Chapter 137: Rout

After the Qing army's latest assault had been beaten back by the rear camp's survivors with thunderclap bombs, before he could even catch his breath, Banner Chief Zhao Hu saw Zhao Sihai suddenly collapse in front of him.

Startled, he rushed over and saw blood seeping steadily from a wound in Zhao Sihai's upper right leg.

"Centurion, you're wounded!"

Zhao Sihai's wound was a mess of torn flesh, and with the naked eye one could faintly make out several lead balls embedded in it. Zhao Hu sucked in a cold breath, tore off a sleeve to bandage Zhao Sihai, and urgently called for men to carry him down.

"I'm fine. Just grazed by a musket ball. A flesh wound — it won't kill me."

The leg wound had Zhao Sihai's forehead drenched in sweat from the pain. Gritting his teeth against the agony, he motioned for Zhao Hu not to call anyone to carry him down, then asked, "How are the brothers' casualties?"

At the question, Zhao Hu's face darkened. He said in a low voice, "There's only a hundred or so of us left who can still move. Of our old brothers, only thirty-odd remain, and every one of them is wounded."

"Only a hundred or so left?"

Zhao Sihai sighed. The rear camp had begun with more than two thousand men, and now only a hundred-odd remained. This battle could not be called anything but brutal.

Seeing Zhao Sihai's dejected look, Zhao Hu hurried to console him.

"Our losses are heavy, but the Tartars haven't come off well either.

They've charged us several times and we've beaten them back every time. They've left at least two hundred corpses behind.

This fight — we haven't lost. Besides, the Battalion Commander's relief force is fighting its way up the mountain right now.

Judging by how the Tartars just fell back, I'd wager they don't dare throw any more men at us. Otherwise, the Battalion Commander will have them surrounded and wiped out!"

"You said it yourself — the Battalion Commander's relief force hasn't broken through yet. We've only got a hundred-odd men left. If the Battalion Commander doesn't make it in time and the Qing army charges again, what then?"

Zhao Sihai was not as optimistic as Zhao Hu. He could see it too: the Qing army was at the end of its strength, but a starved camel is still bigger than a horse.

As long as the relief force had not fought its way up the mountain, the rear camp's situation could not be viewed with any optimism.

If the Qing commander was determined to take the enemy at his back even at the cost of his own life, these hundred-odd men likely would not hold out until the relief force arrived — and then the several thousand old, weak, women, and children inside the hall would all fall into Qing hands.

Most of the front camp's soldiers had their families in the rear camp. If their wives and children fell into Qing hands, the front camp's morale would collapse in an instant, and the battle would be lost.

"We've still got a hundred-odd brothers and four thunderclap bombs.

At worst, we fight until every last brother is dead. Dawn is almost here, and the Tartars aren't made of iron either.

After fighting all night, they can't take much more. Once the Battalion Commander brings his troops up, the Tartars will have to retreat whether they want to or not."

Zhao Hu stuck to his view: if they couldn't hold on, the Tartars could hold on even less. With so many dead, he had thrown caution aside.

For no other reason than the brothers under him who had died to the last man, he would fight the Qing army to the bitter end. Otherwise, he would have no face to meet them in the afterlife!

"Tell the brothers to hold on no matter what. What we're competing with the Tartars over is who has one more breath left. Whoever has that breath lives; whoever runs short — dies for certain!"

At this point, there was nothing to do but fight to the end. Zhao Sihai reckoned he had done all he could.

If Heaven truly would not let them live and the relief force never came, then there was nothing more to say. Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to stand.

The leg wound made his leg tremble involuntarily. He was about to find Song Xianggong to discuss whether they could organize some of the women to step up, when he heard someone up ahead shout, "The Qing dogs are coming again!"

At the cry that the Qing army was coming again, the exhausted survivors of the rear camp struggled up from the ground. Though they were so tired they could barely walk, they gritted their teeth and took their posts.

Many, as they took their places on the line, unconsciously turned their heads and swept their gaze over the dense crowd of old, weak, women, and children — their eyes full of longing and resolve.

Zhao Sihai, supported by Zhao Hu, also walked over. Sure enough, the Qing army was again forming up and advancing on the great hall.

But this time was different from the previous assaults: the Qing army seemed to have thrown everything forward, holding nothing back. Even the bannermen who had fired muskets in the first two attacks had cast their firearms aside, every man now gripping a broadsword.

It seemed the Qing army was making its final throw!

Zhao Sihai narrowed his eyes, his heart pounding uncontrollably: survive this one, and we live; fail, and we die!

Seeing the stillness all around, Zhao Hu raised his blade and roared, "Damn it all — kill one and break even, kill two and profit! Today, let me and the Qing dogs go out in a blaze of glory!

Brothers, if I, Zhao Hu, go first, then every New Year and festival after this, remember to burn some spirit money for me, so I don't go short of pleasures down below!"

A middle-aged storehouse soldier in his forties, hearing Zhao Hu's words, raised his blade and shouted to the crowd, "Drink Old Lady Meng's soup, and in the next life I'll be reborn to rebel against the Tartars again!

I don't believe it, damn it — that these dog Tartars can seize the land of us Han!"

"The front-camp brothers are fighting tooth and nail to charge up the mountain. We rear-camp brothers weren't raised by stepmothers either! Get your spirits up! Let the Qing dogs — let the front-camp brothers — see that we rear-camp men, young and old, have balls too!"

"....."

Listening to the bold words of the surviving war soldiers, security corpsmen, and storehouse soldiers, Zhao Sihai's heart ached terribly. These men's words were heroic, yet they stirred grief and indignation.

Clearly, everyone understood that this was the Qing army's final throw — and their own as well.

"Brothers, fight the Qing dogs to the death!"

"Fight the Qing dogs to the death!"

"Dog Tartars! You dare block your Grandpa Ge's path — watch me chop off your heads! Brothers of the Zhenlu Camp, kill!"

Red-eyed, Ge Zheng was the first to break through the Qing line directly in front of Guifeng Pavilion. Under the terrified gazes of the Qing soldiers opposite, he charged at them, swinging his long blade. Behind him were more than two hundred sharp long spears.

At the third quarter of the mao hour, having paid half the camp in casualties, the Zhenlu Camp finally beat back the Qing blocking force before them and were the first to charge up to Guifeng Pavilion.

At the same time, Shao Jiugong's Xiongwei Camp also fought their way to the mountaintop. Under the ferocious assault of the Taiping Army's front camp, the Qing army could not hold, and their previous fighting retreat collapsed into disorderly flight.

Battalion Commander Zheng Wansan saw that the Taiping Army's attack could not be stopped. Watching more and more Taiping troops pour up the mountain while the Regional Commander still sent no relief, he abandoned the few dozen men still resisting and turned to flee.

Zheng Wansan's flight instantly shattered the Qing army's cohesion. On the other side, Lin Youxian, still trying to rally the scattered troops, could only lead his men in flight as well.

During the rout, some Qing soldiers were simply too exhausted to run and surrendered to the Taiping Army. The Taiping Army, intent on rescuing the rear camp, had no time to guard these prisoners.

Under the command of Ge Zheng and Shao Jiugong, they swept past Guifeng Pavilion and drove toward the center of Yutai Temple.

Wu Jinzhong, who had concentrated all his forces for a final assault, heard that Zheng Wansan and the others had failed to hold Guifeng Pavilion and that the main rebel force had now charged up the mountain.

Stunned by the rebels' fighting strength, he urgently dispatched Lu Yongxiang with his own guard unit to stem the rout and organize resistance.

He gave Lu Yongxiang a death order: under no circumstances could the rebels be allowed to reach the Great Hero Hall — otherwise, all their efforts would be for nothing.

When Lu Yongxiang arrived at the Thousand-Hand Hall with his troops, he ran straight into Zheng Wansan and Lin Youxian fleeing in panic. Seeing Zheng Wansan running at the very front, Lu Yongxiang said not a word.

He drew his waist saber and, under the astonished gazes of Zheng Wansan's men and Lin Youxian, cut off Zheng Wansan's head with a single stroke.

"Death to any who retreat without orders!"

After killing Zheng Wansan, Lu Yongxiang's guards cut down several more camp soldiers, shocking the remaining deserters and Lin Youxian into standing frozen.

"The Regional Commander's order: death to any who retreat without orders! All of you, get back!"

