Chapter 192: The Arrow Is on the String — It Must Fly (Never Mind, No Day Off Haha)

Countless banners snapped and rippled in the wind, scattered loosely for over ten li along the shores of Jining Lake.

Compared with Ligdan Khan's encampment, the allied camp of the Mongol Right Wing tribes looked somewhat disorganized and chaotic.

Among them stood two great tents of khan rank, and several dozen more belonging to taijis.

If Ligdan Khan's scouts had crept here, even finding the tent of the alliance's nominal leader — the Tumed Prince of Shunyi, Boshetu — would likely have taken them half the day.

Inside Boshetu's khan tent, the atmosphere was so oppressive one could scarcely breathe.

The Tumed Prince of Shunyi, Boshetu, and Taiji Oboyan, together with the Kharchin Khan Ahai and Taiji Boyan Huang, had gathered to discuss the progress of reinforcements.

Boshetu rubbed his throbbing temples, feeling as if his head would split.

"What exactly is the situation in the south?!"

The first to break the silence was the Kharchin Khan Ahai; his voice was clipped and urgent.

The Kharchin tribe had long been on bad terms with the Chahar.

If they lost at Jining Lake, the Tumed tribes could still retreat to Qingcheng, but his Kharchin would have to face Ligdan Khan's blade alone.

For this reason, he was even more anxious about this battle than the local Tumed.

Boshetu, his eyelids swollen, did not answer but merely cast his gaze toward Taiji Oboyan seated below him.

Taiji Oboyan understood at once and spoke in a grave tone.

"A few days ago, I took a thousand horses to the Desheng Fort frontier trade market and met that Ming official surnamed Zhang."

He paused, as if gathering his words.

"When we talked, it was the same old story — this is forbidden, that is forbidden."

"However…" Oboyan shifted his tone, "I met privately with a merchant I know well, and things were indeed somewhat looser than usual."

"That merchant secretly sold us a dozen or so suits of armor and several thousand arrows. They all looked to be standard Ming army issue — very fine quality."

The Kharchin Khan Ahai frowned and sighed:

"A dozen or so? That's far too few… What use are a dozen suits of armor?"

He pressed on: "If they won't give us armor, then what about iron woks? How many iron woks did you get? Guang woks or Lu woks?"

Guang woks were iron woks from Guangdong, especially those from Foshan; ten jin of such a wok could yield five jin of wrought iron.

Lu woks were woks from Henan; from ten jin, only three jin could be smelted out.

Oboyan shook his head wearily.

"We only got two hundred — a mix of Guang woks and Lu woks."

"We haven't bought much of that stuff before, so the Han merchants didn't have much stock on hand."

"They said they could go and procure them from various places, but we'd have to pay five times the price, put down a thirty percent deposit, and the goods wouldn't arrive for a month."

"Agreed! Agree to all of it!"

Boshetu ground his teeth, practically forcing the words through clenched jaws.

"Tell them to bring the goods as fast as possible! And for the rest, buy more silks and satins. Forget cloth and such — silk can at least stop an arrow."

"Yes."

Oboyan nodded, rose and walked to the tent entrance, gave a few low orders to a servant, then strode quickly back.

Khan Ahai's questions came one after another: "And what of troops? Are the Ming willing to send troops to help us or not?"

This was the crux of the matter.

Oboyan let out a heavy sigh.

"That official surnamed Zhang spoke in riddles, never giving a straight answer."

"All he said, vaguely, was that they had already sent someone to warn Ligdan Khan."

"So there's no intention of sending troops?" Khan Ahai pressed.

Oboyan shook his head, his face full of helplessness. "The moment I pressed further, that official picked up his shabby teacup and drank, and wouldn't open his mouth again."

"Absolutely useless!" Taiji Boyan Huang, sitting to the side, could not help but curse aloud.

"What tribe would choose to start a war in the dead of winter! After a winter campaign, I fear more horses would die of exhaustion than in battle!"

"If Ligdan Khan hadn't stockpiled hay and supplies in advance, how could he have come? That bastard clearly prepared long ago!"

"A warning! What damn use is a warning!"

Inside the tent, the faint hope that had just kindled was instantly snuffed out again.

Boshetu sighed, unconsciously rubbing his fingers together, and murmured:

"If only Wang Nayan were still here…"

That single sentence stirred everyone's melancholy, and for a moment the tent was filled with nothing but sigh after sigh.

Wang Xiangqian had served as governor in Xuanfu and the Ji Garrison, dealing with the various Mongol tribes for many years.

Whenever he had leisure, he would summon the great and small tribal chieftains, feast them with wine and cattle and sheep, and amuse himself with archery contests.

He applied both kindness and authority, adept at both the hard and the soft — a good official who could make decisions.

Though the Mongol tribes feared his prestige, they also appreciated his fairness.

But this official surnamed Zhang now would not even speak plainly.

After a moment of silence, Oboyan seemed to recall something and spoke again, somewhat hesitantly.

"Right, a Han merchant I know well mentioned to me that a general surnamed Ma has come from the east — seems to be that same Ma, the former Mobile Corps Commander."

"He said he brought a large body of troops and is encamped right beside Datong."

"That day, watching from a distance, the column of marching horses took a very long time to pass — a truly imposing sight."

"Come from the east?" Khan Ahai frowned. "What is his name?"

Boshetu's murky eyes lit up, and he interjected: "A Mobile Corps Commander surnamed Ma… Could it be Ma Shilong? He used to be here among us, and later I heard he was promoted and went east."

"Ma Shilong?!"

Khan A'hai and Buyan Taiji cried out almost at the same instant; they exchanged a glance, their faces filled with utter disbelief.

Boshetu and Oboyan watched them, puzzled.

Buyan Taiji explained, "You don't know this General Ma! When he came to our eastern side, he was first at the Ji Garrison, then later went to Liaodong and became Regional Commander, and was enfeoffed as Commissioner-in-Chief!"

"Later, I heard he lost a battle, and was dismissed by that previous Emperor. Now he's here again — could it be he's been restored to office?"

"Does this mean this new Emperor intends to use troops here?"

Khan A'hai abruptly stood up, pacing back and forth, his eyes gleaming.

"If it's him! I think there's hope! Otherwise why would he suddenly bring a troop of soldiers here?"

Oboyan hesitated a moment, then still could not resist pouring a bucket of cold water on the idea:

"It could also just be troop redeployment as a precaution. After all, we've gathered our forces at Jining Lake; how would they know whether we mean to fight Ligdan Khan or to enter the passes together."

"When it comes down to it, the Ming still guard against us."

"No matter all that!" Khan A'hai swept his hand grandly. "Send someone to contact him at once! Make things clear — who knows, he might just send troops?!"

Boshetu nodded, and turned to his son Omubu, who stood waiting at one side, and said:

"Pick the fastest horses right now and make a trip to Desheng Fort! Find a way to get someone to announce you, and ask Mobile Corps Commander Ma — no, Commissioner-in-Chief Ma — what his plan is on this side!"

He paused, and his tone grew heavier.

"So long as he is willing to send troops — horses, furs, gold — everything can be discussed!"

"Even if he wants heads, we on this side can give them all to him!"

"Yes!" Omubu answered and accepted the order.

He had just turned and taken a few steps when Boshetu called him back.

"Wait! Also pick a hundred of the finest large horses from the tribe and take them along! Say they are a gift from us for Commissioner-in-Chief Ma's restoration to office!"

"Understood!"

Omubu hesitated no longer; he lifted the heavy tent flap, and his figure swiftly vanished into the wind.

The name Ma Shilong was like a shot of stimulant, instantly lightening the oppressive mood inside the tent considerably.

But everyone knew that this was, after all, only a possible hope.

Since gathering their forces at Jining Lake, the Right Wing allied troops had mustered only thirty to forty thousand riders in total.

These days, in small-scale skirmishes in the field against Ligdan Khan's vanguard, they had almost always lost more than they won.

One after another, the small tribes that had attached themselves to them had either been wiped out or had fled far away.

