Chapter 191

"The Jianzhou Jurchens' intent is obvious—they're surrounding Jinzhou to lure us into rescue mode. You'll lead the vanguard; proceed with utmost caution."

Wang Yan's force of over three thousand men could not be compared to those of any other officer.

Look at the front line—neat, disciplined, sprinting forward—and contrast it with the rear, a chaotic, sluggish mass, where some even dare to gossip.

Man Gui was well aware: Wang Yan and his troops were his most formidable unit. Especially those vanguard cavalry—they had all fought the Jianzhou Jurchens in open-field battles.

Wang Yan nodded: "My lord, my reconnaissance cavalry have advanced thirty li ahead—all loyal veterans who've served with me for years. They'll spot any movement immediately."

Sending out scouts was standard procedure; often, the first clash in battle was between opposing reconnaissance units. Seizing the initiative heavily influenced the outcome of war. After all the time Wang Yan spent harassing the enemy rear, if he couldn't detect enemy movements early, he'd have been dead eight hundred times over. His scouts, needless to say, were seasoned veterans—more than sufficient.

Man Gui nodded: "Good. Report enemy movements immediately. Don't act rashly. Go."

"Yes, my lord."

Wang Yan bowed, mounted his horse, and rode off.

Upon receiving orders, Man Gui led over twenty thousand men to reinforce Jinzhou.

In truth, thanks to Wang Yan's gifts of battlefield merits and silver, Man Gui was the undisputed leader of the Liaodong army—even Zhao Shujiao, another general, couldn't challenge him. But the system was the system: Yuan Chonghuan was the nominal Regional Commander of Liaodong, the one-man authority. To disobey him was rebellion. And yet, after the enemy had besieged the city for seven days, Yuan Chonghuan only now ordered Man Gui to move? He'd been thinking about it since last century.

Of course, Wang Yan was merely mocking Yuan Chonghuan as a cowardly turtle. In truth, the Great Ming couldn't match the Jianzhou Jurchens in open-field combat. But when raw strength fell short, tactics made up the difference—and Yuan Chonghuan's tactic was to hide like a turtle. Perhaps in his heart, he'd never once considered offense.

Those matters had little to do with him. He arrived at the front of the column, joining his men to lead them toward Jinzhou.

His three-thousand-strong force consisted of only a thousand cavalry; the rest were infantry. Even those thousand cavalry were captured mounts seized from the Later Jin—otherwise, he'd never have had enough quality horses to equip them. Nearly all of Liaodong's horses were under Yuan Chonghuan's control. After all this time training them, when the Jianzhou Jurchens attacked, they were all guarding Ningyuan…

Still, his infantry had all undergone proper cavalry training. With a horse, any could switch roles—though their combat effectiveness might be weaker, they could still charge alongside cavalry in favorable engagements without issue. After all this training, even his worst conscript soldier outperformed the gossiping veterans behind him.

The entire column moved in silence, only the rhythmic tread of feet echoing—like a deep, still pool, calm on the surface, bottomless, waiting for the prey to ripple the water before unleashing the long-hoarded thunder.

Previously, they had been stationed before Ningyuan, only a hundred to two hundred li from Jinzhou—easily reachable within a day or two.

They set out at dawn; by noon, they had covered half the distance. Their current location was near what would, four hundred years later, be Huludao—roughly seventy li from Jinzhou.

Wang Yan received word from the rear: halt, rest, and eat.

The order made sense. Though speed was vital in warfare, the situation was different now—the Later Jin forces clearly intended to engage. An ambush was inevitable. They were already outmatched; if they exhausted themselves rushing forward, while the enemy rested and waited, they'd be nothing but meat for the chopping block.

Wang Yan waved his hand. His messenger, understanding instantly, spurred his horse forward, shouting orders to halt and eat. Soon, the entire column stopped. Soldiers pulled out pre-prepared dried rations and jerky from their packs and ate.

Officers received no special treatment—rations were identical for all. Even Wang Yan, the garrison commander, ate the same fare.

In campaign and battle, food was a major concern. Wang Mou never forgot it. He had long organized teams to improve the rations—this was the result. He didn't care about the specifics; he simply gave an order, and a group of barefoot doctors and cooks fiddled with it.

The current ration tasted mediocre: a hodgepodge of medicinal herbs, grain, dried fruit, and other scraps pressed into hard cakes. Soaked in water and eaten with salted jerky—it met the basic requirements of military rations.