Lu Yongxiang bellowed, kicking several of the stunned camp soldiers and forcing them to turn back. Under the coercion of the guards and Lu Yongxiang, Lin Youxian had no choice but to lead these routed troops back — and they collided head-on with the oncoming Zhenlu Camp of the Taiping Army.

Already beaten and utterly without fighting spirit, dozens of the Green Standard soldiers were skewered by long spears in an instant. The rest, heedless of the guards' attempts to hold them, scattered in a single rush.

Lin Youxian, seeing the situation was beyond saving, dropped to the ground and played dead while no one was watching.

Lu Yongxiang was one of Wu Jinzhong's sworn brothers from their days in the rebel army, and his guards were all veterans of seven or eight years of war. Though they numbered only a few dozen, they did not fear the Zhenlu Camp.

Blades met at close quarters, and the two sides fought together — swords rising, spears falling, and from time to time men screaming as they fell.

The Zhenlu Camp had force-marched for days and were already spent by the time they reached Guifeng Mountain. After the bloody battle, they had paid nearly half their number in casualties to take the summit.

Now suddenly meeting a tough foe, they found it hard going. Fortunately, the Xiongwei Camp arrived in time and, relying on superior numbers, drove Lu Yongxiang's force back step by step.

Even so, the ferocious Lu Yongxiang gritted his teeth and held on, trying to buy time for the Qing troops at the Great Hero Hall.

Lu Yongxiang's ferocity stirred the equally ferocious Ge Zheng's bloodlust, and he charged at him with his long blade.

"Kill!"

Ge Zheng roared and swung his long blade. Lu Yongxiang, unwilling to show weakness, let out a great shout of his own and met him head-on without a trace of fear.

"Clang!"

The two blades clashed, and both men staggered back. Before Ge Zheng could swing again, Lu Yongxiang abandoned him and fled toward the rear of the Thousand-Hand Hall with the dozen-odd guards who remained.

Ge Zheng was startled, then looked back and burst out laughing. It was Tie Yi arriving with the Xianzhen Camp. The foremost soldiers of the Xianzhen Camp held their muskets level, the black muzzles pointed forward — anyone who saw that would run.

When Lu Yongxiang fled back to the Great Hero Hall, Wu Jinzhong knew the game was up. Although Su Xianting's bannermen had broken an opening in the Great Hero Hall, the main rebel force had already reached the Thousand-Hand Hall and could come charging over at any moment.

The rebels inside the hall no longer mattered — even if he rushed in, the main rebel force would follow right behind. To avoid total annihilation, he made an immediate decision and ordered all units to assemble and break out down the mountain.

The Qing soldiers, who had just been elated at breaking through the rebels' line, were stunned by the order. Only when they heard the rebels' shouts coming from the direction of the Thousand-Hand Hall did they understand: the rebels from below had fought their way up.

If they didn't leave now, they wouldn't be leaving at all!

Wu Jinzhong's order was for the whole army to assemble and break out together, but Su Xianting did not obey. Instead, he fled first with his bannermen toward the rear mountain. He was not fool enough to break out from the front — that little path at the rear mountain was a ready-made escape route!

When Wu Jinzhong learned that Su Xianting had led his men toward the rear mountain, he cursed furiously. That little path could only take one man at a time, up or down. Su Xianting was thinking only of saving his own skin, with no regard for whether the rest lived or died!

Once the Han Banners ran, the Green Standard soldiers, not knowing the situation, had some follow them toward the rear mountain — unaware that the rear-mountain path could not possibly get them down either.

As these uninformed camp soldiers followed the Han Banners, the other camp soldiers, even more confused about what was happening, also began running in chaos. In the end, Wu Jinzhong could only gather fewer than three hundred men.

At that point, there was nothing he could do but lead these remnants toward the Thousand-Mountain Hall, hoping to slip down the mountain while the main rebel force was still unfamiliar with the temple's terrain.

The rear-camp survivors, already resigned to death, saw the Qing army withdrawing.

The sharp-eyed among them spotted their own battle flags racing over from the direction of the Thousand-Hand Hall, and at once shouted excitedly to the anxious crowd inside the hall, "The Tartars are beaten! The Tartars are beaten!

Our relief force is here! The relief force is here!"