Chapter 434: Quenching

The blue-coated Tartar let go — the arrow flew like a shooting star, arcing far into the distance, tracing a long rainbow before vanishing from sight. At the same moment, the Tartar toppled backward, a fountain of blood gushing from his thigh.

In other words, that arrow just now — the Tartar had actually loosed it while falling backward.

Only then did the crack of gunfire from the rear finally reach Mei Fuxi's ears.

In truth, the shot had rung out before this moment, but Mei Fuxi, in a state of despair and panic, had been seeing everything before him in black-and-white slow motion — which threw his hearing into chaos.

With a boom, the world snapped back, and everything in Mei Fuxi's eyes returned to normal.

Realizing that an arrow had not pierced his heart, Young Master Mei, his face deathly pale and his forehead drenched in cold sweat, lay across his horse's back and gulped several deep breaths — then suddenly turned his head and began retching, tears and snot streaming down.

The massive dose of adrenaline secreted in that life-or-death instant was now running riot inside the rookie's body; the young man could not control the stress reaction that came in the aftermath.

Clip-clop — the sound of hooves rang out. Chen Erye, holding his assault rifle in one hand, slowly rode his horse up diagonally from behind to the recruit's side.

After raising his rifle once more to aim at the Tartar ahead, Erye shook his head and lowered it again — it seemed the blue-coated Tartar had already degenerated from a king to a bronze, not worth wasting another imported bullet on.

At this moment, the blue-coated Tartar's face was still filled with ferocity. Utterly silent despite his wound, he was pressing one hand against his gushing thigh while bracing the other against the ground, inching across the snow in an attempt to crawl behind the large boulder beside him.

Just then, the clip-clop of hooves sounded again from behind.

That felt-hat Mongol who had fought two at once earlier had not, after all, transcended. After being slashed in the double-team, the Mongol's wound stretched from his chest all the way to his ribs, and shreds of internal organs were now spilling out of the gash with every jolt of his horse.

So the two victorious team members, like Hollywood protagonists, did not even glance at the enemy who had brushed past them as they rode by, heading straight this way instead.

A coiled horsewhip reached out beside Mei Fuxi's head and slapped him humiliatingly across the face. "Young Master, done throwing up yet?"

The Young Master, still bent over retching, couldn't help but heave twice more at the sound. Then, after wiping his face haphazardly with his hand, he finally raised his head.

And then Mei Fuxi saw Chen Erye's mocking expression and the grinning team member.

"Tsk, tsk." Stroking his chin, Erye let out a string of admiring clicks. "Just look at that face of yours, Young Master. Head back to Tianjin and hire yourself out as a beggar chief — that'd be about right."

Mei Fuxi knew his face was smeared with snot and that he must look utterly wretched. On top of that, both of his subordinates had witnessed it — at this moment, he was so ashamed he wanted to die.

Smack — Chen Erye turned hostile in an instant and lashed his horsewhip across Young Master Mei's thigh. "Gun in your hand and you still end up looking like this sorry mess — truly a waste of space! Get over there and hack that Tartar down. Bring me his head!"

Startled, Young Master Mei pulled his reins and backed up two steps. After glaring at Chen Huoding with a mix of fury, shame, and helplessness, the Young Master gritted his teeth, a thick, vicious ruthlessness flooding into his eyes. Changlang — he drew his saber, turned his horse, and headed straight for the Tartar.

In that brief span of time, the blue-coated Tartar had already ducked behind the large boulder and completed a series of actions: he tore open his front-buttoned padded jacket, reached inside, yanked out a silk lining, and crudely bound the wound on his leg.

Silk could catch an arrowhead, so in this era, whether Ming Army or Qing soldiers, anyone with the means wore a silk undershirt against their skin.

Just as he finished tying off the wound, the Tartar heard hoofbeats approaching from behind. Forcing himself upright against the boulder despite the searing pain, the Tartar likewise drew the saber at his waist.

The next moment, from the high ground, Mei Fuxi hacked down with a ferocious slash.

Had he been in good health, against a telegraphed, flawed chop like Mei Fuxi's, this battle-hardened blue-coated Tartar — who had charged into formations in full armor many times — was confident he could have cut the attacker off his horse in a single exchange.

But he was now gravely wounded — a 7.62mm bullet was no joke. The muscle in the Tartar's thigh was torn, his artery had been ruptured, and massive blood loss had left his whole body weak, his brain starved of oxygen, his vision going dark. He simply lacked the strength and agility to execute any tactical maneuver.

So after barely parrying this blow, the Tartar couldn't help but stagger back two steps, bracing himself against the boulder. With that single slash, the great gash on his leg split open again, and blood came surging out once more.

"Damn it — got careless." The blue-coated Tartar, realizing he was going to die here today, leaned against the gray rock, gasping for breath, and thought to himself.

Yes — ever since entering the pass, the Eight Banners Army had been invincible, routing the Ming Army's most elite forces with ease. The entire army had even spent several months leisurely encamped right beneath the Ming State Imperial City, plundering countless riches and captives.

So now, during the recent withdrawal, the insufferably arrogant Eight Banners troops had not taken the Ming forces on their rearward path seriously at all. That was why, when the three men had entered the mountains to scout today, they had done so perfunctorily — not even bothering to wear a single piece of leather armor.

The Tartar soldier's summary of lessons learned ended right there. Whether wearing leather armor could have stopped his opponent's devastating fire lance — he had no time left to consider. Mei Fuxi, having wheeled his horse around, hacked down with another ferocious slash.

After this blow, the Tartar, blood now gushing from his leg, had his saber outright knocked from his grasp by Mei Fuxi.

