Chapter 452: Fellow Travelers

The Tartar soldiers' corpses stretched from the long street to the Drum Tower — a scene of utter carnage everywhere, blood pooling in every spot, a clear testament to the brutality of the battle just fought.

However, none of that mattered one bit.

From Aisin Gioro Amin on down, every last noble of the Bordered Blue Banner now had their hands bound behind their backs, taken as prisoners.

The battle to seize Yongping City had ended ten minutes ago.

Though sporadic gunfire still rang out in the city from time to time, that was mainly scattered Flying Tiger Battalion troops shooting at Later Jin stragglers and Ming ruffians who had taken advantage of the chaos to come out and loot. Today's combat mission was indeed over, counting from the moment Amin and his group were captured.

At that time, Amin's group had been holding out on the top floor of the Drum Tower, relying on the narrow staircase in a position easy to defend but hard to assault. The Transmigrators neither wanted to spend lives on a frontal assault, nor did they want to set the tower on fire... what if they burned the Beile to a crisp? In the end, left with no choice, someone simply tossed a tear gas canister up there.

This canister was genuine American-made goods, a standard-issue sharp tool capitalists use to deal with unruly commoners, so its effect was extremely ferocious.

The canister was still spinning in midair when it began spewing thick white smoke. This effect was doubled indoors. A bunch of Later Jin country bumpkins stubbornly holding out had never seen this kind of freedom iron fist, so they were instantly hit. In less than two minutes, all of them collapsed choking and suffocating.

Then Special Operations Team members wearing gas masks went upstairs and dragged the Beile down.

They dumped him on the ground in front of the Drum Tower to recover for a while, then splashed some clean water on his face. Amid violent coughing, the Beile regained consciousness.

After binding the hands of all the prisoners, Amin was singled out, shoved and jostled along a stretch of road, and brought before Qian Tieshan and the others. Then someone kicked the Beile in the back of the knee, forcing him to kneel.

Seeing the Beile arrive, Qian Tieshan was very pleased. Slapping the side of his thigh with one hand, he said in a cheerful tone, "Great Beile, I've long heard of your esteemed name. Today we finally meet."

Amin naturally understood Chinese. In fact, all Later Jin nobles knew Chinese, just as all upper-class Japanese could write Chinese characters. Back when Nurhaci was rising to prominence, he was nothing more than a bootlicking henchman under Liao Commander Li Chengliang. If he didn't know Chinese, how could he have bootlicked?

Hearing this, Amin immediately raised his head, struggled to open his red, swollen, tear-streaming eyes, and asked in a hoarse voice, "Just who exactly are you people?"

The Beile's astonishment was understandable — he had just detected a hint of the Liaodong official dialect in Qian Tieshan's accent, which was very strange.

"Our origins? Well, that's a long story. Beile, you only need to know that we are Han people, Ming troops come from the south. That's enough."

"Ming troops? If all Ming troops were like you, then my Great Jin would have had no path to survival long ago!"

"Heh heh, we arrived a bit late, and let you Banner lords run rampant for a few years." Qian Tieshan raised a single finger. "After today, Beile, please wait patiently below the springs. You can be certain to see old friends and kin come flocking one after another. It won't be long — I guarantee it!"

Hearing this, Amin said fiercely, "Since you are Ming troops, then you cannot kill me!"

"Oh?" Qian Tieshan exchanged a glance with the two intelligence agents beside him, then asked with a smile, "Why can't I kill you?"

"I am a meritorious noble of the Great Jin, one of the Four Great Beile who control the court. Even your Emperor, upon seeing me, would offer a seat and tea. Since you are a Ming Regional Commander, you should know the rules. For today's matter, send men swiftly to report to your Emperor, and have this Beile escorted to Beijing at once."

Qian Tieshan burst out laughing at this. "Beile, you really do know that bunch of Ming sovereign and ministers well, don't you? Not bad, not bad — you've even got the routine all planned out. I've got to give you a word: 'Respect.'"

Qian Tieshan raised his thumb, giving the Beile a thumbs-up. Then immediately, he shook his head. "A pity, Great Beile. There's one thing you don't know... actually, we're in the same trade — we're all rebels. None of us care about the Emperor."

With that, Qian Tieshan drew the M9 pistol from his waist in one motion. Thud! One clean shot drilled into Amin's left chest, executing this thoroughly evil, utterly incredulous Tartar chief on the spot at his feet.

Looking across history, whenever a dynasty reaches its collapse, a strange phenomenon always appears — concentrating all power to court death in a grand fashion.

Whether Han, Tang, Ming, or Qing, it's always the same. As if under a curse, emperors, kings, generals, and ministers, faced with the enormous accumulated social contradictions, completely lose their judgment, all turning brainless, turning even good deeds into disasters by sheer force.

Therefore, the Transmigrators would never send a live Beile to Beijing.

Once the Beile was sent, some opportunist would inevitably pop up with a "pacify Liao in three years" scheme, demanding the Beile be sent back so everyone could be good neighbors and friends.

And then Comrade Chongzhen, who can never make up his mind, would hesitate again, first keeping the Beile well-fed and well-housed — wouldn't the Transmigrators die of rage?

This kind of disgusting affair was very likely to happen. Given the sludge-like political ecosystem of the Chongzhen court, trust between sovereign and ministers was already nonexistent. No strange occurrence would be surprising.

In fact, historically, Chongzhen did intend to negotiate peace with the Later Jin. It's just that this emperor's craft was lacking — he wanted peace, but also wanted the civil officials to take the blame. As a result, within a civil official system that had a poor relationship with him, not a single scapegoat stepped forward to propose this plan for the Emperor — they were all waiting to watch the Emperor make a fool of himself.

One must realize, even Zhao Gou had Qin Hui step up to shoulder all the blame. From a management perspective, Emperor Zhao Gou at least achieved a normal standard in internal coordination. Whether his decisions were right or wrong, even when killing Yue Fei, there were always subordinates who stepped up to do the boss's dirty work.

And Chongzhen couldn't even manage that.

This kind of mutual sabotage with court ministers happened once more before Li Zicheng entered the city: the Emperor wanted to flee to Nanjing, but was forcibly left hanging in midair by the civil officials using a pile of grand principles like "ancestral institutions" and "the sovereign guards the gate of the realm." In the end, the Emperor failed to flee and had to hang himself in midair instead.

So, never underestimate the lower limits of a dying court... where did Okamura Yasuji go to work after Japan's defeat? This kind of courting-death behavior that utterly loses the people's hearts is, like the killing of Mao Wenlong, a clear omen of national ruin.

In short, the Transmigrators would definitely not give Chongzhen and his ministers a chance to showcase the lower limits of their brainlessness. The merit from this trip to kill Tartars was already great enough, long since overflowing. Sending a live Amin to Beijing wouldn't increase the marginal benefit. Could it be that the Emperor would take Cao Zhongchen by the hand and say, "I hereby enfeoff you as the One-Word Shoulder-to-Shoulder King? And A'Jiu shall be your wife?"

After cleanly and efficiently finishing off Amin with one shot, Qian Tieshan made a forceful downward chopping gesture toward a spot not far away.

The Special Operations Team members who received the order immediately raised their guns, aimed at the backs of the prisoners kneeling before them, and pulled their triggers one after another.

After this volley of gunfire rang out, Qian Tieshan, Du Dewei, and Zhang Zhongqi, Yao Jianshe, Xue Haiyuan, and the others who had accompanied the troops all exchanged high-fives, their faces brimming with smiles.

Everyone had traveled to the frozen, snowy north, climbing through ice and lying in snow for several months. Now they finally had a phased victory and had obtained a weighty trophy — this hardship had not been in vain.

There would still be much to keep them busy going forward. The end of today's battle was only halfway through a long march of ten thousand li; many matters remained to be dealt with afterward.

The Transmigrators first moved the Command Post to the Prefectural Yamen.

The officials and clerks in the Prefectural Yamen had long since fled. Once they occupied the Yamen, it was time for Zhang Zhongqi, the commander of the Flying Tiger Battalion, to step forward.

Soon, Knights carrying loudspeakers broadcast noise throughout the city: the troops had recovered Yongping; all city officials, clerks, sub-official functionaries, and yamen runners at every level were ordered to report to the Prefectural Yamen for duty.

Yongping was a prefectural seat, with various government offices of all sorts. Very quickly, a large crowd of officials and clerks came running to report in.

These people had previously been hiding in their homes, barring their doors and trembling all over, terrified of being caught in the crossfire of military disaster. Later, upon hearing the loudspeaker, they hurriedly sent servants to climb the walls and check the situation. Finally discovering that the victors were indeed their own people, each one was overjoyed and rushed to the Prefectural Yamen to report.

When Yongping was originally breached, Prefect Zhang Fengqi had hanged himself in the rear hall of the Prefectural Yamen, and Deputy Military Defense Circuit Intendant Zheng Guochang had hanged himself on the city wall. The troops and horses of Yongping City had surrendered under the leadership of the defending general Li Jichun.

Life after surrender was naturally not very comfortable.

During the time the Tartar soldiers were garrisoned in the city, they raped, pillaged, and wantonly plundered, causing a mass exodus of the city's population and bringing social activity to a near standstill.

Now, discovering that the court's troops had fought their way back... although these troops wore strange green jackets, they were still their own people. So upon seeing their own kind, this bunch of officials and clerks actually squeezed out a few tears and poured out a round of grievances.

Sitting behind the Prefect's official desk, the temporarily presiding "Nan'ao Guerilla Commander Lord Zhang Zhongqi," seeing the floor full of kneeling figures, naturally offered words of encouragement — after all, he would still need them to organize manpower for the work ahead.

After the encouragement, Lord Zhang began assigning tasks. Chopping off heads, pickling heads, burying corpses, washing the streets, and sending men to fish Tartars out of the moat — there was much to do.

Once the assignments were finished, the clerks happily went off to organize manpower.

These people had actually come with uneasy hearts, since they were, after all, considered surrenderers. In these chaotic times of war, if the troops beheaded them, they'd be beheaded, and that would be that.

Now the troops had set their minds at ease and assigned everyone work, which meant they were still regarded as Ming officials. This chapter was thus considered closed.

Moreover, this Lord Zhang was also very generous. Not only did he agree to cook horse meat for dinner, he also promised that everything found on the Tartars' bodies would be used as payment for the laborers.

With this, the clerks were brimming with motivation.

They not only organized the people from their respective wards and neighborhoods, but also dispatched men outside the city to spread the word in all directions, telling those who had fled to the surrounding countryside: the troops had recovered Yongping!

Due to the various high-powered firearms, at least two to three hundred horses had died in the city during this battle.

So that evening, many bonfires were lit throughout Yongping City. Nearly the entire populace was joyfully cooking horse meat and eating the grain the Tartars had looted from their hands.

At the same time, an endless stream of people went to the entrance of the Prefectural Yamen to kowtow to Regional Commander Cao, shouting "Lord Cao, Duke and Marquis for Ten Thousand Generations!"

Outside the Prefectural Yamen was a chaotic din, filled with the festive atmosphere of having survived a calamity. Yet inside the yamen, upon the Prefect's great hall, the mood at this moment was extremely grave.

Under the bright kerosene lamp, the several Transmigrators sitting in the great hall looked at a middle-aged man kneeling in the center of the hall, and one by one, their brows furrowed.

Yongping Assistant Regional Commander Li Jichun.