Chapter 413: Chongzhen Directs the Battle at Guangqu Gate

At the fourth watch the next day, gongs and horns sounded at the eastern drill ground outside the capital's outer wall. Soldiers of the Left Sentinel Company of the Five Armies Battalion straggled into their gear and assembled before the review platform.

On the platform, the Major shouted at full volume.

Wang Chengzu stood dozens of rows away from him—he couldn't make out a word the Major said.

"Squad Leader, Squad Leader, what's that monkey saying?"

The speaker was his soldier Chen Gouzi, a pressed laborer seized half a year ago who had only recently joined the army—which was why he still had interest in the Major's nonsense. The veteran soldiers all leaned on their weapons, pretending to doze.

Wang Chengzu said: "We're going to war."

"Ah? We're—we're really fighting?" Chen Gouzi's face was full of fear.

Hu San, another member of the squad, laughed: "Before a big battle they always hand out back pay. Wait for the windbag to finish his farting and we'll get our silver. If you're scared, take the money and run."

Chen Gouzi forced a smile: "Don't joke around."

The whole city was under martial law—every gate and wall was watched by men of the Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard. How could anyone run?

Even if he could get out of the city, where would he flee?

Beyond the walls were all Jianzhou barbarian scouts and outriders. Get caught by them, and he'd be dragged beyond the passes to serve as an Aha slave.

Get caught by the Xia army, and it would be even worse—summary execution.

That was what their general had said, and he'd also said that was exactly how the Denglai naval forces had been slaughtered to the last man by the Xia army.

Just as Chen Gouzi was fretting, the Major on the platform finished his farting. Soldiers brought out chests of silver and handed each man his pay.

Three taels per man—less than two months' wages, not even enough to cover the arrears owed them. This was their death money before going to the battlefield, and every soldier of the Five Armies Battalion took it with curses.

In fact, Chongzhen's appeal for donations to support the troops had raised a total of one hundred twenty thousand taels. Adding the thirty thousand taels Chongzhen scraped together by emptying the privy purse from his own pocket, after rewards for the generals and purchases of grain and fodder, the silver for rewarding the troops came to seventy thousand taels.

Not counting the forcibly pressed laborers and the condemned prisoners filling out the numbers, over ten thousand fighting men were to share this reward money. That worked out to more than six taels per man—three or four taels short of what they actually received. Where that money went, only heaven knows.

With a great battle imminent, no one could investigate anymore.

After receiving his silver, Wang Chengzu gave one tael to the Platoon Leader and asked for leave—he wanted to see his old mother one last time before going to war.

The Platoon Leader and Wang Chengzu were old acquaintances. He slipped the silver into his bosom without a change of expression: "Go on. Be back before the sixth watch—that's when we muster to march out. Miss roll call and you'll be treated as a deserter."

Wang Chengzu said hurriedly: "I understand, I understand."

The Platoon Leader said with satisfaction: "Go."

As Wang Chengzu left camp, he saw a group of men sitting on the ground eating breakfast. They wore motley clothes, and their feet were bound together in a chain—these were the newly recruited condemned prisoners.

Among them were mountain bandits, rapists, human traffickers, murderers, and even pale-faced scholars.

A Platoon Leader was walking before these condemned prisoners, shouting: "On the battlefield, any man who retreats dies! Kill one enemy soldier and cut off his head as proof, and you live! All crimes forgiven, and you'll receive a reward—five taels of silver per head!"

The condemned prisoners listened with excited faces, itching to try.

The one who looked like a bandit laughed: "Delightful! Once we're on the battlefield, brothers, stay close to me, and we'll win ourselves wealth and glory together!"

That bandit had a face full of coarse flesh, tattooed arms, and knotted muscles—a very fierce appearance. He was none other than Lin Zhonghu, the horse bandit who had been terrorizing Zhili recently.

Hearing this, the murderers, rapists, and other scum around him all fawned on Lin Zhonghu, even giving him their breakfast.

Wang Chengzu passed by this group of scum and left the camp. On the streets he found chaos everywhere—signs of looting and ruin on all sides. Depot and Guard agents patrolled the roads, and anyone who looked suspicious was executed on the spot.

