Chapter 229: Section 44: The Race

Like every other thatched hut in Dongjiang Town, everyone inside this one was busy. The eldest brother had already lit the stove and was desperately blowing on it to make the fire stronger, the backdraft of smoke blackening his whole face.

The third brother had long since wiped clean the three large pointed wooden staves and was now furiously sharpening the newly forged waist knife. Gritting his teeth as the blade scraped out a grating screech, he said without turning his head, "Big Brother, if there's no time to bake the flatbread, forget it. The Grand Commander will feed us on the march anyway."

"Almost ready, almost ready." Hearing this, the eldest brother blew fiercely a few more times while reaching out to test the temperature of the stove wall. "What's the rush? The army won't be moving out for a while yet. Better carry a few flatbreads on you — it'll steady your nerves."

The youngest of the four brothers rummaged around frantically and finally managed to pick out all the relatively intact cloth scraps in the house. He even pulled out the birch bark from under the bedding, ready to use it for wrapping things — and of course, none of those wrapping cloths were left behind either. The second brother helped the youngest tie up his clothes, then stuffed dry grass into his own shoes while instructing him, "Don't skimp on the trouble, and don't be afraid of it pricking your feet. You have to pack it in carefully. Every time we've gone on campaign before, I've seen men whose feet froze right off."

At last, each of the four brothers had three flatbreads tucked into his coat, and three wrapping cloths tied securely around his waist. The eldest brother wound some straw rope around the sheathless blade and carefully tucked it into his belt, then slung the scrubbed-clean wooden shield onto his back. He and the second brother each had to carry some hemp rope as well. After casting a final look around his home and at his three brothers watching him, the eldest asked one last question: "Brothers, haven't left anything behind, have we?"

The three answered without a moment's hesitation, shouting: "Nothing, Big Brother."

"Good. Let's get ready to move out."

The eldest brother reverently brought out a small clay pot, opened it with great care, and scooped out with his fingers some grease that had been saved up for who knows how long. This grease — you couldn't quite say whether it was lard, vegetable oil, beef tallow, or mutton fat, because there was a bit of everything in it. He portioned the grease out bit by bit to his three brothers, watching them carefully smear it on their faces and hands, and only then rubbed the faint residue left on his own fingers onto his own face.

The four men wrapped their ears with rags and put on their old wind-blocking hats. The eldest brother shoved the battered wooden door open with force, and the cold wind outside rushed in at once, making him shiver. Squinting, he glanced up at the sky, then strode out of the house.

"Strike Shenyang, feast on pig and sheep."

The marching column erupted in wave after wave of thunderous shouts. The four brothers, walking toward the column, also brandished the walking sticks in their hands with all their might, joining in the battle-spirited cry.

"Second Brother Sun."

After they merged into the column, the second brother suddenly felt someone tug at the hem of his coat. He turned his head and saw it was the Bai family from next door — a household of just grandfather and grandson. The one tugging his coat was Bai Youcai, an exceedingly filial young man. The last time they went to Zhenjiang to forage, Bai Youcai had walked together with the Sun brothers, and back then, no matter what he scavenged, he couldn't bear to eat it himself, always insisting on bringing it back to share with his old grandfather.

Bai Youcai winked at the second Sun brother and pursed his lips toward the two younger brothers. "All four of you brothers have come this time? Not even leaving one to watch the house?"

"What's there at home worth watching?" the second Sun brother answered offhandedly, but then he suddenly made out who was following behind Bai Youcai and hurriedly cupped his hands in salute. "Grandfather Bai, you've come too?"

"Aye. Er Gouzi." The old man Bai had three wooden javelins strapped to his back and gripped a thick walking stick as he moved along with the stream of people. The old man's withered lips had deeply sunken in, and when he grinned, his last few teeth showed. "Counterattack into Liaodong!"

From far away came another long, drawn-out howl — someone straining his neck, dragging out the syllables as he yelled: "Strike Shenyang —"

"Feast on pig and sheep!" Including Grandpa Bai and Sun Ergou, every single Dongjiang soldier waved his fists and weapons in excitement, letting out a full-throated battle cry.

Tens of thousands of Dongjiang officers and men formed a long, winding human stream. At the head of this endless serpent, two eight-span red banners fluttered against the north wind — like the flickering tongue of a viper poised to strike.

"Grand General Who Pacifies Liao."

