Chapter 1751: This Khan Does Not Contend in Valor — Only in Wits!

On the night of the first day of the tenth month, west of the Ji Canal (the Ji Canal is a tributary of the Hai River, flowing past the city of Shunyi), a crackle of gunfire like beans popping in a pan suddenly erupted, shattering the stillness of the night.

Zhu Youjian hastily reined in his horse, halting the fine Persian-bred steed beneath him, and cocked an ear to listen. The gunfire was extremely dense and sounded somewhat muffled — it was not the report of Rumi muskets, but three-eyed guns firing.

"Your Majesty, those are this subject's household retainers," Zu Dashou, riding beside Zhu Youjian, spoke up at once, tense and anxious. "Judging by the sound, they must have run into the slave caitiffs by the Ji Canal!"

The three-eyed gun was a firearm much favored by Ming cavalry. Upon meeting the enemy, they would first loose a volley, and then, without needing to switch to a lance, simply swing the three-eyed gun like a mace. But Zhu Youjian did not permit his own personal guard to fight that way — his guard either used Rumi muskets to ambush, or fought with traditional mounted archery, or formed up with couched lances to charge, or dismounted to fight in formation on foot. He basically forbade close combat on horseback, and even more so forbade firing three-eyed guns from the saddle. The things could not hit anything, and they disrupted the tactical movements of a charge.

But he, the Emperor, could not control other men's household retainers — a subject's retainers were not the Emperor's retainers! So Zu Dashou's retainers still liked to fire off their three-eyed guns first to scare people, and then swing the guns in wide arcs as they charged into close combat.

Of course, this style of fighting of the Zu family army was useless against the white-armored and red-armored soldiers of the Eight Banners. The iron shot from three-eyed guns did little harm to Eight Banners soldiers clad in heavy armor, and might not even hit them. And in close combat — Zu Dashou's retainers could certainly not outfight the white-armored and red-armored soldiers of the Eight Banners.

But against the Mongols, this approach worked very well indeed!

The Liaodong garrison retainers had been forged in fighting the Mongols, and their tactics naturally had the Mongols' number. Their armor was better than the Mongols', their weapons better, they had firearms the Mongols lacked, and they drew pay so generous the Mongols could scarcely imagine it. Moreover, the Mongols had by now reverted to tribal organization — unless one was reborn into the right family, there was basically no way to rise. The only way to live well was to become a household retainer of a Ming frontier general. So the Mongol warriors who could fight and came from humble origins all became the ace cards among the retainers — the Yi cavalry shock troops!

Zu Dashou, riding at the vanguard with Zhu Youjian this time, had naturally gone all out, directly committing his strongest Yi shock cavalry and offering the highest reward scale. But now that battle was actually joined, he was still somewhat on edge.

Zhu Youjian glanced sidelong at the long-legged general and said with a smile, "Worry not, Commander Zu. The slave caitiffs' white-armored soldiers have already been beaten into fearing Us; they will not dare come out lightly. What your retainers have encountered are only weak troops of the Kharchin Mongols. Victory is certain."

What? The white-armored soldiers have been beaten into fearing you? Isn't that a bit too grand a claim?

Zu Dashou certainly did not believe it, but he still had to humor the Emperor aloud!

"Your Majesty is mighty; this humble subject is in awe."

Zhu Youjian gave a short laugh. "Come, let us go to the banks of the Ji Canal and see for ourselves!"

With that, paying no heed to Zu Kefa, he spurred his warhorse and shot forward like the wind. The cavalry following behind and guarding his flanks likewise quickened their pace under their officers' commands, all galloping after Zhu Youjian toward the Ji Canal.

Zu Dashou, Zhu Chunchen, and the other ennobled favorites had no choice but to steel themselves and follow. If anything truly befell the young Emperor, they would not fear for themselves — what they feared was that this young Emperor, whose valor outstripped the whole army, would return safe and sound and punish them for fleeing the field!

But only when they had galloped with Zhu Youjian all the way to the west bank of the Ji Canal did they discover that Zu Dashou's Yi shock cavalry had already driven Hong Taiji's Mongol light cavalry back across the Ji Canal. And on the opposite bank lay the encampment of Hong Taiji's great army.

Hong Taiji's army had pitched camp in the Ming style as before — a blaze of lamplight, like a sea of stars spread across the earth, most imposing.

On the east bank of the canal, near Hong Taiji's main camp, a force of about a thousand white-armored Eight Banners soldiers had by now deployed, setting up great shields and standing off against Zu Dashou's retainers on the west bank.

The two sides were not close, and with a river between them, neither bows nor three-eyed guns could reach. So both sides were cursing across the street — no, cursing across the river — and not in Chinese either, but straight in Mongolian.

Seeing the main force arrive, the leader of Zu Dashou's retainers, a big-bearded brawny fellow named Zu Kuan, came up with several torch-bearing retainers to greet them. Catching sight of Zu Dashou, he bellowed, "Commander! The brothers had luck today — all we met were northern caitiffs. We took more than thirty heads! Now we can have ourselves a fine time!"

So they really hadn't run into the slave caitiffs after all! Zu Dashou thought to himself: Could the little Emperor really have slaughtered a pile of their white-armored soldiers? That would be too ferocious.