As Wang Yan pondered this, he'd barely taken two bites when two riders galloped up from ahead, kicking up dust. Before their horses stopped, both leapt off, sprinted two steps, and knelt before Wang Yan, who sat on the ground: "My lord, fifteen li ahead, near Zhaoli Mountain, the Jianzhou Jurchens have laid an ambush—three to four thousand cavalry, over ten thousand infantry."

Wang Yan waved his hand to clear the dust before him: "Were we spotted?"

"No," the soldier chuckled apologetically. "But we killed a few of their scouts. It's noon now—they'll likely notice soon."

"Go. Keep monitoring enemy movements. Report instantly." Wang Yan turned and called his messenger: "Go inform General Man Gui. Ask for his orders."

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"Yes, my lord." The messenger swallowed his food in three bites, mounted his horse, and galloped back toward the rear.

Sun Fugui said: "My lord, you're not seriously planning to fight them in open battle, are you?"

"Why?"

Wang Yan looked at the group of officers watching him and asked calmly.

"We have only a thousand cavalry. The other two thousand, though trained, lack combat experience—they won't stand against Jianzhou cavalry. And their infantry… the ones behind us can only handle easy victories. If this goes wrong, we're finished."

"Old Sun, we haven't even fought yet, and you're already thinking of total annihilation?" Wang Yan glared at Sun Fugui. "Penalty: six months' share of the pot. Pathetic."

Sun Fugui didn't mind the fine. He grinned: "If only I could get fined…"

Wang Yan punched Sun Fugui lightly, then scanned the officers: "If we can't win head-on, we find another way. I'm not leading you to die. And don't forget—we still have our secret weapon. Besides, I'm only seventeen. I haven't even gotten married yet. I'm not ready to die."

At this, all rank distinctions vanished—they burst into laughter. This garrison commander was great in every way… except he was still a virgin. Hilarious. As for the secret weapon—they all knew: explosives. One blast, a whole group gone.

Wang Yan didn't mind the teasing. He was simply easing the tension. Though his officers had all fought Mobile Corps Commander skirmishes with him in Later Jin territory, those were small-scale encounters. Compared to this—tens of thousands clashing, with unreliable allies—fear was inevitable.

After they finished eating and rested another half-day, the messenger returned with Man Gui's orders: hold position.

Soon after, Man Gui arrived with a small detachment. Without preamble, he asked Wang Yan: "What's the situation? Have they spotted us?"

Wang Yan nodded: "We killed a few of their scouts earlier. After this long, they've likely noticed."

Man Gui frowned: "What's your plan?"

"Fight."

"Fight?" Man Gui shook his head. "The terrain is open, flat, no cover. What do we fight with?"

"My lord, they have only three thousand cavalry—we have nearly the same. As for infantry, we outnumber them two to one. We must at least probe. And… if we don't fight, how do we explain it?"

Man Gui knew they had to fight. He'd only asked to hear Wang Yan suggest avoiding direct confrontation.

Tactics and strategy meant nothing here. All routes were mountainous; a flanking maneuver would take too long. And their strength was already inferior—splitting forces would be suicide. Jinzhou was under siege; it could fall any moment. They could choose not to come—but they couldn't come and not fight at all.

"Then… we fight at Zhaoli Mountain—only there does the terrain hinder cavalry mobility…" Man Gui mused. "You handle their cavalry. What's your plan?"

"I request all horses be assigned to my troops. Compared to them…"

"All yours."

Wang Yan nodded and continued: "If we charge head-on, I won't break through their cavalry. So I plan to lure them away, then strike when the moment comes. That will increase the pressure on your side…"

"No problem. Twenty thousand infantry against ten thousand is already favorable—far better than letting cavalry mow us down like grass. But you…" Man Gui said, "Don't be reckless. If you can't win, withdraw early. As long as the green mountains remain, firewood will never run out."

"Yes, my lord."

Wang Yan replied, saying no more. This battle, because of him, saw Hong Taiji launch earlier than history recorded—with more troops. And Jinzhou's defenses remained incomplete.

If Jinzhou fell, the last barrier beyond the pass was Ningyuan. Losing a hundred li of territory, the deaths of so many soldiers and civilians—even if Zhu Youxiao didn't execute him, Wang Yan's conscience would never forgive him.

So this battle—he had to fight. And he had to win.

After some time, the main force caught up. Man Gui quickly deployed, transferring all horses to Wang Yan. Once everything was set, they resumed marching.