He personally saw a man who said grain was being hoarded by the great households get seized by an agent, dragged into an alley—and a moment later, his pleas for mercy came to an abrupt end.

Wang Chengzu ran to the grain shop and found the price had become absurd—two qian of silver per dou of coarse rice.

He bought two dou of grain and carried it home on his shoulder.

He had married a wife in earlier years, but she had died of illness, and his son and daughter had died of illness one after the other. Only his elderly mother remained in the household.

When he pushed open the courtyard gate, his mother was sitting on the threshold twisting hemp rope. Hearing the noise, she looked up.

"Going out of the city again?" The old woman's voice was terribly hoarse.

"Mm. Going to hold the line outside the city for a few days. Not far."

Wang Chengzu set the coarse rice he'd bought and the remaining reward silver on the edge of the kang, then picked up a carrying pole and buckets and headed out.

His mother stopped him: "Can't you not go?"

Wang Chengzu knew in his heart that this trip boded ill, but he still pretended to be at ease: "I'll be back in a few days, Mother. Don't worry."

With that he shouldered the buckets and went out, filling the family water vat to the brim, then splitting the whole bundle of firewood and stacking it along the base of the wall.

He borrowed a ladder from the neighbors and patched the leaking spots in the roof with wheat straw.

When all this was done, it was nearly the sixth watch. He dusted himself off and said: "Mother, I'm heading back."

"Wait." His mother dug two eggs out of the embers of the stove, still dusted with wood ash.

Carefully she wiped away all the ash and pressed the eggs into Wang Chengzu's hands.

"Take them. Something to fill your stomach on the road. When you hear gunfire and cannon, remember to crouch low. Don't charge forward. When it's time to play dead, play dead. You hear me?"

Wang Chengzu lowered his head, not daring to meet his mother's eyes.

"I hear you."

His mother helped brush the dust from his clothes, smoothed the wrinkles in his garments, and said softly: "Go."

Wang Chengzu acknowledged with a grunt, waved his hand, and strode off toward the drill ground.

When he returned to the barracks, he saw Zhao Laogun gambling at dice with Hu San. The two taels of loose silver they'd just received lay on the ground as the stakes.

Zhang Shitou sat in the corner of the room, polishing his waist knife.

Chen Gouzi sat at the tent entrance, staring up at the sky, lost in thought.

Others huddled together drinking wine; some lay back down for a second sleep.

Everyone's armor was already donned, their weapons at hand—they were ready to set out.

The moment Wang Chengzu entered the tent, his tentmates greeted him one after another: "Squad Leader."

Wang Chengzu nodded in response as he put on his armor. The armor he wore was an old lamellar coat handed down from his grandfather. Both his grandfather and father had died in battle wearing it, and the front still bore the arrow scar from his father's death. But armor was better than no armor.

The weapons and equipment of the Five Armies Battalion were mostly like this—issued by the army or passed down from ancestors, all of it junk.

Zhang Shitou said with slight excitement: "The scouts just reported the enemy is ten li away. Time to win our merit. We're not like those condemned prisoners—for us, one severed head is worth twenty taels of silver!"

He was young, a son of a hereditary military household, and a raw recruit who had only joined the army three months ago, his heart full of dreams of winning glory and establishing merit on the battlefield.

Wang Chengzu did not know what to say, and only replied: "When you get on the field, don't think about heads — survive first."

"Mm." Zhang Shitou acknowledged with a grunt, then lowered his head and continued wiping his blade, whether he had taken the words to heart or not was unclear.

"Woo——" Just then, the conch horn sounded from the mustering platform.

Wang Chengzu tightened his armor straps, felt the egg tucked in his breast, and picked up his spear, saying: "Let's go, time to take the field."

Over ten thousand Ming soldiers slowly marched out of the city and formed ranks outside Guangqu Gate.

High atop the Guangqu Gate tower, Chongzhen led the assembled officials up to watch the battle, and saw the Ming army flowing out of the city like a river of crimson magma, spreading across the fields.

Below the walls, banners fluttered, armor plates clinked, war flags snapped in the wind, and warhorses neighed.

