Chapter 440: Enter the Village Quietly

Santunying Fortress has a circumference of seven li. South of the city are over 800 barracks rooms. Within the city stand architectural complexes including the Garrison Command, the Superintendent's Prefectural Yamen, the Mobile Corps Command, the Vice Regional Commander's Office, and the Loyalty Guard Command.

Inside the city, two main streets run east-west and two run north-south, forming a "#" character grid, with the Regional Commander's Residence situated right at the center of this "#". The city also contains 72 major and minor lanes and alleys crisscrossing like a Go board, conforming to standard Ming Dynasty military fortress regulations.

For such a large fortress city, under normal circumstances, fewer than two or three thousand men wouldn't even be enough to fully man the battlements, let alone mobilize reserve forces for defense at any moment. So the five or six hundred cavalry the Manchu Qing left here were, to put it plainly, just courier soldiers meant to watch the place and keep communication lines open.

In theory, this number of troops was more than sufficient: Zunhua City at the western mouth of the Santun Camp corridor was heavily garrisoned; the three cities of Luanzhou, Qian'an, and Yongping at the eastern mouth were likewise occupied by the forces of Second Beile Amin; and Xifengkou to the north went without saying—tens of thousands of Later Jin main-force troops had just exited the pass, with quite a few soldiers still lingering on the pass itself.

Therefore, Santunying Fortress, situated at the junction of three routes, was at this moment extremely secure, with absolutely no chance of a war alarm being raised.

Unless someone had crossed over... and those who crossed over had brought troops setting out from Tianjin in the south, fighting their way through a hundred-li mountain path to arrive outside Santunying Fortress.

A monster with eight iron feet and eyes glowing red was floating silently in the air, drifting slowly toward the General Headquarters at the very center of the fortress.

The majority of the Tartar soldiers garrisoning Santun Camp lived inside the General Headquarters. The once bustling and noisy garrison city was now, save for the firelight in the General Headquarters and on the city walls, pitch-black and deathly still everywhere else—already a ghost city.

The infrared camera on the drone quickly captured the flames within the General Headquarters—seven or eight bonfires blazing on the Scout Field inside the compound.

Wood torn from the yamen buildings blazed fiercely, with pigs and sheep roasting over the bonfires. Clusters of Tartar soldiers sat around the fires drinking and eating meat; occasionally someone who had drunk too much would swing the long sleeves of his leather robe and dance a Mongol dance; now and then, drunken brawlers would grapple together, surrounded by waves of cheers and applause.

The live scene of the Tartar soldiers' blissful bonfire party was now being transmitted in real time by the camera to the terminal equipment at the rear.

Inside the tent behind the mountain, Qian Tieshan, propping his arm and rubbing the stubble on his chin with one hand, remarked with amusement, "Not bad, the Mongol dancing is authentic—same level as the Mongol yurt girls I saw back in the day."

"Don't even mention Mongol yurts. I went on a team-building trip and roasted a whole sheep, and got outright fleeced."

Beside him, Zhang Zhongqi, upon hearing the words 'Mongol yurt,' began reminiscing leisurely, his leg jiggling.

"No one will dare fleece you this time. The roast sheep is free." Qian Tieshan grinned. "The Tartars are hosting. We'll go eat tomorrow."

That night, the reconnaissance team led by Du Dewei not only recorded every sentry post on the city walls and their shift-change times but also circled the city once, surveying all suitable entry points.

After Du Dewei's team returned in the early morning hours, the several Transmigrators quickly devised a plan to take Santun Camp: a night raid.

As the first stronghold to be captured by the Transmigrators, the Battle of Santun Camp had to be executed as quickly and covertly as possible—a whole series of battles lay ahead. Once word leaked out, the Tartars in the cities to the east would inevitably heighten their vigilance or even flee outright, which would make the gains not worth the losses.

So this battle had to be a silent infiltration—enter the village quietly, with silenced guns doing the work. Moreover, in the aftermath, the Transmigrators had to use every means possible to seal off information, delaying as long as they could to buy time for subsequent operations.

Once the key focus of this battle was identified, the plan quickly took shape.

The next day, aside from continuing to closely monitor the garrison inside Santun Camp, the troops on this side remained silently gathering, resting, and reorganizing, making no moves.

Without a doubt, for Transmigrators possessing all manner of high-tech combat equipment, night fighting was the mode of warfare that maximized their power, so the Special Operations Team and the Guard Battalion were to shoulder the main burden at this stop.

As for the native soldiers, the majority of whom wielded cold weapons, their task, though also heavy, was primarily a supporting role.

Starting that evening, the temporary camp entered a pre-battle silence phase. Everyone was making final preparations. The Ming people were divided into squads within their respective units, listening attentively as their squad officers delivered pre-battle mobilization speeches and assigned combat tasks.

March 29, 1630. Night.

Tonight, the starlight was brilliant and the moonlight bright and clear—seemingly not a good day for committing crimes. But for the Special Operations Team galloping through the seventeenth century, these unfavorable factors posed no problem.

A vanguard force composed of 40 special operations team members, fully armed, set out from the Jingzhong Mountain pass at the middle of the xu hour (8 PM). After spending half an hour making a detour, they arrived under the cover of night outside the moat of Santunying Fortress's northern city wall.

Due to defensive considerations, ancient fortress cities often had no city gates on the wall facing the greatest threat. Santun Camp was just like this: the wall facing Changcheng to the north was unbroken, with gates only on the east, south, and west sides of the fortress.

The reason the vanguard force detoured to this wall was that the number of sentries here was the smallest.

Across the entire battlements of Santun Camp, there were only eight watchmen in total. For cavalry ready to withdraw at any moment while holding an empty city, this number could already be considered quite conscientious.

According to the previous night's reconnaissance, in the southeast and southwest corner towers of the fortress, there were two watchmen each. These four watchmen were responsible for observing the east and west roads, where enemy activity was most likely to appear.

In the relatively safe northwest and northeast corner towers, there was only one person on duty each. Additionally, there were two roving sentries, each responsible for patrolling half of the city wall.

The vanguard force chose this moment to launch the attack because these sentries had just changed shifts, and no one else would come up onto the city wall until the next morning.

When the team had detoured to about a hundred meters outside the northern city wall, they halted and first began deploying drones.

Since the north side faced Changcheng, this wall would be the first thing faced if enemy cavalry broke through the pass, so the field of fire below the wall was clear, with no cover. This required the raiders to launch drones in advance to monitor the movements of the sentries in the two corner towers at all times.

Once the two drones were airborne, they quickly detected human figures radiating infrared light inside the corner towers.

Seeing that both figures were in relaxed postures, either sitting or lying down, Du Dewei, leading the operation today, immediately waved his hand and began sprinting forward with three subordinates who had long been ready.

Under the bright moonlight, the four men bent low, muffled their footsteps as much as possible, and swiftly dashed across the hundred-meter danger zone to reach the moat's edge.

The moat was not wide. Although it was three zhang deep, its width was only seven chi. The four men, deliberately dressed in simple clothing, slipped into the moat without a sound and reached the opposite bank in seconds.

The opposite bank was right at the foot of the city wall, with only a narrow strip of ledge to stand on.

But this bit of space was enough. After crossing the moat, Du Dewei first used his throat mic to communicate with the rear. After receiving a report that everything was normal, two team members took rope-launching guns from their backs, aimed at the top of the wall, and pulled the triggers.

With two soft "thwump" sounds, the umbrella-shaped rivets shot out and embedded themselves into the green bricks of the battlement.

Next came the climb. A ten-meter-high city wall posed no difficulty whatsoever for the well-trained special operations team members, and the four quickly ascended the ropes onto the battlement.

The spot where Du Dewei and his men now stood had been deliberately chosen, right at the center of the northern wall. After exchanging hand signals, the four drew their pistols, split into two pairs, and, crouching low, crept toward the watchtowers at either end of the wall.

Each side of Santun Camp's city wall was over 800 meters long. Du Dewei, bent low, ran straight ahead for 400 meters before he saw the corner tower.

At this point, he pushed the monocular night vision device he wore on his head up onto his forehead: torches were planted both inside and outside the corner tower, so the night vision device was no longer needed. Then, after hearing the enemy sentry's position reported in his earpiece, Du Dewei straightened up the next moment, stepped forward, and pushed open the corner tower's wooden door.

The Mongol sentry, wearing a leather robe and sitting on a pile of straw while noisily chewing half a leg of lamb, gaped in astonishment when he saw a monster enter the door.

In the sentry's mind, the entire purpose of his night shift was to watch for the glow of torches and the sound of hoofbeats on the mountain path to the north—signs that something had gone wrong at those passes on Changcheng.

Yet he would never have imagined, even if beaten to death, that someone could have breached the battlement. He had originally thought it was the roving sentry pushing open the door.

The Mongol had no chance to learn the truth. After entering, Du Dewei raised his pistol and fired without a word. The P229 pistol, fitted with a silencer, did not make much noise inside the corner tower.

After killing the sentry, the two men swiftly darted into the corner tower and pulled the door shut. Not long after, the earpiece transmitted the "clear" report from the other team. The success of both teams meant there were no more sentries on the northern city wall.

Immediately after, the 40 team members below the wall also reached the moat's edge. Now that the threat from the battlements was gone, the team members naturally had no reason to soak their clothes and equipment again for a moat just over two meters wide, so simple crossing planks were quickly set up here.

After the first few men crossed the moat, they ascended the steel cables onto the battlement, then threw down several rope ladders, and soon all the team members climbed up one after another.

During this process, the four team members concealed in the two corner towers continuously monitored the two southern walls, waiting for the roving sentries to arrive.

The patrol times of the two roving sentries were not synchronized, but roughly, they came by once every hour. This time, Du Dewei hit the jackpot first. Shortly after the team members below the wall had just climbed onto the battlement, a roving sentry came sauntering along the dark city wall.

After receiving a reminder from the drone, the men in the corner tower made their preparations.

The next moment, the wooden door was pulled open again, and a Banner trooper wearing leather armor and sporting a pigtail walked in.

Inside the dim corner tower, the Mongol in the leather robe was lying on his side in the pile of straw, seemingly asleep and making no sound.

"Wulihan, you stupid pig, how dare you..."

The Tartar soldier who entered had a face full of rage. Just as he bellowed at the Mongol in Manchu, he suddenly froze. His advancing footsteps halted abruptly, and one hand reached for his waist—not only were two of the torches in the corner tower extinguished, but there was also a smell of blood. The Tartar soldier, who had killed too many people, sensed something was wrong the moment he caught the scent.

Yet he was still too late: the two pistols extending from the corner opened fire at the same moment, and the Tartar Soldier was blasted to the ground before his saber was even half-drawn.