Chapter 908: Unfilial Son, Watch the Cannon! (Please Subscribe)

Fulin nearly choked on his own breath.

If Dodo did not come within nine months, he himself would most likely have to die for the Great Qing's realm — and by then who could still go and drag Dodo back for military justice?

What use was a dog-fart military pledge like that?

With a sharp slap, Fulin flung Dodo's military pledge onto the floor.

"Calm your anger, Your Majesty."

Mulima shuddered and dropped to his knees before Fulin with a thud.

He too knew that Dodo's military pledge was worth less than a dog's fart! But he still had to come to Beijing! Who asked him to be a sinner against the Great Qing? If not for his blunder, the Battle of Deshengdian might not have been lost. So he had to atone for his crime! Risking the journey to Beijing to urge Fulin to resist to the end was his way of atoning.

Of course, he also knew that Dodo could not possibly march troops inside the Pass by the third month of next year.

Because Dodo's campaign in Joseon could not possibly be fully concluded before the end of the third month next year — unlike the purpose of Hong Taiji's two invasions of Joseon, what Dodo wanted this time was not Joseon's submission and tribute, but to take Joseon itself!

To take it, not to destroy it!

Dodo was already preparing, after extinguishing the Yi dynasty, to found a "Jin dynasty" in Joseon.

Founding a new dynasty in Joseon was far more troublesome than extorting a few hundred thousand in annual tribute. The latter only required penning in the Yi dynasty and squeezing it to death, while the former required pacifying all eight provinces of Joseon, winning over the yangban aristocracy, and assembling a mixed regime half-Jin and half-Joseon. At the same time, it was also necessary to rule out interference from the Great Ming court.

At present Dodo's army had only taken the coastal plain region of western Joseon, stretching from the Yalu River in the north down to Hanyang in the south, along with a corner of the southeast (seized by Oboi's troops via the sea route) — still far from fully pacifying the eight provinces!

To completely settle Joseon within nine months, and then withdraw the army from Joseon to go save Fulin in Beijing, was nothing but a dream.

And Mulima's task was to make Fulin keep dreaming well!

"Your Majesty," Mulima said, "the Prince would never abandon Beijing. The situation in Beijing now is just like the great war between Song and Liao of old! If Liao had given up the Yan-Yun lands and let the Great Song unify the interior, then Liao could not have lasted long beyond the Pass in the northern frontier. For without the taxes and produce of the Yan-Yun lands, the Khitans could not have held down the Jurchen and the Mongols. And the Great Ming of today is not the Great Song of old — it is wildly ambitious, even coveting lands on the far side of the ocean, bent on becoming a world empire like Japan. How could it ever permit the Prince to carve out a domain beyond the Pass? If the Prince does not save Beijing now, then in the future he will only be able to resist the Ming from Shengjing!"

Hearing this, Fulin felt there was some sense in it. He sighed, no longer wishing to say anything, and waved his hand: "Mulima, go back and tell Dodo that Our Beijing is as solid as gold, and the stores are more than ample — it will not fall within a year. If it goes beyond a year, that is harder to say!"

Mulima hastily made his assurance: "This slave will certainly tell the Prince, and have him lead troops to relieve Beijing as soon as possible!"

Fulin sighed: "Good, We trust you. Leave quickly — before the Ming army completes its encirclement, get out of this death-trap of Beijing!"

Mulima let out a soft breath, kowtowed to Fulin, and said: "Take care, Your Majesty. This slave will go at once and relay your words to the Prince."

After the kowtow, he rose and withdrew from the "Heaven-Piercing Pavilion" of the Coal Hill fortress where Fulin was staying. He left in such haste that as he descended from the pavilion he nearly collided with someone. Looking closely, he saw it was Sonin, flustered and panicked — one look and it was clear something had gone wrong!

Mulima did not stop to ask. He cupped his hands to Sonin and went down the stairs like the wind — something big must have gone bad; better to leave at once!

Sonin was in no mood to waste words with Mulima either. With a bitter face he entered the Heaven-Piercing Pavilion, saw Fulin sitting dazed on the imperial throne, and dropped to his knees with a thud, weeping: "Your Majesty, disaster! The Chahar Prince Abunai has betrayed the Great Qing!"

"Was that not to be expected?" Fulin did not even raise his eyelids.

"The Great Consort Nangnang and Prince Xiang surrendered along with him."

"So what?" Fulin said. "Did you expect them to die for the Great Qing's realm?"