A great standard slowly emerged from the city, embroidered with a huge character: Zhou.

Beneath the great standard, Zhou Yuji, clad in full armor, sat astride his horse and turned back, clasping his fists in salute toward the gate tower.

Chongzhen, dressed in golden court robes, stood atop the gate tower and nodded in acknowledgment.

Behind Zhou Yuji's Daizhou troops came the soldiers of the Capital Camps, with Liu Yuanbin's Grand Five Army Camp clustering around him, marching at the very front.

Liu Yuanbin wore a brand-new suit of gleaming bright armor, sitting tall on his horse, imposing and majestic.

When he reached the moat bridge before Guangqu Gate, Liu Yuanbin ordered the soldiers to halt. He dismounted and, facing the direction of the gate tower, kowtowed with utmost reverence.

The generals accompanying him and the soldiers all around did the same, and the troops shouted "Long live!" in unison, their voices thundering and awe-inspiring.

Wang Chengzu's squad was blocked behind the moat, unable to move. Zhang Shitou turned his head back and said excitedly: "Look, it's His Majesty!"

Wang Chengzu scolded him: "Shut up, mind your own marching!"

After Liu Yuanbin finished his salutation, he was helped to his feet and mounted his horse, and only then did the Five Army Camp resume its march.

Per the pre-battle deployment, the Daizhou army was stationed on the southern line, and the Capital Camps on the northern line, their flanks adjoining, together forming a crimson wall outside Guangqu Gate.

Atop the Guangqu Gate tower, the civil and military officials of the Great Ming gathered together, while Chongzhen sat upright on the imperial throne, surveying the entire battlefield.

Zhang Fengyi, Minister of the Ministry of War, stood before the throne and pointed at the distant battlefield, saying: "Your Majesty, north of Guangqu Gate lies a tributary of the Tonghui River. The river is shallow and narrow — men and horses can wade across. The eight hundred elite cavalry of the Divine Pivot Camp are ambushed in the hills beyond the river's north bank——"

The predecessor of the Divine Pivot Camp was the famed Three Thousand Camp, originally formed from three thousand Mongol cavalrymen, hence its name.

During the Yongle era, the Three Thousand Camp was the most elite field cavalry force in all the Great Ming, at full strength numbering nearly twenty thousand men. Later, Zhu Qizhen squandered them in a single battle, and the entire force was wiped out.

After the Three Great Camps were reestablished during the Jiajing era, the Three Thousand Camp was renamed the Divine Pivot Camp.

By the Chongzhen era, the Divine Pivot Camp still claimed five thousand iron cavalry on paper, but in reality suffered severe shortages, and their warhorses had been extensively embezzled — so much so that with a great enemy at hand, they could only scrape together eight hundred riders.

Zhang Fengyi continued: "Your Majesty, at the southern end of the battlefield lies a small village enclosed by earthen walls, called Shilipu, surrounded by a stretch of woodland — perfectly suited for infantry to conceal themselves.

One thousand elite soldiers of the Daizhou army are hidden there.

Once the two armies clash, the ambushes on left and right will strike out, and the enemy can be broken."

Those atop the gate tower were all civil officials, unversed in military affairs. Hearing this explanation, they nodded quietly to themselves, a glimmer of hope appearing in their eyes.

Just then, one official pointed into the distance and said: "What is that?"

With a great enemy at hand, no one reproached him for breaching court etiquette before the emperor. The assembled ministers followed his pointing finger and looked — only to see a mass of brownish-yellow dust appear on the distant horizon, stretching for several li.

Zhang Fengyi said: "The rebel army is coming!"

The moment his words fell, a fast rider came galloping at full speed, its four hooves churning up a line of dust across the open plain.

"Enemy at ten li! Enemy at ten li! Enem——"

The rider shouted at the front of the formation for a while, then spurred his horse away into the distance.

The gate tower was filled with hushed murmurs. Grand Secretary Wu Zongda said in a low voice: "The capital has tall walls and deep moats — why not order the soldiers back into the city and defend along the walls?"