Now everyone knew battle was imminent. Most in the rear had stopped gossiping. Only a few veterans still chatted and laughed.

Silent march, another ten li. They climbed the first ridge of Zhaoli Mountain. Facing them, a dark, dense mass of figures. Wang Yan turned to Man Gui: "General, I'm going."

Man Gui nodded heavily: "Take care." If Wang Yan died, he'd truly miss him—this kid was both a treasure trove of military merit and a gift-bringer; after so long working together, their bond ran deep.

"You too, my lord, watch yourself."

With that, Wang Yan spurred his horse forward, rode up to the three thousand men, gave orders, and as shouts rang out, the entire front line of cavalry broke from the main force and charged straight toward the opposite hilltop.

Man Gui didn't move—he waited for Wang Yan to draw off the cavalry, then his infantry would engage. If the enemy cavalry wasn't lured away and his men charged up anyway, one single charge would cost them over a thousand casualties—too great a loss.

Seeing Wang Yan lead the charge, the enemy cavalry could no longer hold back—they accelerated and charged head-on, while their infantry pressed forward and began shooting arrows.

The distance across the valley wasn't far; cavalry charges happened in the blink of an eye. Arrows were useless—the speed was too great. Too far, and they missed; too close, and they hit their own men. This volley of arrow rain only brought down a few unlucky souls from Wang Yan's ranks; the rest were barely affected.

As the distance shrank further and entered bow range, the cavalry began shooting arrows at each other, suffering mutual losses.

When the distance closed even more, Wang Yan led his men in a sharp turn, veering off to one side.

This sudden maneuver caught them off guard—the enemy had expected a bloody, man-to-man clash, but these bastards ran off. After charging a few more steps and seeing the enemy infantry on the slope, they wheeled their horses and chased after Wang Yan.

After circling around, Wang Yan pretended to lead his men toward the enemy infantry. Honestly, troop quality showed clear differences: seeing cavalry approach, the enemy only panicked briefly, then reacted, beginning to shoot arrows at them. If this were Great Ming infantry in the same situation, they'd probably have thrown down their weapons and fled straight away…

Wang Yan had no real intention of attacking—once he saw them shooting, he turned his men again and pulled away from the battlefield.

The Later Jin cavalry behind them, seeing this, kept firing arrows while relentlessly pursuing. Their mission was open-field combat: to eliminate Great Ming's fighting strength. These three thousand cavalry were disciplined and well-trained—clearly elite Great Ming troops. If annihilated, it would deal a massive blow to the Ming army, and the rewards back home would surely be substantial.

Wang Yan led his men, occasionally firing back arrows, until they were far from the main battlefield, then halted atop a small hill.

Wang Yan called out: "Bring out the gear."

Hearing Wang Yan's order, the front-line hundreds pulled from their saddlebags… explosive packs.

Once everyone was ready, Wang Shou raised his arm and shouted: "Brothers, follow me—charge!"

No hesitation—he spurred his horse downhill toward the pursuing Later Jin cavalry. As the distance closed, Wang Yan lit the fuse, drew his bow full moon, and shot an arrow bound with a small explosive pack…

The Later Jin cavalry, aside from their own sabotage unit, had never taken any other cavalry force seriously. Seeing Ming troops charging them, they didn't slow—they sped up even more, howling as they drew bows and loosed arrows…

…………

In this battle, Wang Yan himself was slashed twice, and over fifteen hundred of his men were killed or wounded. The enemy lost only a few hundred who fled in time; the rest were annihilated.

Such heavy casualties were unavoidable—only the original thousand or so who'd followed him had real battlefield experience; the rest were useless, and most of the dead and wounded came from those remaining two thousand. Even with explosive packs, their greatest impact came in the first wave—once both sides were locked in close combat, he couldn't possibly blow up his own men too…

After finishing this fight, there was no time to tally spoils. Wang Yan left a portion of lightly wounded men to care for the seriously injured, finish off the wounded, and loot corpses, then rode with his remaining thousand-plus men back to the infantry battlefield.

Great Ming troops were truly inferior: twenty thousand against ten thousand, and they got beaten down like dogs. Great Ming was truly done for.