"Regional Commander of Dongjiang."

The rider positioned directly between the two great banners was none other than the Great Ming Left Chief Commissioner Mao Wenlong. His resplendent battle armor gleamed coldly under the winter light. Mao Wenlong raised his chin high into the biting north wind, his face etched with wrinkles like knife carvings. He was as proud as a war god who had never lost a battle, as lofty as if he were marching on a triumphal road.

This air of confidence drew wave after wave of cheers from the military households along the roadside. Behind him, his loyal personal guard retainers also clicked their tongues in admiration. Behind Mao Wenlong, who rode his horse at a slow pace, one retainer carried the Imperial Sword, wrapped tightly in yellow silk. That man, imitating his master's bearing, had his nostrils practically pointed up to the sky.

Flanking the Imperial Sword were the standard-bearers of the great banners. With the same proud bearing, they held the two military banners high, guiding the Dongjiang grand army behind them as it marched north without a backward glance...

The afternoon of the seventeenth day of the twelfth month, Tianqi 5. You-tun Guard, Guangning.

No trace of cooking smoke rose from the city walls, but the red banners of the Great Ming were nowhere to be seen anymore. Instead, the banners of the Later Jin were planted everywhere. Huang Taiji and Manggultai stood atop the gate tower, watching with deep satisfaction the long column of handcarts below the walls. These unarmored troops, originally meant to transport army provisions from Haizhou to the front lines, had now reversed direction and were carrying the mountain-like heaps of grain, fodder, and cotton cloth stored in You-tun Guard back to Haizhou in an endless stream.

Three days earlier, Ningyuan Central Assistant Regional Commander Zhou Shoulian had abandoned You-tun Guard and fled like a rat. The forty thousand shi of rice and beans stored in the warehouses had all fallen into enemy hands. Combined with the spoils captured since crossing the river on the sixteenth, the Later Jin army's advance had been greatly slowed by these encumbrances. Just as in the Battle of Ningyuan in Huang Shi's original history, Nurhaci had to issue an emergency order for the rear niru to carry out an urgent second mobilization — each niru had to send out another hundred men with handcarts to follow behind the main force. To fulfill this order, each Later Jin niru had no choice but to conscript its household slaves and bondservants into the transport corps.

Watching the endless stream of carts transporting grain and fodder to the rear, Manggultai laughed heartily with satisfaction and gave Huang Taiji beside him a hard slap. "Eighth Brother, didn't I tell you? If you want to slaughter pigs and eat meat, you've got to hit the Guan-Ning Army. After this battle, we'll get through this winter just fine. A few days ago, I saw those brats in the banners — every one of them starving, skinny as monkeys. And those women, all dried-up and scrawny. Now they can eat their fill for a few meals."

"Aiyaaa... ya." In his excitement, Manggultai stretched luxuriously and twisted his neck hard, making his bones crack. His voice even carried a hint of Kunqu opera cadence. "This is so much better than fighting that pauper Mao Wenlong in Liaodong. From the Dongjiang Army, all you can get are empty wrapping cloths. Kill a thousand Dongjiang soldiers and you still might not capture a single suit of armor."

At the mention of armor, Huang Taiji also smiled. "Fifth Brother, thank you again for those suits of armor you gave me last time."

"Don't mention it, don't mention it." Manggultai waved his hand dismissively. After Huang Taiji returned from Liaodong, Manggultai had sent him a batch of the spoils captured at the Battle of Yaozhou. "We're own brothers — why so polite? When you came back from Liaobei last time, didn't you also send me several hundred warriors, plus quite a few cattle and sheep?"

After driving off Lin Danhan, Huang Taiji had indeed sent some captives to Manggultai, but it was only about five hundred people. Lin Danhan himself wasn't wealthy to begin with, so the cattle and sheep Huang Taiji seized weren't many either, and the share given to Manggultai was even smaller. "Such a paltry amount — how could it be worth all that armor and weaponry from Fifth Brother?"

"Ai, if I say it's worth it, it's worth it. A trivial little matter, and yet you can't stop thanking me for it." Although Manggultai had given a lot, he felt that, in all fairness, he owed Huang Taiji a favor in return. He hadn't expected Huang Taiji to keep thanking him endlessly. Impatiently, Manggultai said, "In the future, if you get something good, just don't forget your brother's share, that's all. You're too long-winded, almost like those southern barbarians. But then again, having read those southern barbarian books of yours, you really are smarter than us. Those southern barbarians do have a few redeeming points after all."

