Zhenjiang Prefecture, Yingtian Prefecture, and so on—not a single city was under Nan'ao's control.

Once the navy entered the Yangtze, it would be a lone force deep in enemy territory, completely without supply, extremely vulnerable to having its retreat cut off and being annihilated.

Moreover, Yuan Chonghuan had long anticipated that Nan'ao would advance by sea, and had already pulled the elite Jiangnan naval forces back to huddle around Poyang Lake.

When the naval battle came, the Ming army would be fighting entirely at their ease, defending on home ground—who could say who would win or lose?

As things stood, the new army was hard-pressed trying to take Ganzhou, and if they couldn't crack it they could still withdraw. But if the navy pushed into Poyang Lake and lost, suffering a heavy blow, the whole of Nan'ao might well face catastrophe.

So once everyone came to their senses, they unanimously opposed it.

"I know this plan is perilous," Lin Qian said slowly. "But if we don't risk a dangerous gambit, we will never take the city of Ganzhou."

Lin Qian spoke slowly.

"Even if that barbarian Yuan leaves, his successor will still stockpile heavy troops in Ganzhou, continuing to threaten Fujian and Guangdong and tying down our forces.

Moreover, Jiangxi is now in the grip of servant uprisings everywhere. Even if we set aside the people of Jiangxi and think only of ourselves, this is a once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity to attack Ganzhou."

Previously, Lin Qian had held off on using force in Jiangxi out of concern that the power of the local gentry was too strong.

But now that the servant uprisings had come, three of the five great clans had been wiped out entirely. The power of all the great clans in Jiangxi had suffered a catastrophic blow—upper-level authority, wealth, and land were all being reshuffled, leaving a power vacuum at the grassroots.

Moreover, the servant uprisings and deflation had sharpened the contradictions between the small and mid-sized landlords and the great clans. There was no need to win them over—they would naturally side with Nan'ao, perfectly matching the strategy Lin Qian had previously proposed of "strike only the ringleaders, ask no questions of the coerced."

Furthermore, this servant uprising had prematurely ignited Jiangxi, which had been riddled with contradictions like a powder keg. All the conflicts were now concentrated on the heads of the corrupt rebel leaders and the great clans, clearing away hidden dangers for Nan'ao's governance.

Jiangxi right now was like someone who had stripped themselves clean, waiting for Nan'ao to take over.

Faced with such a heaven-sent opportunity, how could anyone hold back?

Besides, fear stems from the unknown. Without investigation and understanding, one inevitably imagines the enemy as invincible.

What if the Yangtze River channel was not as terrifying as everyone imagined?

Lin Qian had Ran Qiu fetch a small booklet and spread it open on the table.

Everyone looked at the booklet, seeing it was filled with dates, weather, hydrological data, and the like—a very standard ship's log, entirely in the academic style, completely different from the sort of rivers-and-lakes log that Zhong Aqi kept.

Lin Qian said: "This is the hydrological record from the mouth of the Yangtze to Poyang Lake, surveyed by Zheng Hongkui sailing a two-masted Fujian junk."

Zheng Zhilong was startled inwardly, and looked again at the booklet—sure enough, it was in his own brother's hand. He cursed silently: "You little rascal, for such a big matter, you didn't even tell me!"

"According to the survey, from the Yangtze to the mouth of Poyang Lake, the main channel in summer is two to four zhang deep, with good navigability. Even the Candle Dragon could pass with a half load.

Moreover, the defenses on both banks are neglected, and the prefectures and counties along the way have no ability to control the river. Even if the navy fares poorly in a battle at Poyang Lake, they can safely withdraw before the dry season arrives."

Lin Qian paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.

"If we can win this battle, the entire war situation in Jiangxi will be reversed, and Nan'ao can then strike directly into the two provinces of Jiangxi and Zhejiang.

The Great Ming will have lost all its elite forces in the south, and from then on will be unable to launch any offensive. The balance of attack and defense will be reversed!

Over two hundred years ago, the Hongwu Emperor, Zhu Yuanzhang, staked everything he had on a great battle at Poyang Lake against Chen Youliang, annihilating his old rival in one stroke and establishing the dynasty.

Over two hundred years later, it is precisely at Poyang Lake that we will end the dragon-vein fortune of the Great Ming.

Gentlemen, are you willing to come with me?"

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen