Chapter 354: The Great Battle Begins

Arrogance is his problem; we only need to follow the Viceroy’s orders and launch a joint assault on Anqing.

In the days ahead, send out more scouts to closely monitor the rebel forces’ movements.

I have a feeling this battle for Anqing won’t go smoothly.

Qin Tianrui is a scion of the noble class; someone’s got his back, so he can ignore the rebels—but we can’t.

Raising this force wasn’t easy; if we suffer heavy losses, it’ll be hard to replenish.

Bai Yifeng spoke with bitter resentment.

We’re all troops of the Great Ming, yet we’re treated as third-class.

Since the Marquis of Zhenyuan took office, the pay and rations for the noble elite units have been fully disbursed.

Other imperial troops get at least sixty percent of their pay, but we’ve never even seen what Qian Liang looks like.

When asked, they say: Imperial decree—militia rations must be self-raised.

Aside from me, the Commander of the Militia, everyone else is temporary labor.

We don’t even have official designations, let alone pay and rations.

In Huguang, even the lowest-ranking garrison troops looked down on us.

To suffer such unequal treatment without a single complaint is impossible.

To gain official status, the militia must be disbanded and absorbed into other regular units.

Seeking help from former classmates and mentors achieved nothing.

Within the civil official bloc, there’s a stronger preference to disband and reorganize the militia—or simply dissolve it on the spot.

To most officials in the court, armed forces like ours, uncontrollable and independent, are considered unstable elements.

Aside from our odd group, most other regional militias across the realm strictly limit their numbers to under a thousand.

To avoid policy risks, local aristocratic clans would rather create multiple aliases just to keep their numbers within imperial limits.

The Huguang militia is essentially a coalition of local militias, held together only by Bai Yifeng’s iron-fisted methods.

Once broken up, the force will quickly slip out of control.

We’ve angered too many people in raising funds; if we don’t hold onto a large army, not only will I be ruined, but the entire Bai clan will suffer with me.

With negotiations deadlocked, reorganization was shelved, and no one would pay for the militia’s rations.

As Huguang was reclaimed by the court, recruiting became increasingly difficult.

We could still sneak in a few recruits, but as soon as we raised recruitment banners, local officials immediately came to block us.

Their justification was solid: to recruit locally, produce an imperial edict.

I, as the specially appointed Commander of the Militia, have no authority to recruit independently.

In the Great Ming, expanding troops follows strict standards.

First, apply to the Viceroy’s office for approval; then, the Viceroy submits the request to the Ministry of War and the Grand Military Command for endorsement; finally, it must be approved by the Emperor.

If any step in this chain is blocked, it’s illegal recruitment—and if caught, you lose your head.

Li Mu was able to expand his forces smoothly because he operated within the existing imperial structure, merely replacing battle losses.

Subsequent training and recruitment followed formal channels, with the Marquis of Wuyang petitioning the court for official quotas.

Recruitment in other provinces also only proceeded after the court granted official designations.

According to court regulations, the Huguang militia is legally allowed only one thousand armed militiamen; all excess personnel are illegal.

We were fooled by the lies of the two previous Viceroys, underestimating how hard it is to gain official status in the Great Ming.

We wrongly believed that after a few battles, we’d earn formal imperial recognition.

But they only dangled empty promises—granted all sorts of privileges, yet never gave us the paperwork to apply for official status.

One misstep, eternal regret.

We didn’t act quickly enough earlier; the new Viceroy hasn’t kicked us while we’re down only because he’s preserving the bigger picture—he won’t take risks to clean up his predecessor’s mess.

Former local officials who supported us have either died in battle or been disgraced; new appointees avoid us like the plague.

“Big brother, you’re too soft-hearted.

Learn from those military officers—be more arrogant. They’d never dare treat you like this.

Back then, the Marquis of Hanshui openly defied orders yet still rose in rank and title.”

Bai Yihao’s complaints were ignored by everyone.

Arrogance requires capital—and we have none.

Li Mu could defy orders not only because his backer was powerful, but because he was far enough from the Imperial Envoy.

Rebel forces blocked communication; sending a single message took nearly a month.

Remote command was impossible; as long as he won battles, Xu Wenyue could turn a blind eye to everything else.

The later Zhu Viceroy was even worse—recklessly giving orders that collapsed the entire front.