Cavalry held absolute superiority over infantry, and with Wang Yan striking from behind, his thousand-plus men tore straight through the enemy lines. Of course, in the chaos of blades and spears, some unlucky souls died by their own comrades' weapons…

With the addition of over a thousand battle-hardened cavalry, the ten thousand Later Jin troops couldn't hold long. Wang Yan led one charge, then another, and the Later Jin soldiers broke—battlefield momentum flipped entirely: now the Ming army chased and hacked down the fleeing Later Jin troops. The Ming soldiers unleashed every ounce of strength, far more ferocious than before—these were heads! Promotion and wealth depended on this one moment…

Wang Yan found Man Gui, surrounded by his bodyguards, covered in blood, sitting and resting.

"My lord, are you alright?"

"No harm done—all Jianzhou Jurchen blood. Been too long off the battlefield—got a bit rusty." Man Gui sighed, then burst into loud laughter: "You rascal, you're good! You devoured over three thousand of their cavalry! What a glorious battle!"

Wang Yan shook his head: "My lord, nearly two thousand casualties—too heavy a loss…"

"What of the Jianzhou Jurchens?"

"A few hundred fled…"

"This is a great victory!" Man Gui sprang to his feet: "Lost two thousand men, annihilated over three thousand of their cavalry—isn't that enough? After lifting the siege of Jinzhou, when rewards are handed out, you might just become a Regimental Commander. The youngest Regimental Commander in Great Ming history—hahaha!"

"All thanks to your lordship's promotion."

"You…" Man Gui punched Wang Yan playfully: "Go on, tally the results and report to me. Send word to Jingcheng fast—let His Majesty rejoice!"

"Yes, my lord."

Wang Yan replied, mounted his horse, and returned to the site of the cavalry clash to clean up.

The explosive packs couldn't be exposed. Afterward, he ordered the surviving men to keep quiet: if you're still alive, you can still be promoted and rich—be grateful. Anyone who talks gets their whole family killed.

As for those killed by explosions, their mangled heads were trampled repeatedly by cavalry until they were unrecognizable—then they were left alone…

After clearing the battlefield, the results were tallied: seven thousand enemy killed, three thousand intact heads counted. Man Gui, grinning uncontrollably, wrote the battle report on the spot—two copies: one for Yuan Chonghuan, the other sent by fast horse to Jingcheng to announce the great victory.

Man Gui wouldn't indulge Yuan Chonghuan's antics this time. Yuan's only contribution was sending him to rescue Jinzhou—everything else was worthless. Civil officials might be weak in other areas, but stealing credit? They were masters. He wouldn't let that old bastard claim partial glory.

His men were shattered, and their original order was to rescue Jinzhou—but now, advancing was impossible. With no new orders, they could only halt, rest, treat the wounded, and await further instructions.

That night, they received Yuan Chonghuan's reply: gather remaining combat-ready troops, and tomorrow join the main force to rescue Jinzhou.

The next day, Yuan Chonghuan sent twenty thousand troops to join Man Gui's remaining ten thousand—thirty thousand total under Man Gui's command, continuing the rescue of Jinzhou. The wounded and sick would be transported to the rear by later reinforcements.

Originally, Man Gui had clashed with a Later Jin supply convoy, then retreated to Ningyuan. Thus, Jinzhou had received no reinforcements at all—it held out alone. But now, because Wang Yan's flapping wings had grown wild, perhaps this victory gave Yuan Chonghuan confidence—he felt invincible and insisted on striking the Later Jin again.

Or perhaps he was desperate—this victory had nothing to do with him, and he feared being held accountable. As Regional Commander, if a great victory occurred without his involvement, and Jinzhou still held out, yet he did nothing to seize this hard-won opportunity, it wouldn't be mere negligence—it would be begging for death.

When Hong Taiji received news of the defeat, he staggered, nearly collapsing.

He'd brought over sixty thousand, nearly seventy thousand men out, fully determined to seize supplies and return. He'd planned well: besiege Jinzhou first—if it fell, perfect; if not, lure and ambush reinforcements. Once the Ming reinforcements were crushed, Ningyuan would be vulnerable—then he'd strike Ningyuan. This way, he'd capture one city, then ride the momentum straight to Shanhai Pass's gates…

But he'd never counted on this: over ten thousand men couldn't defeat Great Ming's useless rabble. Only because he'd seized supplies from two captured cities and had extra resources did he avoid retreating home to farm.

But now he couldn't hold much longer. If Ming reinforcements arrived, he'd be drained dry. And this crushing defeat had already shattered morale. He must fight swiftly—or risk losing everything.

