Chapter 236: Section Fifty-One: The Tiger's Might

In the history Huang Shi originally knew, when Nurhaci attacked Liaoxi he left the Two Blue Banners behind him as an eastern defense — roughly one-third of his field forces were tasked with watching Mao Wenlong in Liaodong (the full Eight Banners had 231 niru; the Two Blue Banners together had 82). In this timeline, the Dongjiang Army faced only the Bordered Blue Banner alone, so the fighting in Liaodong was even more one-sided than in Huang Shi’s original history. The Later Jin’s entire defensive line from Fenghuangcheng to Lianshan, and from Lianshan to Fushun, was smashed through by the Dongjiang refugee armed forces.

Chen Jisheng, Kong Youde, and others sortied from Kuandian, marching a thousand li deep to strike the central Liaoning plain, while Mao Wenlong led the main Dongjiang refugee force as the follow-up echelon. Faced with the Ming army’s overwhelming numerical superiority, the local Banner troops and Han troops were utterly incapable of resistance. The Bordered Blue Banner, as the sole Later Jin field force, was — just as in history — battered step by step by the Dongjiang refugee armed forces surging in like a flood… if not worse.

Without the Plain Blue Banner’s support, the Bordered Blue Banner had to resist with its own strength alone. Jirgalang scraped the bottom of the barrel to piece together a defensive force, which was first defeated at Xianning Fort, where Kong Youde broke through the Crown Prince River; then defeated again at Fengji Fort, where the entire force collapsed and fled back to Shenyang, allowing the Ming army to cross the Hun River unhindered and drive straight to the walls of Shenyang, taking one day less than in the original timeline.

Standing atop the city wall, Jirgalang could see the crossing point on the Hun River. Large columns of Ming troops were swarming across the pontoon bridge, and this flood streamed all the way to the walls of Shenyang before being parted by the city, wrapping around both flanks and enveloping it. Jirgalang strained his eyes into the distance; the mudflats on the opposite bank were thickly dotted with Ming soldiers’ heads. They seemed to be felling trees as well, apparently trying to prepare more river-crossing equipment.

Since the fifth year of Tianqi, Jirgalang had more than once heard Nurhaci reveal his intention to move the capital to Shenyang. Large numbers of Banner soldiers and craftsmen were also continuously being transferred from Liaoyang to Shenyang — it seemed the formal relocation of the capital was imminent. But this year the situation in Liaonan had taken a sharp turn for the worse, and the Changsheng Island problem remained unresolved, bogging the Later Jin army down deeper and deeper, so the capital relocation had been delayed again and again.

Apart from being one month earlier, the overall strategic situation and balance of forces in Liaodong were still roughly the same as in the original history, so subsequent developments continued to follow their inevitable course. Three days earlier, Jirgalang had already issued an emergency evacuation alert. Every beacon tower east of Shenyang was lit, and tens of thousands of Banner soldiers abandoned their livestock, houses, and farms to flee toward Shenyang. Still, some people failed to escape into the great fortress of Shenyang in time, and these Banner people naturally met the same fate. After Kong Youde hunted them down and killed them all, he piled the corpses in front of Shenyang’s gates to intimidate Jirgalang.

After nightfall, the fires around Shenyang were as dense as the stars. The Later Jin garrison mobilized the entire city. On the walls, guards were posted every three paces and sentries every five paces; countless torches lit the top and base of the wall as bright as day. Inside the city, martial law was imposed, and torches were lit on every street. Even children of twelve or thirteen and old men in their sixties were issued weapons and patrolled everywhere in the city, guarding against discontent among the Han residents. In every household, weapons and iron tools belonging to bondservants and aha were urgently confiscated — heaven knows whether these slaves might turn on their masters. Fully armored, Jirgalang gripped the battlements and gazed at the sea of campfires below. Shivering, he said through gritted teeth, “The Dongjiang Army truly breeds faster than rats — no matter how many you kill, you can never finish them off, and each time they come in greater numbers.”

Suddenly the roar of cannon fire came from below the wall — Chen Jisheng’s main force had just arrived. For this campaign, the Dongjiang Right Division had hauled along their few small bronze cannons. Although they were reasonably effective against ordinary small forts, they could not possibly blast open the gates of a great city like Shenyang, so Chen Jisheng had them dragged to a hilltop beside the city, set up, and fired at random into the city.

From within the inner city came the occasional obliging sound of a rooftop being pierced or a house collapsing. The firepower of the Dongjiang refugee armed forces was of course not strong, nor could it inflict any major damage. But Shenyang had not come under direct attack for five years. Whether it was the panic-stricken refugee Banner soldiers or the Eight Banner nobles living inside the city, all were thrown into constant anxiety by the unceasing bombardment.