Huang Taiji smiled and said no more. He glanced toward the southwest. "We'll soon cross Guangning Guard and enter the territory of Ningyuan Guard. We're getting farther and farther from Liaoyang. Father Khan, and you too, Fifth Brother — neither of you listened to me. If Mao Wenlong makes a move at this time, I'm afraid Amin alone won't be able to handle it."

Manggultai gave a contemptuous sneer, curled his lip, and said dismissively, "If he can't handle it, then don't handle it. Mao Wenlong has already gnawed Zhenjiang and the Lianshan area clean. Didn't they say even the crows there have moved away? As long as our men hold fast to a few blockhouses, let Mao Wenlong make whatever trouble he wants. There's nothing left there anyway — I refuse to believe they can eat dirt. If you ask me, what I'm worried about is still Liaonan."

"The Changsheng Army?"

"Yes." Manggultai shivered, and the smile on his face was replaced by an expression mingling hatred and fear.

After Huang Taiji returned from Liaobei, Manggultai had dug up those cannons again. Most of them were still usable. After the two brothers tested them, they found that the Ming army's cannons were not much more efficient at killing than ballistas, because their accuracy was simply too low and their loading speed was very slow. At the time, Manggultai was so furious he wanted to kill someone, but Huang Taiji stopped him. He reminded Manggultai — in the Battle of Nanguan, the Changsheng Army's cannons had only been effective when fired at close range. It seemed this thing was only good for defending or attacking city walls.

Manggultai brooded for a moment, his heart still gripped by fear, and asked with a trace of worry, "Eighth Brother, will your method work?"

"No problem. Haizhou is absolutely secure. Fifth Brother, you have very little faith in me."

Before this campaign, the Later Jin side already knew that Huang Shi had gone to Beijing. But to secure their line of retreat, Huang Taiji had still dragged every usable cannon to Haizhou. The two hundred captured Ming army gunners had been receiving special treatment all along and continued to be entertained with good wine and fine food. Huang Taiji and Manggultai had even raised their banner status. This time, they were all left in Haizhou, ready to bombard any Changsheng Army that might come to attack.

These new "bannermen" were suddenly allotted land, wealth, and large houses. One after another, they excitedly beat their chests and assured the two beile — should the Changsheng Army come to attack, they would definitely blast every last piece of the Ming army's siege equipment to smithereens.

"I have great confidence in your calculations. But if we run into Huang Shi — well, of course, if we run into him, your calculations won't fail either, but..." Manggultai tilted his head and thought for a long time. He was a bit embarrassed to voice his doubts about Huang Taiji directly, but after hemming and hawing for a while, he still couldn't find the right words from his meager vocabulary.

"Relax, Fifth Brother." Huang Taiji smiled and patted the uneasy Manggultai, his face full of confidence. "Changsheng Island doesn't have enough horses, and I suspect they don't have enough army provisions either. In this freezing weather, they certainly won't be able to stay out in the field for long."

The area around Gaizhou was now a barren wasteland. Manggultai hadn't been idle these past few months. He had burned down every thatched hut, filled in every well, and left behind not a single grain of food or scrap of cloth. The Gaizhou garrison had also long since prepared piles of firewood, ready at any moment to torch the fortress into white ash. Manggultai swore he would make sure the Ming army could find no shelter from the winter cold, no inhabitants to encounter, and no hot meal to eat.

Recalling his overall deployment, Manggultai felt that no one could have done better. He rubbed his hands together. "As long as they can't come in winter, that's fine. In spring, we'll return to Liaoyang. Changsheng Island doesn't have many men, and even fewer horses. Hmph, if we can't beat the Changsheng Island's battle troops, can we not beat their baggage and supply trains? I refuse to believe it."

After this impassioned speech, Manggultai once again laughed heartily, full of self-satisfaction. Huang Taiji said nothing more, quietly waiting for his fifth brother's next words. Sure enough, the once heroically confident Manggultai eventually glanced left and right and lowered his voice again to ask, "Do you think the Changsheng Army might take the sea route and block our path ahead?"

"Didn't we discuss this question last time, Fifth Brother?" Huang Taiji, who had long anticipated this, showed not a ripple of emotion on his face. His smile remained as genial and natural as ever. "According to intelligence from Changsheng Island, their main force has already gone to Fuzhou, and the entire elite of the Dongjiang Town Left Association is concentrating on Fuzhou. Even if Huang Shi rushes back to Changsheng Island in the next couple of days, even if he can get enough ships, he still won't make it in time to transfer his troops back."

Huang Taiji glanced at Manggultai. "Does Fifth Brother still remember how many men Changsheng Island has right now?"

"How could I not remember? I remember it all too clearly." Before the campaign, Manggultai had practically worn out the intelligence reports on Liaonan. These days, he had even specifically learned to use the abacus, saying that from now on he would personally calculate the Changsheng Army's troop strength, because he didn't feel at ease leaving such work to his advisors. "One Boulder Battalion, five infantry companies, totaling two thousand officers and men. It seems there are also two artillery companies that haven't left, with twelve cannons — two large ones, ten small ones. No cavalry company, and half a worthless Vanguard Battalion."

"Fifth Brother is quite right. This force is utterly incapable of fighting our army in the field. If they try to hold a city, we'll just bypass it." Huang Taiji looked completely assured, his expression very composed, his tone utterly unruffled. "Two thousand infantry — would they dare come out of the city to pursue us?"

Manggultai had been nodding along as he listened. In truth, he had long since analyzed everything Huang Taiji said just as clearly himself. But he still felt an inexplicable, intermittent jolt of panic. Lately, he was often startled awake by nightmares. The Third Beile, ashamed of his own cowardice, scratched his ear. "Everything you say is absolutely correct. But why am I always so terribly jittery?"

Huang Taiji was quite understanding of Manggultai's reaction. He didn't offer more words of comfort but instead recommended a shaman to his brother. After the Battle of Fuzhou, Huang Taiji had replaced that old shaman. According to Huang Taiji, this new shaman was very capable — he could summon the sky god every time, and his prophecies were very accurate. He suggested that Manggultai visit his tent that evening, so he wouldn't be plagued by suspicion and paranoia all day, pointlessly scaring himself for no reason.

The eighteenth day of the twelfth month. Changsheng Island.

The heavens were not cooperating. Yesterday, the Changsheng Army still couldn't set out. But this morning, the wind stopped, and the waves suddenly subsided. Deng Ken seized the opportunity to load the cannons and the crates of gunpowder onto the sea vessels. Huang Shi and Wu Mu escorted the last batch of ammunition aboard the ship.

Standing at the bow and gazing out from the railing, Huang Shi watched as Changsheng Island, rising and falling amid the icy sea before his eyes, slowly moved, accelerating away to his right — slowly, but without pause, receding until it vanished from Huang Shi's sight. He looked up at the mast behind him. A sailor had tied himself to the mast and was desperately waving a giant red flag.

After Huang Shi's sea vessel completed its turn, a sailor on board raised a long horn. He leaned back, drew a full breath, then puffed out his cheeks and blew the horn with force. The long, drawn-out note of the horn drifted on the sea breeze, sounding like a mournful sob. The officers and men on deck turned one after another to look toward the stern. The stiff sail on the mast had already been hoisted, and behind them, Changsheng Island grew farther with every league traveled.

On the sea's surface, one sea vessel after another began to turn. As one mournful horn after another sounded, the several dozen ships scattered outside Changsheng Island weighed anchor and set sail in perfect order. Stiff sails were soon hoisted on every ship, and at last they strung into a single line across the sea...

The sky gradually darkened, and half the sun sank below the horizon. Huang Shi stood at the bow, gazing west into the distance. The warship beneath his feet pitched on the dark-brown sea, its prow cleaving through the grayish-blue waves. From time to time, he could hear the shouted orders of the Inner Guard officers. All the sanitary regulations for sea voyages from Changsheng Island were being carried out methodically. By Huang Shi's order, these regulations were equally binding on the sailors from Tianjin Guard. The soldiers checked their equipment one after another, knowing full well how vital pre-battle preparation was for the slaughter to come on the battlefield.

The wind direction was not entirely favorable, but neither was it a full headwind. Night fell, and Huang Shi could no longer make out the sea vessels behind him; he could only gauge their distance by the torches lit on their masts. Before entering the cabin, he raised his hand one last time to feel the sea breeze.

— At this speed, we should reach Juehua within four days. Hmm, by then the solid ice at Juehua's harbor should have been chiseled open, right?