Chapter 258: Hong Taiji: At Last, It Is My Turn

The Hun River was known in ancient times as the Shen River.

The great river rises in the northeast, joins the Liao River and the Taizi River at the Three Forks, then flows west into the Bohai Gulf.

And north of the Shen River lies the city of Shenyang.

In the twenty-first year of Hongwu, Min Zhong petitioned to rebuild this city.

On the original rammed-earth walls, they clad the exterior with grey brick and lined the interior with dressed stone.

Once rebuilt, the walls stood two zhang and five chi high, measured nine li and thirty paces around, had four gates, and were flanked by two moats fed by diverted river water — a fortress as impregnable as metal.

This was once the seat of the Great Ming's Shenyang Central Guard.

It was also the nightmare that Wang Sancai could never forget in the "Liaohai Loyalist Records."

And it was the royal city the Jurchen chose after they rose to power.

But now, this Jurchen royal city was gradually welcoming Mongols into its fold.

Creak — creak —

The heavy sound of cart wheels crushed the silence of the wilderness.

A dust-covered column appeared outside the Anding Gate.

At its head was none other than Dorji Ilden, the Beile of the Alakchut tribe, one of the eight tribes of the Chahar.

He pulled his fur cloak tighter, raised his head to gaze at the towering gate tower, his exhaled white breath freezing into frost on his eyebrows.

"Ada, is what we are doing truly right?" Dorji Ilden's son, his heart full of dread, could not help stepping forward and asking in a low voice. Dorji Ilden turned to look at his wife, children, and tribesmen, and gave a cold laugh.

"The Tiger Khan is finished. After a single defeat, he shut himself in his tent and feasts day and night."

"And the Ming side has always favored the Kharchin. If we went over to them, we would likely be swallowed whole."

"We can't wait any longer! If we wait any longer, my wife and children will become the wife and children of the Naiman, and my warhorses will become the warhorses of the Aohan!" Not everyone supported the Tiger Khan's foolish proposal to move west.

The two great tribes of Aohan and Naiman were the first to abandon him, and between the Ming and the Jurchen, the majority chose the Jurchen. After initial probing and hesitation, Hong Taiji accepted them.

Updates are not easy, remember to share — read the latest error-free chapters at Sudu Valley!

And to prove their loyalty, they then turned their sabers on the other tribes that had once been under the Chahar banner.

On the thirteenth day of the ninth month, Ochir Taiji of the Naiman tribe went to attack the Alakchut tribe, which had remained behind on Chahar territory. He beheaded one hundred men, seized two hundred head of livestock, and presented them to Hong Taiji. He was granted the title Ochir Hoshoi and rewarded with a suit of armor.

From that day on, the Naiman and Aohan constantly raided the Alakchut tribe, making their lives utterly miserable.

After the eleventh month, when the Tiger Khan retreated in defeat, these raids had lessened somewhat, and the people's spirits had lifted a little.

Who could have known that after this defeat, with half his elite troops lost, the Tiger Khan would collapse so completely? For an entire month he ignored all worldly affairs, and the raids resumed and intensified.

Now, in coming to join the Jurchen, Ilden was half sincere in his choice — but the other half was purely forced.

In any case, a wolf on the steppe cannot survive alone; it must always seek out an alpha wolf.

The old alpha wolf was finished, so choosing a new one was only natural. "Enter the city —!"

The surrender ceremony — or rather, the initiation rite — was held in a specially prepared golden tent.

Hong Taiji sat high upon a throne of antlers, with the many Beiles seated in attendance on either side.

"This guilty subject, Dorji Ilden, kowtows before the Great Khan!"

Dorji Ilden removed his hat, revealing his shaved forehead and the braid at the back of his head, and heavily dropped to his knees upon the carpet.

In an instant, Hong Taiji's hearty laughter rang out.

"When an eagle of the steppe loses its way, so long as it is willing to turn back, this place shall always be its nest."

"Come forward! My brother!"

Dorji Ilden shuffled forward several paces on his knees.

He extended both hands and, with the utmost deference, wrapped them around Hong Taiji's feet.

Hong Taiji reached out both hands, lightly patted his back, and then smoothly helped him to his feet.

This was the embracing-foot ceremony, performed by a junior when meeting a senior.

After the ceremony, the atmosphere grew a few degrees warmer. Hong Taiji spoke: "Now that we are one family, go and meet your brothers." Dorji, as if a great burden had been lifted, rose and turned to the seated Great Beiles, performing the embracing ceremony between equals with each in turn.

First, the Jurchen Beiles.

The Great Beile Daishan, the Second Beile Amin, the Third Beile Manggultai, the Plain White Banner Lord Dorgon, the Bordered White Banner Lord Dodo...

Then, the Mongol Beiles.

Beile Ming'an of the Khorchin tribe, Beile Bak of the Jarut tribe, Beile Angkun Dügüreng of the Chahar who had previously surrendered...

For a time, everyone rose to their feet, and the atmosphere was one of complete harmony.

Hong Taiji held a golden cup and watched all this with a face full of smiles.

But suddenly, his brow furrowed slightly. He waved a hand toward an attendant standing to the side, motioning him over.

"Old Seventh... what is his excuse for not coming this time?"

The attendant replied: "In reply to the Great Khan, Beile Abatai sent Vice Regional Commander Namutai. He says the fur coat you rewarded him with before has been cut into two pieces and given to his sons to wear. He now has no fur coat to wear and is too embarrassed to come."

"He also said..."

The attendant lowered his voice even further and continued.

"Even if he came, the Mongol Beile Ming'an and Beile Bak would all get the seats of honor, while he would only get a lower seat. There would be no point in coming." Hearing these words, so full of resentment, Hong Taiji's brow instead relaxed. He nodded, signaling the attendant to withdraw.