Listening to the shrill wails of children that now and then tore through the dark night, Jirgalang sighed helplessly. Word had long since come from the direction of Fenghuangcheng: his full brother Amin said he was defending and covering the Liaoyang line, and under the pressure of the Dongjiang Army was temporarily unable to reinforce Shenyang. He told Jirgalang to find a way to defend Shenyang with his own strength and to strive to further drive back the Mobile Corps Commander captain Mao — but whether it was Jirgalang or Amin himself, neither brother held any hope whatsoever for that latter objective anymore.

The warning beacon toward Liaoyang had also been lit, and urgent dispatches requesting reinforcements were already on the road to Liaoxi. Jirgalang muttered under his breath, “Manggūltai only knows how to grab, grab, grab. It was agreed that after taking Lüshun he would return to Liaodong, but once he left he never came back.”

In his heart, Jirgalang reckoned that even if Manggūltai’s Plain Blue Banner were here, they might not necessarily be able to withstand Mao Wenlong’s hundred-thousand-plus ‘mighty host’ all sortieing at once — but it would surely be somewhat better than the current situation.

Several more cannon shots sounded from outside, and another fire blazed up inside Shenyang. Gazing through the dark night toward Liaoyang, Jirgalang saw the line of beacon fires like a straight sword of light stabbing toward the northwest. “The whole purpose of this campaign was to seize the grain at Youtun, but the farther we went the more we couldn’t rein it in. Ah, who knows how many days it will take the Khan to hurry back.”

…

Before nightfall, Huang Shi once again summoned the six generals of the Guan-Ning Army and told them this was their last chance to board the ships. Huang Shi was about to order the small boats to leave the shore; if they did not go now, they would not be able to leave at all. The six men once again began a painful struggle, their brows and noses practically twisted into knots. Huang Shi felt that their eyebrows and noses were really not up to the task this time, so he found an excuse to leave and left them in the hall to discuss privately.

The Juehua silver vault was only so big. After leaving the main hall, Huang Shi was unwilling to stand in the courtyard braving the wind, so he ended up running into Zhao Yin’gong in the storehouse. The latter was bent over an account book, meticulously checking the five hundred thousand taels of silver in storage. When the other civil officials saw Huang Shi enter, they all hurriedly rose to greet him. Only Vice Prefect Zhao merely lifted an eyelid and, without a word, continued busying himself with the work at hand.

The scene made everyone present feel somewhat awkward. Ever since Huang Shi had come to the silver vault, Zhao Yin’gong had been frantically organizing men to count the silver — naturally, everyone understood that he did not trust Huang Shi. The other officials on the island also felt this was entirely unnecessary. Even if Huang Shi really did cart the silver away, this was not the time to pick a fight. Besides, this Military Commander Huang was clearly relying on imperial favor and was beyond reason; everyone thought that if they wanted to retaliate, they should wait until the fighting was over and then file a secret complaint with the Grand Secretariat. But Zhao Yin’gong had sighed and said, “The vault silver is all state property; safeguarding it is my duty.” Now the very source of the discord was right before their eyes, and Zhao Yin’gong was still there counting silver one by one, giving no face at all.

Huang Shi, however, was quite nonchalant, as if he had seen nothing. He repeated what he had just said to the generals, then asked the civil officials in the room whether they were willing to evacuate.

“We are not leaving.” Squatting on the ground inspecting a chest, Zhao Yin’gong spoke without raising his head, his tone as indifferent as if declining breakfast. He gently closed the chest he had just finished counting, lightly ticked his ledger, reached out to pull over another chest, and without pausing his speech said, “This official has a duty to defend the territory. Military Commander Huang need not say more.”

After returning to the inner room, Yao Yuxian, who held the senior rank, beat his chest and declared to Huang Shi, “We have discussed and decided: we will all stand or fall together with Military Commander Huang. We will never be rats who flee the battlefield.”

Huang Shi’s gaze swept across the other men’s faces. Most wore tense expressions mingled with worry and hope, but two of them were hiding at the back, sweating incessantly. One of them had his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down repeatedly, constantly swallowing saliva, and his eyes, as he looked at Huang Shi, were filled with pleading.

But before Huang Shi could open his mouth to ask, Yao Yuxian let out a great shout and at the same time gave that man a forceful shove. Fuming with rage, he demanded, “We just agreed to live and die together. What? Not even the time it takes to drink a cup of tea has passed, and you already want to go back on your word?”

The man being questioned turned deathly pale and stammered, “No, no… I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare.”

“Enough,” Yao Yuxian turned back and said to Huang Shi with head held high, “Military Commander Huang, let the small boats depart. We swear to live and die with Juehua.”

The twenty-fifth day of the twelfth month, fifth year of Tianqi.

After two days of desperate labor by all the able-bodied men on the island, the defensive system of Juehua Island had been basically completed. The sound of cannon fire at Ningyuan had gone on all day the day before yesterday, but by yesterday afternoon it had become very sparse. Early this morning, as Tianqi had instructed, Huang Shi fastened the Imperial Sword at his waist and ascended the command platform built for him, overlooking the field fortifications ahead.

This command platform was three zhang and three chi tall. The base was made of brick, stone, and rammed earth, while the top was a wooden ladder-tower, the uppermost level being a platform that could hold ten people. Standing on this platform, Huang Shi could not only take in the entire defensive line at a glance, but also see clearly for several li across the ice, and at the same time conveniently receive intelligence from the observation towers on both flanks.

The Internal Guard officers had already planted Huang Shi’s great banner atop the command tower. The six-zhang banner bore a line of gilt characters: “Dongjiang Deputy Regional Commander.” This title on the banner differed by one character from Chen Jisheng’s general’s banner — “Deputy Regional Commander” indicated that he was the second Dongjiang officer to receive the vice-general title, which also clearly established Huang Shi’s identity.

The bastion, the horizontal breastwork, and the three low walls had all been completed. The outermost wall was positioned essentially at the junction of ice and shore. Between each pair of outer walls there was a gap of roughly twenty meters, and the third low wall, which hugged the inner side of the bastion, was about fifteen meters from the bastion’s salient angle.

Large numbers of the island’s able-bodied men were setting up chevaux-de-frise and wooden palisades between the bastion’s horizontal breastworks, and were also banking earth at the base of the palisades and tamping it down to reinforce them. Behind them, iron cauldrons were set up, and auxiliary soldiers were melting ice to pour over and reinforce these palisades and chevaux-de-frise. Only a thirty-meter section of palisade in the center was left unreinforced — this was the gate to be left open for the infantry. Twenty meters further back were the newly built rows of thatched huts and wooden cabins — the living quarters and cold shelters for the Changsheng Army soldiers.

Besides bedding, these huts were also stocked with cloth, charcoal, and water-boiling vessels. As soon as a soldier was wounded in battle, he could be immediately transferred to these field tents. Army physician Hu Qingbai had personally inspected every fire pit and strictly required that they be kept lit at all times. In this season, fighting in such bitter cold, even the most trivial small cut could become a fatal wound.

In Huang Shi’s recollection, historically the Guan-Ning Army at Juehua had chiseled ice for three days and three nights straight. Countless men froze to death, suffered frostbite, or lost fingers, and when utterly exhausted they collapsed at the first casual charge by the Later Jin army. So ever since the three low walls had been completed yesterday morning, Huang Shi had ordered the four battalions of the Guan-Ning Army to enter a rest-and-recovery state as well. Although this slightly slowed the progress of the works, by this morning those seven thousand Guan-Ning officers and men had largely recovered their strength and could enter combat in high spirits.

The general’s banner dipped and swung again and again, and along the several-li-long battle line the banners dipped in response. Gazing at the ten-thousand-plus officers and men before him, the spears, halberds, and banners dense as a forest, Huang Shi truly felt a surge of heroic passion filling his chest and belly, almost bursting out of his body. After the banner-response ceremony ended, the legendary ever-victorious Junior Guardian of the Heir Apparent, the invincible god of war who swept all before him — Huang Shi — rested his left hand on the Imperial Sword, raised his right arm before him, and slowly turned his body to wave in salute to the soldiers on all sides. Below him, the tens of thousands of combat soldiers and auxiliary soldiers instantly erupted in cheers. Even the military households, women and children, and merchants on the island were all overcome with excitement, and many were already moved to tears by the atmosphere.

…

Just past the hour of Si, the watchtowers on both flanks sent out alerts almost simultaneously. Soon, a row of black figures appeared before Huang Shi’s eyes. This black line spread across the safe zone of the ice layer, heading straight for the Changsheng Army’s position. The enemy troops slowly emerged from behind the thin mist that still lingered over the ice, like a trail of ink gradually seeping through against the white-paper background before Huang Shi’s eyes.

When the enemy troops entered within five li of the position, Huang Shi rose from his stool, stepped forward two paces, and leaned on the railing to gaze out. The enemy in the mist was indistinct and hard to make out clearly. Huang Shi gave a self-mocking laugh: “If only I had a thermal imager — no, even just a telescope would be nice.” Behind him, the lookout and the orderlies also tensed their nerves. One strained his eyes to the utmost, trying to see the enemy more clearly; the other was ready at any moment to relay orders and dispatch troops from the cold shelters to the defensive works. The gunners in the cannon bastion also gripped their ropes, ready at any moment to pull the covers off the cannons.

But the order to prepare for battle was never given. Huang Shi watched the main enemy force halt several li away, watched the figures of their scouting riders hovering a hundred meters beyond the outer low wall, and let out a cold laugh: “How have the Jian slaves become so timid now? They see my banner and don’t even dare conduct a reconnaissance by fire?”

…

The commander leading the troops was none other than Wunege of the Bordered Yellow Banner’s Mongol Left Wing. After Nurhaci rose to power, this Mongol, drawn by his fame, brought his bandit gang of twelve men to defect to the Later Jin. The delighted Nurhaci gave him generous rewards. From then on, more and more Mongol bandits defected to the Later Jin, and by this time they numbered over three thousand troops. These Mongols were divided by Nurhaci into the Mongol Left Wing and Mongol Right Wing, with the Mongol Left Wing, attached to the Bordered Yellow Banner, placed under Wunege’s command.

This time the Mongol Left Wing had followed Nurhaci in the attack on Liaoxi, while the Mongol Right Wing had been left in Liaodong to guard against Mao Wenlong. Wunege had originally been very satisfied with this arrangement, because the Later Jin army had reaped considerable rewards in this offensive, and the equipment rate of his Mongol Left Wing had also greatly improved. All along the way the Later Jin army had succeeded in one plundering raid after another, and more than a few Mongol herders, drawn by the news, had come to join, hoping to earn a meal in the Later Jin ranks. By now Wunege had over two thousand Mongols under his command.

Yesterday, upon learning that Juehua was the supply transfer center for Ningyuan and held large stores of grain and cloth, and that the sea was now frozen solid, Nurhaci dispatched Wunege to seize these stores. Hearing that there were four Guan-Ning Army battalions on the island, Nurhaci had specially allocated to Wunege eight hundred armored soldiers from the Two Yellow Banners. Early this morning, Wunege had set out full of confidence with these three thousand-odd cavalry to attack Juehua. Along the way he had been thinking about properly outfitting his men with armor, grabbing an extra young woman for himself, and skimming off a bit of money, grain, and cloth — until he saw Huang Shi’s great banner…

One after another, the scouts he sent out came slinking back. Of the eight hundred Two Yellow Banner armored soldiers allocated to Wunege, five hundred had participated in the Battle of Fuzhou. The scouts he sent out were all soldiers who had faced Huang Shi’s army banner before. These scouts confirmed with one voice the identity of the enemy before them — it was precisely the Changsheng Island troops of Dongjiangzhen who had earned such renown over the past three years, and moreover their chief, Huang Shi himself, was in command.

After spotting the enemy, the Changsheng Island Internal Guard had sent out their own scouts. One of them had even slain an enemy beyond the low wall. That Internal Guard soldier impaled the severed head on the tip of his spear and paraded it along the entire battle line in a show of bravado, an act of valor that drew a great roar of approval from the Ming troops, just like the scene during the skirmish before Nanguan.

After reconnoitering, these Internal Guard scouts also returned below Huang Shi’s command tower and loudly reported. Having confirmed the enemy’s banner, Huang Shi nodded slightly and said quietly to the orderly beside him, “Form ranks. Taunt the enemy.”

Not long after, Wunege and his band heard shouts coming from afar. As time passed, the shouting grew ever more intense, spreading from the center of the enemy line all the way to the hilltops on both flanks.

At this moment, Yao Yuxian, who had been standing close behind Huang Shi these past few days, vigorously waved his fist: “Wunege, have you come to meet your death?”

This deafening roar exploded right beside Huang Shi’s head, making him lurch to one side. Yao Yuxian awkwardly stepped back. Only after Assistant Regional Commander Yao had steadied himself did the thunderous roar of ten thousand voices rise from below: “Wunege…”

After an even deeper breath, Yao Yuxian once again took a fierce stride forward: “…have you come to meet your death?”

“…come to meet your death?”

“…meet your death?”

The echoes from the misty hills on both flanks were likewise filled with mockery and disdain…