Duke of Chengguo Zhu Chunchen said: "United forces are strong; divided forces are weak. The capital's walls stretch over forty li in circumference — if we defend the walls, even a hundred thousand men would not be enough."

Since the Tumu Crisis, whether it was Minister Yu's defense of the capital or the capital battle during the Jisi Incident, the Ming army had always taken the initiative to sally out and fight in the open field.

Cowering inside the city and letting the bandits run rampant had happened only once — when Yan Song was in power and Altan Khan broke through the passes.

Relying on a mere ten thousand men to hold the city walls was idiotic from every angle — military, political, or economic.

Wu Zongda was a yes-man personally promoted by Wen Tiren. Since entering the Grand Secretariat, he had done nothing but flatter and fawn, achieving nothing whatsoever — even the meritorious nobles, themselves parasites of the same stripe, looked down on him.

Having been snubbed, Wu Zongda shot Zhu Chunchen a glare and fell silent.

After a long while more, the dust to the east grew ever larger, and gradually a dark, oppressive shadow emerged within the haze.

The war drums and footsteps of the Xia army could already be faintly heard.

The gate tower gradually quieted, which only made the footsteps and drumbeats all the clearer. More and more Xia soldiers appeared over the horizon, arranged into several columns, like surging floodwaters.

Three scout riders came galloping from the distance, racing back and forth before the formation.

"Enemy at five li! Enemy at five li——"

The scout's slightly trembling voice landed clearly upon the gate tower, reaching the ears of the assembled civil and military officials.

Amid the howling wind, even the snapping of the Ming army's war banners could be heard.

As the Xia army drew closer, the entire battlefield grew gloomy and murderous.

Zhang Fengyi stealthily leaned forward to glance at the sky, and saw vast dark clouds blotting out the heavens. The single sliver of sun that remained was veiled in dust, casting a sallow pallor over the faces of all those on the gate tower.

A fierce gust of wind swept into the gate tower, mixed with sand and dust, choking everyone's throats.

Wen Tiren lowered his eyes, his hand gripping his court beads, slowly rolling them one by one between his fingers.

Zhang Yixian hunched his back, standing at Chongzhen's side, his expression growing ever more cautious — even his breathing was reduced to small, slow sips of air.

Wang Chengen looked at the assembled ministers, then at His Majesty's countenance, and surreptitiously wiped the sweat from his brow.

To the southwest of the battlefield, on the high ridge of Huangcun, Ajige reined his horse to a stop atop it, eyes narrowed, intently watching the movements of the Xia army.

The scout returned to camp and reported the Ming army's deployment and movements.

Ajige said in a deep voice: "How many cannons does each side have?"

"The Ming army has twenty red barbarian cannons, and countless crouching tiger and Folangji cannons——the Xia army has——over two hundred red barbarian cannons——"

"Pfft—cough cough cough——" A janggi banner captain of the Plain White Banner was just tilting his head back to drink water. Choked by the news, water spilled all over his chest. He had no time to wipe it off, and asked in rapid succession: "How many?"

"Over two hundred cannons," the scout reported. "There are also some tiger-crouch cannons. Nearly every infantryman carries a musket, but very few wear armor."

Since landing, the Xia army's heavy artillery and ammunition and supplies had all been loaded on sand boats, transported along the sea and rivers.

Only now, through scouts, did they learn the Xia army's exact number of cannons today.

Over two hundred—what a concept that was.

Their khan had built the Ujen Cooha force with the strength of the entire nation, and even that had fewer than a hundred cannons.

A single Xia army unit of over ten thousand men carried more red barbarian cannons than the entire Great Qing!

After the initial shock, the generals were seized with wild joy. The commander of the Bordered White Banner's company-level officer clasped his hands and said, "Master, if we can seize all two hundred of these cannons, it's worth more than months of plundering beyond the passes!"

"Master, even if we move the main force here and let those Han Chinese slaves run off, we can just catch more. There are as many Han inside the passes as rabbits on the grassland.

But if these two hundred cannons get into the city, it will be hard for us to get them again."

For a moment, the generals of the two White Banners vied to volunteer for battle.

Ajige licked his lips, staring at the dark mass of the Xia army on the horizon with burning eyes—clearly tempted as well.