"You are Zu Kuan, are you not?" Zhu Youjian knew Zu Kuan. In his previous life, the man had been sent by Zu Dashou into Shanhai Pass to aid in the fighting. Though brave, his discipline and his relations with others were both abysmal. So in the twelfth year of Chongzhen, when the Qing troops took Jinan, he had been charged with the crime of losing a princely fief and executed. Thinking of it now, it seemed rather unjust.

"Heh heh, I'm Zu Kuan all right. And who might you be?" Zu Kuan answered with a grin.

"We are the Emperor of the Great Ming!"

"Ha ha ha!" Zu Kuan laughed so hard he doubled over. "If a whelp like you is the Emperor, then you and I are the Jade Emperor himself!"

"Mind your manners!" Zu Dashou, hearing Zu Kuan spouting nonsense again, hastily barked to cut him off. "You are in the presence of His Majesty — dismount and kowtow at once!"

"Ah!"

Zu Kuan froze, and before he could react, Zhu Youjian waved a hand. "Kowtow for what? Everyone's in armor! Dispensed with, dispensed with. Zu Kuan, find some men who speak Mongolian and go challenge them in front of the slave caitiffs' camp!"

"Challenge them?" Zu Kuan was baffled. "Challenge them to what?"

Zhu Youjian said, "To have Hong Taiji come out and fight Us in single combat, of course!" He added with a chuckle, "The realm has fallen into chaos to this point, and it is nothing more than a contest between Us and Hong Taiji. We think there is no need for you soldiers to fight and die over it. Let Us and Hong Taiji settle it in single combat!"

Zu Kuan panicked at that. "No, no — if you two fight it out one-on-one, what are retainers like us supposed to do?"

Exactly!

If Zhu Youjian and Hong Taiji went off to duel, what use would there be for retainers like Zu Kuan? Wouldn't he be out of a job?

Zhu Youjian was amused by Zu Kuan's words and waved him off. "Go on, go on. There will always be a share of wealth and rank for you!"

Watching Zu Kuan lead his men off, Zhu Youjian said with a smile to Zu Dashou, "Commander Zu, this retainer of yours is not bad. How about letting him become one of Our retainers?"

Zu Dashou said hurriedly with a smile, "He is just a crude fellow. To follow Your Majesty would be his good fortune."

Zhu Youjian laughed heartily. "Have all your retainers go join the taunting — it will be good to rile Hong Taiji up!"

"Hong Taiji, you dog of a caitiff, listen well! The Son of Heaven of the Great Ming wants to fight you one-on-one. If you've got any balls, then don't hide away like a coward, too scared to show your face!"

Hong Taiji had just lain down and was not yet asleep when he faintly heard people shouting challenges in Mongolian — and what was more, spouting nonsense about the Ming Son of Heaven wanting to duel him?

What was all this about?

The Ming Emperor challenging him, the Great Khan, to single combat?

Hong Taiji could no longer lie easy. He rose at once, threw on his clothes, put on his cotton armor, and then strode out of his tent, mounted his horse with a troop of white-armored soldiers, and rode off following the sound to take a look. Just as he came out of the camp gate, he ran into Dorgon, who had just returned from the Ji Canal.

Seeing Hong Taiji, Dorgon hastily saluted. "Great Khan, why have you come out?"

"Did I not hear that someone wants to fight me in single combat?"

Dorgon was taken aback, thinking to himself: Could it be that the Great Jin is about to change Great Khans again?

That was something Dorgon dared not say aloud. Instead he urged Hong Taiji, "Great Khan, do you truly mean to fight the Southern Emperor one-on-one? Your subject-brother has heard that this Southern Emperor is a master of martial arts and once killed the foremost warrior of the Mongols."

"What are you talking about?" Hong Taiji laughed. "Why would this Khan duel a mere child? This Khan does not contend in valor — only in wits! Old Fourteen, send your men to shout back at the little Southern Emperor across the canal. Don't let them lose face."

"Yes!"

Dorgon acknowledged and went off. Before long, Dorgon's men could be heard roaring in Mongolian: "The Tiancong Great Khan, peerless in wisdom, disdains contests of valor and delights only in contests of wits! A contest of wits — does your little Emperor dare?"

They had not been shouting long before the men on the opposite bank changed their words: "Slave caitiff chieftain, listen! The Son of Heaven of the Great Ming accepts the contest of wits. Geometry, natural philosophy, mathematics, Buddhist studies, Christian theology, Western philosophy, Latin, French — any contest of wits will do!"

Chapter recommendation: the new work by the great author Wu Yu Ming Yun, The Iron Bones of the Great Ming.

"Throughout its entire 315 years, our Great Ming never made marriage alliances, never paid indemnities, never ceded territory, never sent tribute. The Son of Heaven guarded the gates of the realm; the sovereign died for the altars of state."

Iron-boned and unyielding, only our Great Ming; in the Jiashen cataclysm, the divine land sank; the fair rivers and mountains were stained with the stench of barbarians; the sons of Han swore never to be slaves!

In the thirteenth year of Yongli, Zheng Chenggong launched his northern expedition. It was a pain utterly devoid of joy — the finest general fell in battle, and the capital for another northern expedition was utterly lost.

In that year, Zhu Mingzhong unexpectedly arrived in the Great Ming and became a common soldier under Zheng Chenggong's command...

(End of Chapter)