The next moment, the Young Master reined in his horse, swung a leg over and dismounted, twirled his blade in a flourish, and with a wild roar charged forward in great strides. He aimed at the blue-coated Tartar and hacked down seven savage blows, one after another, straight at his head and face.

As expected of an Eight Banners elite... anyone sent out as a scout was bound to be a crack soldier. Even in this state, his blood likely all but drained, the blue-coated Tartar still managed to draw his short knife and fend off several strikes by sheer force of will.

Yet Young Master Mei ultimately landed the fourth slash on his opponent's neck.

Seeing Mei Fuxi emerge from behind the boulder — eyes bloodshot, long sword dripping, a severed head in his hand — Chen Huoding could not help but nod slightly. The Commander often spoke of the need to "quench" new recruits; it seemed another one had been forged today.

After a hard fight, Chen Huoding quickly took over issuing orders in place of Young Master Mei, who was still in a state of shock. He sent one man back to summon the others, while the remaining few hurriedly dragged the three corpses aside, rounded up the two captured horses, and withdrew to the valley mouth.

Although Chen Huoding had communications equipment and could know at any time whether enemy reinforcements were coming, he still followed protocol — immediately pulling his troops together and assuming a defensive posture ready for a rapid retreat. After all, these auxiliary soldiers would not always have someone telling them the battlefield situation in real time, so everything had to be drilled according to the worst-case scenario.

Once the three men and five horses had withdrawn to the valley mouth where they had entered, Chen Huoding finally switched on the radio and reported the situation. He then received real-time intelligence: for the time being, no new Tartars had entered the mountain pass opposite them.

Relieved, Chen Huoding pulled a flat silver hip flask from inside his coat and tossed it to Young Master Mei, who was standing dazed to one side. "Hold onto that head. We'll report your merit when we get back."

After waiting roughly forty minutes like this, the six men left behind with the detachment arrived, bringing all the spare horses.

With the extra manpower, everything became much easier.

Men were immediately sent up both sides of the valley to begin observing the paths ahead and behind with binoculars, and the three Tartar corpses were hauled back as well.

A thorough search turned up exactly what they expected: "White Armored Soldiers!"

An old guardsman weighed the bone tally fished from the blue-coated Tartar's waist and exclaimed in admiration, "The squad leader's got skill — he actually took a White Armored Soldier's head!"

White Armored Soldiers were also called Bayara. When Nurhaci launched his campaign in the eighth year of the Mandate, he drew one hundred armored men from each Niru — ten of them White Armored Soldiers, forty Red Armored Soldiers. The White Armor were the elite among elites.

White Armored Soldiers were equipped with the finest gear — typically three layers of armor: chain mail underneath, padded armor in the middle, and iron plate on the outside. They were heavy-armor shock troops specialized in breaking enemy formations.

White Armored Soldiers underwent extraordinarily intense military training at all times, so their combat skills were refined and masterful. Under normal circumstances, three rookies like Mei Fuxi would absolutely be no match for a single White Armor.

In peacetime, White Armored Soldiers served as bodyguards to the Emperor and the various Beile. On the march, they handled forward reconnaissance. In pitched battle, they were responsible for shattering enemy lines — they were the core fighting strength of the Eight Banners.

Yet human strength has its limits. No matter how profound the White Armored Soldier's mastery of cold weapons, when faced with troops trained by an industrial society, he still ended up having his head hacked off by a rookie in the most humiliating fashion... His superb martial skill was rendered utterly useless in the face of a bullet.

Young Master Mei, who had drunk Chen Erye's treasured white wine and recovered his composure by now, simply smiled sheepishly when he heard someone praising him, and let it go at that.

He knew his own affairs best. Although the two team members had not revealed what really happened back there, the fact remained that his poor marksmanship had forced his teammates into a melee — a blame he could not shake off.

As for the White Armored Soldier, that went without saying — the credit would certainly go to Chen Erye, who had fired the shot. Otherwise, Young Master Mei would already be a corpse by now.

Aside from the White Armored Soldier, the two felt-hat Tartars were both men from the Mongol Eight Banners.

On the three Tartars, the team members not only found identity documents but also some gold and silver jewelry wrapped in silk cloth — all of it stained with blood, undoubtedly looted from Ming corpses.

After reporting the identities of the three bodies to the Command Post via radio, Chen Huoding received his orders: bring them all back to Tianjin.

There was a reason for this. Since this was the Flying Tiger Battalion's first live field exercise, bringing back a few intact Tartar corpses would be far more shocking than just bringing back heads. The Flying Tiger Battalion's reputation in Tianjin would skyrocket, and General Cao's work on the ground there would proceed much more smoothly.

Fortunately, the Command Post did not issue reckless orders. After the detachment's days out here, the supplies on several of the spare horses had already been used up — perfect for carrying corpses instead. Besides, they had just captured two Mongol horses, so transport capacity was ample.

So the team members wrapped the three corpses in several pieces of tarpaulin and lashed them onto the horses' backs.

Next came continuing the ambush. All traces of combat inside the valley were cleared away — including that dead horse, which was also hauled to the rear to be boiled for meat.

Since three scouts entered the mountain and never returned, by common sense, at some point after today — the highest probability being tomorrow or the day after — the Eight Banners troops in the Corridor will be certain to send someone to investigate.

Therefore, the detachment needs to set an ambush in the valley now. If the enemy comes with few men, they can simply continue to devour them.

If the enemy comes with many... the 90 members of the Grade A team to which this detachment belongs are already, under the radio's direction, slowly gathering toward this location.