But after hesitating a moment, he still said, "Transfer another thousand cavalry here. Only then can we take more."

"Master!"

Ajige said, "The Great Khan said we must let Lin Qian and Li Zicheng slaughter each other inside the passes. We cannot intervene too heavily.

I see the Xia army's formation is tight. Now is not a good time to strike. If we fight and there's an opening, three thousand men will be enough to rout the southern barbarians. If there's no opening, at least we still have our men and goods."

Hearing Ajige's words, the generals all felt he was right and stopped their clamor.

After a while, the sky grew darker. Though it was noon, the light was like dusk.

Ajige raised his hand to look at the sky—only to see black clouds churning overhead, twisting and tangling together.

"What time is it?"

"Almost the end of the Horse hour, beginning of the Goat hour."

With the sky so dark at noon, there might be a heavy rain coming.

A slight smile curled at the corner of Ajige's mouth: "Heaven itself is helping us."

Before the Kai Canal Gate, the Ming scouts had stopped their coming and going.

The Xia army had already pressed forward to within three li. With a deep, long horn blast, its entire column suddenly spread into a battle line—the formation change was extremely fast, with no hesitation at all.

The front-rank soldiers wore uniform dark-cyan military uniforms, held Type 02 muskets, had paper cartridges strung across their chests, and tightly packed marching backpacks behind them.

An entire Xia army unit had uniform weapons, uniform bearing, and nearly uniform footsteps—as if they had all come out of the same mold.

Even the civil officials on the city wall could feel the sense of pressure.

As the Xia army drew closer, the war drums grew clearer.

Suddenly, a string of orange-red firelight flashed in the far distance, and then a wall of fire stretching over a hundred zhang surged up.

"That is—" Chongzhen's words had just left his mouth.

Boom—like thunder, the cannon roar rolled in, swallowing all his remaining words.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Chongzhen's heart trembled with fright, but his face did not change at all. Only beneath his dragon robe, his fists were clenched tight, his palms sweating, his chest pounding without stop.

Quite a few officials were startled into a shiver by the cannon fire.

With a shrill shriek in the air, a volley of solid iron balls crashed down, then bounced up again, sending dust and sand flying everywhere.

Dozens of cannonballs ricocheted several times, drilling into the Capital Camps' formation, plowing up bursts of bloody mist as soldiers struck by the cannon fire screamed in agony.

Severed limbs were blasted into the sky, spinning before falling into the moat.

One cannonball struck a squad of fifteen soldiers—the shot instantly blasted three men into pulp, seriously wounded four others, and disemboweled one man, his intestines and organs spraying out mixed with blood and flesh.

Amid the gore, the solid iron ball rolled without stopping, then rolled all the way into the moat, splashing up a sheet of water.

Both Ming army formations stirred in commotion, then were steadied by officers' shouts and curses.

Zhang Fengyi saw this scene, his face turning pale, his stomach churning. Especially when he smelled the heavy stench of blood and organs in the wind, he nearly vomited and quickly averted his gaze.

Chongzhen's face was also completely bloodless, but he said, "Why doesn't Zhou Yuji fire first?"

Wen Tiren said, "Perhaps General Zhou has other plans."

Zhu Chunchen gave him a disdainful look, clasped his hands, and said, "The rebels' cannons outrange ours, Your Majesty need not worry. Our formation is loose and not afraid of bombardment. If the enemy keeps firing like this, their ammunition will soon run out."

Chongzhen said, "Still, we cannot lose our momentum. Order the cannons on the walls to fire in support!"

"Yes!" The eunuch attendant went to deliver the decree.

Before long, the cannons on the Kai Canal Gate fired in unison, the cannonballs all landing in the middle of the battlefield—far short of the Xia army's position—but at least propping up the Great Ming's prestige.

Suddenly, a signal cannon sounded from the southern route. Five-colored flags waved, and the entire Daiyuan army shouted in unison, advancing forward in formation.

Chongzhen's eyes tightened, his heart filled with doubt and alarm. He asked those around him, "What's going on? Why are they advancing?"

The officials exchanged bewildered looks, none daring to answer.

It was Zhu Chunchen again who spoke: "Our firearms don't have the range. If we want to counterattack, we have to move forward."

Chongzhen said, "But wouldn't that mean giving up the protection of the city walls?"

"This—" Zhu Chunchen fell silent. He was a noble, descended from the Jingnan famous general Zhu Neng. His family had a deep scholarly tradition with some knowledge of military affairs, but he was only roughly versed in it. Having never fought a single battle in his life, when faced with such a complex battle situation today, he was at a loss.

The Daiyuan army advanced over a hundred paces under cannon fire, while Liu Yuanbin's Capital Camps still stalled without moving forward. The officials did not understand why.

At this moment, a fast horse galloped out of the city. The messenger ran up the city wall, knelt before Chongzhen, paid his respects respectfully, and then said, "Reporting to Your Majesty, the Daiyuan army has advanced to meet the enemy. Should the Capital Camps coordinate and advance together? Please give Your Majesty's command."

All the officials were startled. Even if they knew nothing of military affairs, they understood that the battlefield changes in an instant and opportunities are fleeting—how could everything require asking for instructions?

They were about to advise against it, but seeing the contemplative look on Chongzhen's face, they swallowed their words.

Chongzhen pondered a moment: "Tell Liu Yuanbin to coordinate with Zhou Yuji and advance. There must be no mistake."

"Yes!" The messenger thanked the emperor, then quickly ran down the city wall, mounted his horse, crossed the bridge, and returned to his own formation.

By the time the Capital Camps began to advance, the Daiyuan army had already moved forward over two hundred paces.

Seeing the Ming army voluntarily offer up a protruding salient, the Great Xia artillery regiment swung their cannon muzzles around and pounded the Yuan army fiercely.

Even from a great distance, one could see dark silhouettes streaking across the Yuan army's formation, and wherever they passed, the entire field was shrouded in a bloody red mist.

With the Capital Camps' oath-sworn troops drawing the enemy's fire, there was almost no obstruction along the advance route.

After the two armies joined forces, the front formation spread even wider. Five hundred leather-covered carts were pushed out from within the formation, with soldiers hiding behind the carts as they pushed them forward.

Zhang Fengyi swallowed hard: "Your Majesty, that cart formation—what the soldiers are pushing are proper box carts. This formation is specifically designed to counter cavalry and firearms."

The moment he finished speaking, one of the box carts on the front line took a cannon hit. The savage power of a twenty-four-pounder easily tore through the three-inch-thick wooden planks, and the shot, barely slowing, blasted the string of infantry behind the cart into a bloody mist.

Wood splinters and smoke dust rose a full man's height into the air.

Half of the cart's side panels collapsed, and the fire-lance pots on the cart rolled off and were ignited by the flying sparks.

With a thunderous boom, flames wrapped in black smoke shot skyward. The entire cart exploded into a ball of fire, the axle shattered, and a burning wooden wheel was hurled high into the air.

Soldiers within several paces were all knocked flat by the shockwave.

Burning wood chips scattered in all directions, falling like a rain of fire.

The box cart was indeed useful against fire lances and firelocks, but before red barbarian cannons, it was nothing but paper.

The crowd was greatly taken aback, and Zhang Fengyi flushed crimson with embarrassment. He had only been talking theory from books after all—when those military manuals were written, "cannon" still meant tiger-crouch cannons and Folangji breech-loaders. Those two types had small bores, poor gas sealing, and weak penetrating power, so naturally the cart formation had been considered a tactic that countered firearms.

On the city wall, an awkward silence fell for a moment, when suddenly the sound of great horns rang out from the battlefield.

Then an ear-splitting roar of battle cries erupted, and a wave of Ming soldiers burst through the gaps between the box carts, charging fiercely at the enemy formation.

Zhang Fengyi's heart pounded. He thought to himself: "Is this the whole army pressing forward already?"

Chongzhen rose from his seat, his hands trembling slightly beneath his dragon robe. Despite trying his utmost to suppress it, his speech was still a bit faster than usual: "What is going on? What kind of horn signal is this?"

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen