Chapter 1790: Hong Taiji Is Here Again!

The spring morning mist drifted slowly over the course of the Luan River, shrouding in haze the river that flowed through the massed peaks of the Yan Mountains.

All around was utterly still; only the sound of the river water rushing and gurgling could be heard.

Wu Sangui was already lying prone in the dew-soaked grass, scanning the surroundings for a long while through a telescope, looking extremely tense.

This trusted bodyguard who had charged into battle at Zhu Youjian's side many times had already risen to the rank of deputy chiliarch of the personal guard before the imperial tent, a rank of the lower fifth grade (after the rise of the garrison-battalion military system, the traditional guard-station military posts gradually came to serve only as indicators of an officer's rank and status, reduced to rank titles; the ranks of the imperial tent guard were the same), and he had also learned quite a few strange and unusual arts of war from the little emperor — he was more than qualified to be appointed a battalion mobile corps commander.

Yet Zhu Youjian had only given him a company commander's post over a single platoon, and had even assigned him to serve under his "old rival" Li Zicheng, who had already become a battalion commander.

The current organization of the imperial tent guard was as follows: below the army, the largest unit was the regiment, whose commander was called an assistant regional commander or regiment commander (if a civil-service officer commanded a regiment, he was called regiment commander); below the regiment were two battalions, whose commander was called a mobile corps commander or battalion commander; below the battalion were four companies, whose commander was called a battalion commander; below the company were three platoons, whose commander was called a company commander.

Wu Sangui now held the rank title of deputy chiliarch of the lower fifth grade, but his actual appointment was only that of a company commander in charge of thirty or forty men — truly a bit small.

But Wu Sangui had nothing to complain about, because whenever any of Zhu Youjian's young bodyguards were sent out to command troops, they all started from the most basic company commander post. The little emperor had said: this is called practical training!

Serve as a company commander for a while, and once you have done well, return to guard duty and continue studying the art of war. After studying the art of war for a while, go out again as a battalion commander; once you have done well as a battalion commander, return to the emperor's side to study, then go down again as a mobile corps commander. Only after doing well as a mobile corps commander could one be considered to have truly begun one's career. If you served well, in the future you could all become assistant regional commanders, vice regional commanders, regional commanders — and if your merits were sufficient, you could even be enfeoffed and become a noble!

The future was truly bright!

But however bright the future, right now he still had to risk his life going deep into the front lines as a night scout. This time he had crossed the Luan River together with his immediate superior Li Zicheng, and was even lying in the wet grass waiting to fire a black shot!

"Black-shot tactics" had now become one of the standard tactics of the imperial tent guard. After the Battle of Tangzhi Mountain in the first year of Chongzhen, Zhu Youjian had issued an edict to Xu Guangqi, Minister of the Ministry of Works, and Johann Adam Schall von Bell of the Directorate of Astronomy, ordering the two of them to oversee the manufacture of a batch of Rumi muskets. The funding for making the muskets was to be paid entirely from the Inner Transport Treasury, at a price of 15 taels of silver per Rumi musket. Once the silver was paid in full, the quality requirements were of course extremely high: every Rumi musket delivered would be personally inspected and accepted by Zhu Youjian.

By the end of the second month of the second year of Chongzhen, Zhu Youjian had already received, one after another, more than a hundred brand-new Rumi muskets. Added to the Rumi muskets previously issued to the troops that had not yet been damaged, the imperial tent guard was now equipped with more than 550 Rumi muskets.

Of these, Zhu Youjian's personal guard was equipped with over a hundred, and the remainder were distributed among nine regiments, each regiment receiving about fifty Rumi muskets. These Rumi muskets were then allocated down to the most basic company level, each company getting six or seven, all concentrated in a single platoon. And that platoon was a black-shot platoon specially meant for ambushing people — the one Wu Sangui now commanded was just such a black-shot platoon.

"They're here!"

A deliberately lowered voice sounded beside Wu Sangui's ear: "Due north, at least a hundred riders, coming along the river valley!"

The speaker was a panting man in a riding jacket, who had run all the way down from the top of the slope where Wu Sangui was positioned.

The enemy coming was not few, but Wu Sangui still did not hesitate for a moment. He shouted his orders: "Load! Light your match cords! Those without firelocks, ready your Kaiyuan bows — shoot the bastards!"

After giving the order, he picked up his own Rumi musket, advanced a few steps, and crouched behind a towering tree, deftly lighting the match cord and loading the powder and ball. In no time he had the black shot set up!

By now the sound of hoofbeats had broken through the sound of the flowing water and reached Wu Sangui. Along with the hoofbeats came shouts and curses — all spoken in Mongolian.

"Northern caitiffs again," Wu Sangui muttered, and at the same time breathed a sigh of relief.

The northern caitiffs were, after all, not as hard to fight as the slave bandits. Though their heads were not worth much, at least it was safer.

At that thought, Wu Sangui had already spotted many riders galloping along the main road by the Luan River. He hurriedly raised his firelock and aimed at the lead rider, then realized the man was his own immediate superior, Li Zicheng. Li Zicheng was wearing an ugly blue studded cotton armor, with a wine-cup helmet fitted with a leather neck guard on his head. He looked no different from an ordinary night scout of the Ming border army.

For some reason, at that moment Wu Sangui actually felt an impulse to fire his musket. He always found this Li Zicheng somewhat irritating!

Of course, he did not dare fire a black shot at Li Zicheng — the military law of the imperial tent guard was as unyielding as a mountain, and besides, Li Zicheng was "the most loyal man in the Great Ming," a great and true loyalist!

Wu Sangui held his firelock motionless. Li Zicheng quickly galloped past his muzzle, followed by twenty or thirty more riders, all dressed as border-army night scouts. Behind them came seventy or eighty Tartar cavalrymen in red cotton armor, looking like slave-bandit Eight Banners troops, but shouting and cursing in Mongolian.

By now Li Zicheng and his men had reined in their horses, wheeled around, and taken down the long spears from their shoulders, forming up in a charging formation on the main road by the Luan River.

When the seventy or eighty red-armored Tartar cavalry saw Li Zicheng and his men arrayed in a charging formation, they seemed somewhat afraid, and halted their horses a few dozen paces from Li Zicheng and his men — and their position happened to be directly under the muzzles of Wu Sangui and his men.

Wu Sangui was an old hand at black-shot ambushes. He did not hesitate, immediately pulling the trigger. The match cord ignited the powder in the firing pan, a puff of smoke burst forth, and then came a crackling volley — seven black shots, fired almost at the same instant!

The Rumi musket was a matchlock of extremely high accuracy, famed for being vicious and deadly. Although its penetration was nothing special, the Mongols chasing Li Zicheng were not wearing thick armor — armor thick enough to stop a Rumi musket was not light, and was inconvenient to wear on patrol and search duty in the field. So after the volley, four Tartar cavalrymen tumbled from their saddles.

After firing his musket, Wu Sangui did not reload. Instead he pulled out a suona horn and blew it with all his might. At the sound of the suona, his men without firelocks began shooting arrows. Each man had a Kaiyuan bow, and they loosed arrows in rapid succession.

Though only a little over twenty men were shooting, the arrows still fell like rain, and with considerable accuracy. In the blink of an eye they had shot down seven or eight Mongol cavalrymen.

The Mongols, struck in turn by firelocks and arrows, immediately fell into chaos. Li Zicheng had been waiting for just this opportunity. With a great shout, he leveled his spear, spurred his horse forward, and charged, leading his men in a headlong assault.

The Mongols opposite had already lost their formation, and now, struck by Li Zicheng's cavalry charge, they had not even the thought of resisting. They scattered in a rout and fled, turning their horses and running.

Li Zicheng and his men did not dismount to take heads, but galloped in hot pursuit. Meanwhile Wu Sangui's men had already stowed their firelocks and bows, seized their sabers and round shields, and with a battle cry surged forward to take prisoners — the main purpose of their reconnaissance across the river was to ascertain the true strength of the Jianzhou troops at Mameng Mountain!

A beiyu of the Mongol Plain Red Banner was soon dragged before Wu Sangui, still cursing and muttering: "Damned southern barbarians, don't get cocky. The Great Khan has already reached Mameng Mountain. Just you wait — the Great Khan's heavenly troops have already reached Mameng Mountain!"

Wu Sangui was startled at these words, then asked in Mongolian: "Which Great Khan? Which Great Khan has come to Mameng Mountain to get himself killed?"

"The Great Khan of our Great Jin, of course!" the Mongol Plain Red Banner beiyu roared, his eyes red. "The Great Khan has arrived — the day of death for you Han folk is not far off!"

Hong Taiji had actually already reached Mameng Mountain! Wu Sangui thought to himself: the slave-bandit army has come fast indeed!

(End of Chapter)