He didn’t even have time to settle scores with Li Mu before he destroyed himself.

When generals are in the field, they may disregard imperial orders.

If the commander doesn’t complain, the court won’t pursue it—especially when the most capable general is on the front.

If we dared imitate him, we’d have been crushed as rebels long ago.

Though Bai Yifeng commands high prestige within the militia, if he truly chose to defy the court, few beneath him would support him.

The moment he showed even a hint of disloyalty, someone would rush to the authorities to betray him, trading his head for an official post.

Fundamentally, this militia is a landlord’s armed force; they joined the campaign against rebels to enter the bureaucracy, not to rebel against the Great Ming Emperor.

“You fool, stop talking nonsense!”

Bai Yifeng immediately rebuked him.

If you can’t enter officialdom through the proper path, you can still buy your way in.

Historical precedent shows that once the court opens the door to purchasing offices, it’s nearly impossible to shut it.

It usually begins with honorary titles, then moves to remote, insignificant posts, then to ordinary official positions.

Step by step, eventually they’ll sell off the most lucrative posts.

Though Emperor Yongning’s opening of the office-buying system drew widespread public criticism, many quietly saved silver, preparing to secure a good post.

The gentry sons within the militia were sharpening their knives, hoping to profit from the rebellion-suppressing campaign.

With military merit and money in hand, securing an official post becomes far easier.

Knowing his men’s ambitions, Bai Yifeng constantly reinforced his image as a loyal minister.

Even when privately complaining, he directed his anger only at individual officials—not at the court or the Emperor.

…

The roar of artillery shattered the silence of Anqing.

Qin Tianrui, who had arrived first at Anqing, wasted no time and launched a probing assault.

As expected, the rebels had reinforced their defenses; the assault met heavy resistance.

“How far is the militia from us?”

Qin Tianrui asked.

He held no hope for the militia’s combat effectiveness.

But to retake a military stronghold like Anqing, you need bodies to fill the gaps.

The First Army of Jiangxi was painstakingly built by him; no matter how much he craved glory, he couldn’t sacrifice it as cannon fodder.

“General, the militia is less than forty li away. At their current pace, they’ll arrive by tomorrow afternoon.

Should we send someone to urge them on?”

A young officer beside him asked.

When we agreed to march together, the militia was closer to Anqing than we were.

Yet after we reached the front, set up camp, and rested for a day before attacking the rebels, the militia was still dawdling on the road.

They were three full days late compared to our agreed schedule.

“No need.

No matter how much we urge them, they’ll still arrive tomorrow—those few hours don’t matter.”

Qin Tianrui said calmly.

He never expected much from the Huguang militia.

If your expectations are low enough, you won’t be disappointed.

Though his official rank was higher than Bai Yifeng’s, they were not in a command relationship.

In joint operations, he had no authority over the militia.

If they’re uncooperative, disputes must be settled between the two Viceroys’ offices—it’s not his place to demand accountability.

If he couldn’t handle such a minor issue himself and had to escalate it, everyone would see him as incompetent.

If we exposed tensions before the two armies even met, future cooperation would become even harder.

From a strategic standpoint, he must now forget the original schedule to avoid mutual embarrassment.

…

Wu Army camp.

“My Lord, the enemy has taken the bait.

The Jiangxi troops, who arrived first, have already launched an assault on Anqing.

The Butcher’s forces are still marching and are expected to reach the front tomorrow.

No unusual movements have been detected among the other imperial troops.”

Your Excellency, should we begin the netting?

Deputy Commander Zeng Haochuan said with excited expression.

The plan has progressed too smoothly; the enemy is walking exactly as we anticipated.

To avoid further complications, it is time to close the net.

Since the enemy has split into two waves, we shall defeat them one by one.

Issue orders: select one thousand elite troops; the breakthrough comes tonight.

Notify the main force: they must arrive at the battlefield within three days to encircle and annihilate the enemy.

Fang Yuxuan said with commanding authority.

To deliver a crushing blow to the enemy, he personally led ten thousand elite soldiers to replace the garrison troops in several counties south of Anqing.

The total number of troops stationed remained unchanged; each rotation involved no more than a thousand men—completely normal troop adjustments.

The hidden position remained on the southern bank of the Yangtze, directly across from Anqing Prefecture—making it even less noticeable.