Watching the situation worsen day by day, they could only try every method they could think of, seeking to increase their odds of victory by even the slightest fraction.

The Great Ming to the south was, naturally, the most critical piece.

But aside from the Great Ming, they still had a few other options.

After the brief excitement passed, the smile on Boshetu's face slowly faded, and he began pressing for news of the progress on the Kharchin tribe's side:

"What of the Jurchen side?"

Khan A'hai shook his head, his expression turning grave once more.

"Don't count on it for now. Although I've sent men to deliver letters, from here to Liaodong is several thousand li. And in between lies the Chahar tribe's territory."

"Even the best horses would need to run from one full moon to the next. By the time we get a reply, it will likely be the full moon of next month."

"Not to mention that winter is drawing near; they may not necessarily be willing to send troops."

"Don't count on the Jurchen. At the very least, they cannot send troops this year. Even if they do, it will have to wait until next year."

Boshetu fixed his eyes on Khan A'hai and pressed further: "What of the Yongshao tribe? Are they willing to send troops?"

"Hmph," Khan A'hai gave a cold laugh. "They say they suffered a disaster this autumn, their horses haven't fattened, and they plan to help us next year. I think they want to wait until we and Ligdan Khan have fought a round first, then see which way the wind blows."

He turned the question around: "What of Erinchin Jinong of the Ordos side?"

Boshetu shook his head with a rueful laugh, his smile full of bitterness: "The reason is much the same as on your side."

Inside the tent, a deathly silence fell once more.

Hope had come quickly, and left just as fast.

The weight of reality, like a great mountain, pressed down once again upon everyone's heart.

Just at that moment, a sudden commotion arose outside the tent.

The heavy tent flap was violently shoved open from outside, and a tribal chieftain covered in blood and grime rushed in, throwing himself at Boshetu's feet.

"Great Khan! My Boshetu Great Khan!"

The chieftain wailed at the top of his lungs.

"My tribe… my tribe has been overrun by Ligdan Khan's vanguard! Over three hundred tents — in a single night — all gone!"

The faces of everyone in the tent changed drastically.

Before Boshetu could react, a gust of cold wind, carrying sand and dust, poured in through the opening.

Sunang Taiji strode in, a cold sneer on his face.

Behind him followed over a dozen chieftains of small and medium tribes, each face a mixture of fear and fury.

They blocked the tent entrance so tightly that not a drop of water could pass through; their gazes, one after another, cut into Boshetu like knives.

"Boshetu."

Sunang Taiji did not look at the chieftain on the ground, only stared at the pale-faced Boshetu.

"Have you seen it now? This is the result of your order to 'wait.'"

He swept his gaze around the tent, passing over the utterly impassive faces of Khan A'hai and Buyan Taiji, and finally settled back on Boshetu.

"Today it's him. Who will it be tomorrow? Me? Or him?"

Sunang Taiji jabbed a careless finger at one of the chieftains in the crowd.

"Or is it that you, the Prince of Shunyi sitting high above us all, plan to wait until the blood of us small tribes has all drained away, and then go make peace with Ligdan Khan?"

"Suchunang! Don't you stir up the people here!"

Oboyan Taiji shot to his feet and shouted sternly.

"The Great Khan has his own calculations! Right now the blades aren't sharpened, the horses aren't fattened — rushing into battle will only play straight into Ligdan Khan's hands! Do you want everyone to throw their lives away for nothing?"

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Suchunang Taiji laughed up at the sky as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

"Calculations? You think I don't know? You're clearly waiting for word from the Ming!"

His laughter cut off, and his eyes turned razor-sharp.

"Oboyan, I ask you — without an order from the Emperor of the south, how would those Ming troops dare to come out?!"

"The Ming cannot be relied on! We of the Tumed can only rely on ourselves!"

He stepped forward, glaring at Oboyan, and even more at Boshetu behind him.

"Boshetu, you've grown old. Your blood has gone cold! Your teeth have all fallen out!"

"You're only fit to hide in your tent, drinking milk tea and warming yourself by the fire! The Tumed have no future following you!"