Sonin shook his head: "Your Majesty... the Ming emperor has just enfeoffed Prince Xiang as Prince Gong!"

"What?" Fulin started, seeming to sense that something was off.

Sonin continued: "Prince Xiang has also acknowledged the Zhu emperor as his father — he is now His Highness the Imperial Son of the Great Ming Emperor!"

"What?" Fulin leapt to his feet. "Bombogor — he actually..."

This was the hatred of a stolen father — no sharing the same sky!

Fulin had had three Amas in all, one after another, and there had also been Ajige, who had nearly become his Ama — but having an Ama stolen was something he had encountered for the first time!

He had only ever heard of wives being snatched away; having an Ama snatched away was something he had never heard of before!

What was to be done?

Fulin was so agitated he began to tremble. If the Zhu emperor was his Ama, then his life had some guarantee — a vicious tiger does not eat its own cubs!

But now that his Ama had been stolen, this was truly going to cost him his life!

"Your Majesty..." Sonin still had bad news to report. "Your Majesty, the scout riders sent out of the city have reported back that the Ming vanguard has already reached the area between Beijing and Tongzhou, and they have begun building gun emplacements!"

"Gun emplacements?" Fulin asked. "How far are the emplacements from the city wall?"

"About five li from the wall!"

"Five li!" Cold sweat broke out on Fulin's forehead. He was not one to think that farther emplacements were better!

Emplacements far away meant the cannon's range was also long... and longer range usually meant heavier cannonballs!

"Roughly how large are the guns?"

"They should be... should be 48-pounders." Sonin said. "There are rumors that the Zhu emperor, in order to deal with the Beijing city wall, imported eight 48-pounder great guns from Holland!"

"Eight 48-pounder great guns?" Fulin was so frantic tears were about to come. What did he import such huge guns for? A father and son fighting — was there any need for 48-pounders? What a waste of silver!

"Can Beijing's walls withstand them?" Fulin asked.

Sonin nodded: "They can withstand them, they certainly can, but..."

"But what?"

"But a 48-pound cannonball could fly over the wall and land inside Beijing!" Sonin said. "And whoever that cannonball lands on — it seems no one could withstand that!"

"Feng Sizhong, how far can this gun shoot?" At that moment Zhu Cilang was standing with his hands behind his back on the Tongzhou canal dock, watching artillerymen and supply troops strain with all their might to haul a great cannon down from a ship.

"Your Majesty, the effective range of a 48-pounder is about six li." Feng Sizhong, Director of the Artillery Bureau of the Grand Marshal's Office, replied. "This subject will have the gun mounted a bit higher, so the shot can clear the Beijing wall, land farther in, and perhaps even bounce once."

"So that would be one or two li inside Chaoyang Gate?" Zhu Cilang frowned. "It can't reach Coal Hill!"

"Of course it can't reach Coal Hill," Feng Sizhong said. "Coal Hill is still six li from Chaoyang Gate!"

Zhu Cilang nodded: "Beijing is simply too large. Then isn't this gun useless?"

"Your Majesty, this gun can destroy the wall, and it can also frighten people." Feng Sizhong smiled. "It is meant to frighten Fulin — perhaps if he gets scared, he will surrender and submit."

"Will he?" Zhu Cilang looked at the intimidating shape of the great gun and thought to himself: If I'd known, I would have bought 64-pounders — maybe they could reach a bit farther!

"He will!" Feng Sizhong said. "Following Your Majesty's instructions, the Artillery Bureau has had a batch of explosive shells made, and there are also wooden sabots that can hurl the explosive shells into the city — the sight alone will be terrifying!"

Explosive shells were not actually high technology; they already existed in the seventeenth century, and Ming artillerymen were particularly fond of tinkering with them — it was just that their reliability was not high. Two things were lacking: a wooden-tube fuse and a wooden sabot.

The former was simply a hollowed-out wooden tube with a length of ignitable fuse packed inside. The latter was really just a wooden tail-fin, which could both stabilize the trajectory and make the shell's point of impact more accurate.

The Zhu emperor knew about both of these things, so he had had them made long ago, and this time they would be put to use against Fulin.

This was not merely for frightening people — it could also be used to destroy the upper portion of the Beijing city wall. The Beijing wall was very tall and could not be entirely protected with sandbags, so the upper portion was still the old-style right-angled brick wall, which could be demolished with large-caliber explosive shells!

"Good!" Zhu Cilang clapped his hands, then looked toward Beijing and said with a smile, "Unfilial son, first have a taste of your father's 48-pounder cannon!"

(End of Chapter)