Choosing a night raid was entirely learned from Li Mu.

The righteous army had suffered many defeats from such tactics; Fang Yuxuan wanted to return the favor.

Marquis, which enemy group should we strike first?

Zeng Haochuan asked, puzzled.

Night raids on enemy camps have always been high-risk, high-reward.

Historical examples of night attacks are countless.

Yet only a few resulted in decisive victories; most ended in failure.

Of course, you pick the softest persimmons to squeeze!

Though I’ve never faced Qin Tianrui, he was trained by that scoundrel Li Mu and once led a night raid against the Northern Barbarians—he must be prepared.

Sending a thousand troops to attack his camp would be like delivering heads to him.

That butcher, despite his fearsome reputation, commands troops with mediocre combat effectiveness.

He may have forty thousand men, but once chaos breaks out, even another forty thousand would be useless.

The probability of success is at least eighty percent.

After eliminating these bastards, we’ll regroup and turn back to deal with Qin Tianrui’s forces.

Fang Yuxuan explained irritably.

Choosing the Tuan Army as the target isn’t just about picking the softest target—it’s because they have the most troops.

The more enemy troops you kill, the more impressive the victory report becomes.

Even if we fail to hold onto Jiangxi’s First Regiment, I can still manipulate the battle records to create the illusion of crippling the enemy’s main force.

After all, they all look nearly identical; it’s hard to distinguish between the two armies by severed heads alone.

Of course, such morale-shattering remarks could never be spoken outright.

…

At midnight, Zeng Haochuan led his troops, slipping silently to the edge of the Tuan Army’s encampment.

Attack!

After reconnaissance confirmed no trap, Zeng Haochuan immediately gave the order to assault.

“Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh…”

Arrows took the lives of the patrol soldiers; their dying screams alerted the garrison troops.

Enemy attack!

Realizing the dire situation, the night-duty Tuan Army officer urgently ordered the alarm sounded.

Sound the gongs and drums!

The method is archaic, but effective.

In the darkness, flag signals and beacon fires are useless; only the sound of gongs and drums can transmit the message fastest through the camp.

How many enemy troops are out there?

Bai Yifeng, jolted awake from sleep, demanded urgently.

Different drum rhythms conveyed different messages.

The current rhythm meant an enemy night raid had struck the southern edge of the camp.

My lord, the outside is in chaos; no specific information has reached us yet.

Perhaps you should wait a moment—our men will report soon…

Before the personal guard captain could finish, Bai Yifeng cut him off.

No more nonsense—send men out immediately to investigate!

While the personal guards moved, the camp erupted into chaos.

Tuan Army soldiers awakened from sleep did not reach for weapons to fight—they were overcome with terror.

The frontline troops, stunned by the sudden enemy assault, had already begun to break.

In panic, fleeing soldiers ran wildly through the camp, pushing the already fragile military order to collapse.

Don’t run!

Get back here, all of you!

…

Seeing his troops retreating, the Tuan Army officer shouted furiously.

But once chaos takes hold, no human effort can reverse it.

Lacking night-fighting experience, the Tuan Army faced this for the first time and had no idea how to counterattack.

Brother, things are bad—localized mutiny has broken out.

The chaos is spreading rapidly; order a retreat immediately!

Bai Yihao rushed over, pleading urgently.

As the cries of battle grew louder, the chaos within the camp expanded rapidly.

Few soldiers died by enemy hands; most casualties came from trampling caused by panicked comrades.

To maintain internal power balance, Bai Yifeng had long planted hidden conflicts among his men.

Many disputes that could have been resolved were deliberately suppressed by him.

The Xiangxiang troops were known for clear grudges; prolonged suppression didn’t resolve issues—it only deepened internal tensions.

Now, with chaos erupting in camp, it became the perfect moment for settling old scores.

Once someone started, nothing could stop it.

No!

The situation outside is unclear; ordering a retreat now will cause total collapse.

The enemy’s night-attack force can’t be large—send men immediately to organize the troops and launch a counterattack!

Bai Yifeng spoke with firm resolve.

As a commander who had repeatedly suffered defeat yet never surrendered, he was known within Dayu as the “endurance champion.”

If he could flee, he would have ordered retreat long ago.

But it was pitch black; once the army left the camp, reassembling it would be impossible.

…

(End of Chapter)