"You—!" Boshetu shook with rage.

But Suchunang Taiji gave him no chance to speak. He whirled around to face the chieftains behind him, raised his arm, and roared:

"Those of you willing to hand over your cattle, your women, and your heads to the Ming for protection — stay here and keep waiting with him!"

"Those of you willing to take up your scimitars and seize back the pastures and glory that belong to us — follow me, Suchunang!"

"We, the descendants of the Golden Clan, would rather fall in the charge than kneel in a tent waiting to die!"

Before his words had even faded, the crowd erupted.

Whispered murmurs swelled into louder and louder debate. Doubting, wavering glances fell upon Boshetu, making him feel as though he were sitting on a bed of needles.

He could feel his authority as league lord slipping through his fingers like sand.

The faces of Khan Ahai and Boyan Huang Taiji were filled with anxiety and bitterness.

They knew better than anyone that the Right Wing tribes were now grasshoppers tied to a single rope — none could escape.

Internal strife was an enemy more fearsome than Ligdan Khan.

Seeing that Suchunang's words were about to scatter the people's hearts completely, Khan Ahai could sit still no longer.

He rose and shouted, "Suchunang! Enough!"

"With a great enemy before us, you stand here stirring up the people — do you want to sharpen Ligdan Khan's blade for him, so he can slit our throats faster?"

Boyan Huang Taiji also stood and yelled at the agitated chieftains: "All of you, be quiet! Hear the Prince of Shunyi out! Anyone who wants to go surrender to Ligdan Khan right now — get out this instant!"

Though their words were forceful, they carried a deep, helpless weariness.

They were defending Boshetu's authority, and also desperately trying to gather back together the sand that was already on the verge of scattering.

Boshetu looked at his allies, and his heart steadied a little — but when he saw the chieftains outside the tent, stirred to restless agitation by Suchunang, his heart sank again.

The dozen-odd taijis who had come today were all tribal chieftains who had once helped set him on the throne.

Yet just a few losses had turned them toward Suchunang.

And what next? Twenty clans? Thirty?

When this war was over, who would truly call the shots among the Tumed?

If he did nothing, he, the Prince of Shunyi, would today see his authority utterly destroyed and become a complete and utter laughingstock!

"Enough!"

A hoarse roar, like that of a trapped beast, burst from Boshetu's throat.

He shoved Oboyan aside and rose to his feet.

"Suchunang, spare us your sorcerer's ravings! I am the league lord of the Right Wing tribes!"

Clenching his teeth, he bellowed: "Five days! I will wait only five more days!"

His voice rang throughout the great khan's tent.

"If within five days the Great Ming still sends no definite word, I myself will take the field and fight Ligdan Khan to the death! What say you!"

Everyone fell silent, watching the raging, roaring Boshetu.

A slow, cruel, triumphant sneer curled at the corner of Suchunang Taiji's mouth.

"Fine. Five days. You said it yourself."

He drew back his overbearing presence and turned once more to the chieftains behind him.

"Everyone has heard. In five days, if he will not fight — I will!"

He paused, then spoke each word deliberately:

"Remember — the wolf-king's seat belongs forever only to the bravest Baturu!"

With that, he strode out of the great tent without looking back.

Behind him, the dozen-odd tribal chieftains hesitated a moment, glanced at Boshetu, and then, one by one, withdrew from the tent after all.

In an instant, the vast khan's tent was more than half empty.

As if all his strength had been drained away, Boshetu collapsed back onto his seat, gasping for breath.

Khan Ahai walked to Boshetu's side, clapped him on the shoulder, and could not suppress a sigh.

"Boshetu, with morale like this — can we truly hold steady for five days?"

Of course they could not hold steady for five days.

On the second day after Ombu returned empty-handed from Desheng Fort, bringing no commitment whatsoever from the Ming army —

On the third day after Ligdan Khan raided the most remote small tribe in the allied camp and swaggered away —

Everyone knew: the true decisive battle was about to begin.

It was beginning, and there was no stopping it.