Before long, Dorji Ilden had completed his round of greeting ceremonies.

Only then did Hong Taiji suddenly slam his golden cup heavily onto the table, producing a dull "thud."

The tent fell instantly silent.

Hong Taiji rose to his feet, tore off his black sable cloak to reveal the sturdy clothes beneath, and his voice boomed like thunder: "Only when the wolves of the steppe band together can they bite the winter bear to death!"

"We Jurchen, we Mongols, were once scattered sand, bullied and humiliated at will by the Han people to the south!"

"We sent them tribute, we served as their watchdogs, and for the sake of mutual tribute markets, how many of our wives, children, and elderly starved to death — and we even had our heads cut off so they could claim their rewards!"

He swept his gaze around the room, his eyes like blades.

"But now it's different!"

Hong Taiji suddenly drew the dagger at his waist and stabbed it deep into the leg of lamb; fine beads of grease dripped onto the table at once.

"My father the Khan rose with thirteen suits of armor and sent those Han running like rabbits in every direction!"

"Yet that foolish Tiger Khan, that cowardly Tiger Khan, still dreams of playing watchdog for the rotting Ming!"

"Brother Iledeng, the fact that you came today means you have seen through this — means you have returned to the true wolf pack!"

The words had barely left his mouth when he flipped his wrist and thrust the dagger, bearing a large chunk of scorched, oil-dripping mutton, straight before Iledeng's face; the keen blade glinted cold in the firelight.

"Come! Brother Iledeng! Eat it! From now on follow me — seize the Han women, seize the Han cattle and sheep!"

Iledeng drew a deep breath, suddenly lunged forward, opened his mouth wide, and bit down savagely on that chunk of meat!

He deliberately did not avoid the razor-sharp blade!

The dagger's edge instantly sliced his lip open; blood mixed with meat juices and ran down the corner of his mouth.

Yet Iledeng bore the pain and made not a sound.

He chewed in huge mouthfuls, a beast-like growl rumbling from his throat.

Only after swallowing did he jerk his head up, his face smeared with blood and grease, but his eyes blazing with mad exultation!

"Exhilarating!"

He bellowed, his voice hoarse.

"Now this, damn it, is what I call a true lord! This, damn it, is what I call a wolf pack!"

He roared, "We have the meat — where is the wine!"

"Ha ha ha ha ha!" Hong Taiji burst into wild laughter. "A fine man!"

He filled his own golden cup to the brim and held it out before Iledeng.

"The wine is right here, in this golden cup — do you dare drink it!"

"A gift from a true lord — how would I, Iledeng, dare refuse!" Iledeng seized the golden cup, threw his head back, and drained it in one gulp!

The wine washed over the wound on his lip, yet he did not so much as furrow his brow.

"Exhilarating! Exhilarating!"

He shouted the words from his mouth, yet with the utmost deference he presented the golden cup back with both hands, dropped to one knee, and roared with all his strength:

"From this day forward, I, Iledeng, am the falcon of the Great Khan! Wherever the Great Khan points, that is my direction — even if I dash myself to pieces, I will never fall back!" Hong Taiji took back the golden cup, stained with blood and spittle, from Iledeng's hands, refilled it to the brim, and raised it high!

"To our new brother, Iledeng — drink!"

"Drink!!!"

The atmosphere in the great tent ignited completely in that instant, like a fire pit into which a huge slab of beef fat had been thrown — it roared to life with a boom!

Everyone raised their wine bowls like men possessed, gulping wildly as Iledeng had done, tearing at the meat before them; crude curses, bellows, and great guffaws mingled into a single din, brimming with raw and savage power.

Hong Taiji, however, slowly settled back onto his Khan's seat.

He picked up his dagger and, from the remaining leg of lamb, cut off piece after piece of meat, each of just the right size, and placed them slowly into his mouth.

Amid the wild revelry, the leaping campfire cast his face now in light, now in shadow.

Hong Taiji ate the mutton bite by bite, now and then acknowledging the company's antics, raising his golden cup to answer them from afar.

Yet though he raised the cup again and again, he never once took a second sip of wine from that golden cup.

From time to time he let out great peals of laughter, but his eyes remained utterly calm throughout.

Could the Great Ming truly possess the Mandate of Heaven?

That an emperor like this should appear at such a time.

For a small state to stand against a great one is no easy thing.

A great state may make a thousand blunders, but a small state cannot afford even one.

Yet whether one means to negotiate, to fight, or to flee, in the end it all comes down to having strong soldiers and sturdy horses.

Abroad, as Zhuge Kongming said, one need only wait for the realm under Heaven to shift.

At home, the task is to prune the branches and concentrate authority.

Hong Taiji's eyes swept slowly across the faces of each Beile.

The unruly Amin, the reckless Manggultai, and — his fine second brother, that former crown prince… Daishan!

With whom should he begin?

Those words spoken by the Southern Dynasty's emperor surfaced once more in his mind.

"The key to the new policies lies in uniting the many to strike at the few."

Some of this young Son of Heaven's words, when read deeply, carried a certain flavor — they even coincided, in ways, with what he himself was doing.

But were such words truly meant to be spoken out plainly?

In the end, it was still the temperament of a youth — far too immature.

Hong Taiji gave a cold laugh, tore off a mouthful of mutton with force, and chewed; the rich aroma of fat burst forth at once.

Fine mutton! Cooked to perfection!

His eyes narrowed, and with a smile of genuine pleasure, he raised his cup once more.

"Drink! Drink! Drink! Tonight no one leaves until they are dead drunk!"