Thus, Hong Taiji ordered a full-scale assault on the city—not the half-hearted skirmishes before, but a desperate, all-out attack. Ming reinforcements were imminent; he had no time. He couldn't even take a city defended by twenty thousand—how could he take one defended by fifty thousand?

That night, they fought until deep into the second watch. Under Zhao Shuaijiao's command and the desperate defense of twenty thousand Jinzhou soldiers, the battle raged all night without result, inflicting significant casualties on the Later Jin forces.

At dawn, before Great Ming reinforcements arrived and without launching another open-field battle, Hong Taiji gathered his troops and withdrew—further delay was meaningless.

He'd come to plunder supplies, not to waste them on sieges and lose more men. Even if he annihilated the Ming reinforcements, it wouldn't matter—Ningyuan would still send more troops, just as before. Better to withdraw early and avoid a grinding stalemate. He knew his own limits—if the Ming truly refused to let him leave, he couldn't afford to fight them.

So, when Wang Yan and his men were still thirty li from Jinzhou, they met Zhao Shuaijiao's messenger… and halted, setting up camp again, awaiting orders…

The Ning-Jin War? No—Ningyuan wasn't touched at all. This was the Jinzhou War—and it ended here. The campaign lasted ten days; the result: Later Jin suffered a crushing defeat.

This was a true great victory. It crushed the Later Jin's arrogance and declared to the world: even as Great Ming, a vast empire, declined toward Mount Riluoxi, it was no petty barbarian state to be eyed with greed. Even toothless, it remained a tiger.

Wang Yan's little wings flapped ever wider…

That afternoon, Zhu Youxiao, who'd been carving wood, received news of yesterday's great victory at Zhaoli Mountain. Seeing the report's claim of fifteen thousand enemy destroyed, Zhu Youxiao nearly jumped for joy.

"This is excellent! Excellent!"

Wei Zhongxian chuckled in agreement: "All thanks to Your Majesty's divine strategy and discerning eye—this great victory is yours alone. The greatest credit belongs to Your Majesty."

Zhu Youxiao paused for a moment, thought about Man Gui and Wang Yan—of course, mainly about Wang Yan's affairs—and burst out laughing: "Eunuch speaks reason, speaks reason indeed... In this great victory, Wang Yan's contribution cannot be overlooked. The moment he won on his end, the siege of Jinzhou resolved itself. And those three thousand heads he sent last time—Eunuch, what do you say I should reward him with this time?"

"Reporting to Your Majesty, a young hero like Wang Yan, at such a young age already capable of such great feats, and at this very moment when our Great Ming is in need of talent—this old servant believes it would be best to promote him early, so as not to let him languish below, and so he may contribute even greater strength to our Great Ming."

After all, Wang Yan had sent him gifts, and in his words there had even been a tone of thanking the Eunuch for his favor, of looking to him as the one to follow. In Wei Zhongxian's heart, this counted as one of his own people. So speaking up now, working out benefits for his own man, could also increase his say in Liaodong—why not do it.

"Eunuch speaks reason. A man like Wang Yan cannot be lumped together with the others. For talent, one ought to promote them." Zhu Youxiao nodded in satisfaction, frowning and muttering to himself: "But what position to give him? General? No... still a bit short, with so many people eyeing it, it would easily invite jealousy... Vice General? No... Eunuch, what do you think about giving him a Colonel?"

Wei Zhongxian nodded and said: "This Wang Yan truly doesn't know what great fortune he has, to receive such care from Your Majesty. This old servant believes that nominally he can be a Colonel, and also a Mobile Corps Commander captain, but as for troops and horses... this old servant feels that rather than leaving them in the hands of those others, it would be better to give Wang Yan more men, so he can play an even greater role. If back then at the Battle of Sarhu there had been this Wang Yan leading one column of troops, how things would have turned out is really hard to say..."

"Mm... I understand." Zhu Youxiao nodded in approval: "Eunuch, go spread the news, let the common folk of Jingcheng share in the joy..."

"Yes, Your Majesty. This old servant takes his leave..."

Wei Zhongxian replied with a chuckle, bowed and stepped back twice before walking out, his mind calculating how to let that lad Wang Yan know of his, Wei Zhongxian's, contributions, to win over more of his heart...

One couldn't blame him for this—Wang Yan was simply too damn good at fighting. Liaodong had been beaten back step by step, with only Wang Yan alone racking up major gains every time. Such a talent, if not kept firmly in hand, left him uneasy...