Chapter 387: The Brave Win

Hu Sheli, carrying a five-or-six-jin flail in his hand, dashed swiftly toward the nearby Ming squad under the cover of the trees.

What was called dense forest in the northeast was only relatively so; in fact, the spacing between trees was quite wide, not the kind that was impenetrably thick.

Hu Sheli was a white-armored soldier of the Bordered White Banner. Though not yet forty years of age, he had already taken part in dozens of large and small battles against the Ming army, and nearly a hundred Ming officers and soldiers had died at his hands.

The flail in his hand had been seized from a Ming Night Scout he had killed.

This time Hu Sheli had been ordered to lead ten Eight Banners soldiers forward on reconnaissance, intending to circle around the Ming fortress cities through the mountain forests on both sides of the official road and head south all the way, to scout out the location of the Ming army's grain and supplies, so as to provide precise intelligence and positions for a surprise attack by the Eight Banners elite.

In Hu Sheli's mind, the Ming army was nothing but a bunch of cowards who feared death.

Although the Ming army's firelocks made a terrifying noise when discharged, and being hit by a shot meant death or severe crippling injury, these Ming soldiers, timid as women, simply lacked the courage to face the Eight Banners soldiers head-on.

Every time battle was joined, before his own clansmen even entered bow range, the panicked Ming soldiers had already fired off their firelocks, then thrown them away and turned to flee—he and his clansmen only needed to chase up and slaughter them from behind.

Occasionally an unusually brave Ming soldier would turn and fight, but the result was that one log cannot prop up a falling house—under the gang-beating of the brave Eight Banners soldiers, he would be killed on the spot in an instant.

Upon receiving the scouting order sent down by his master, Hu Sheli hadn't taken it seriously at all in his heart; back in the day he had followed the main force all the way to Ningyuan, so he was no stranger to the roads in this area.

Having grown up in the deep mountains and old forests, he was accustomed to crossing ridges and mountains, and his ability to discern direction in the woods was innate; added to his psychological contempt for the Ming army, Hu Sheli was full of confidence in this scouting mission.

After circling around Songshan city through the mountain forest on the west side, he led this small squad of men racing south all the way.

Hu Sheli judged that the place where the Ming army stored its grain and supplies should be near Ningyuan city—there, over two hundred li from Songshan and Jinzhou, the position was safe enough, and the distance for sending grain to the front was also quite suitable.

Based on his past experience, he judged that the Ming army could not possibly have deployed scouts on both sides of the official road.

First, the Ming army would not think the Qing army dared to send men to infiltrate southward.

Second, judging by the cowardly look of those Ming generals, when they knew battle was approaching they would only order the entire army to cower inside the city, not daring to send anyone out to scout at all.

But what surprised him was that he had only just circled past two Ming fortress cities when he unexpectedly ran into a Ming squad in the deep mountain forest.

Although Cui Xingyun was also a veteran soldier by trade, when it came to experience in the dense forest, he was still slightly inferior to Hu Sheli.

Having grown up going into the mountains to hunt with his clansmen since childhood, Hu Sheli had keenly caught the occasional snort of a Ming warhorse when Cui Xingyun and his men were still over a li away.

After determining the direction Cui Xingyun and his men were advancing, Hu Sheli immediately decided to ambush and kill this small group of Ming soldiers, preferably capturing a live one to extract some useful military intelligence.

Though he didn't know the Ming soldiers' exact numbers, that didn't stop him from concluding this was a Ming scouting party.

A large Ming force could not possibly appear in the complex, hard-to-traverse mountain forest, nor was there any need for them to do so.

Of the ten men he led, three carried powerful foot bows and heavy arrows; these three each found advantageous positions, preparing to shoot the Ming soldiers dead.

No matter how many Ming soldiers were across from them, after they were wounded by arrows, once he led the charge, no one would be able to escape.

But what surprised him was that this small Ming squad turned out to be extremely elite—of the three archers, only one managed to fire two arrows in succession; the other two only had time to loose one arrow each before the four Ming soldiers in front were either wounded, fallen, or dodging aside—they had actually made the most timely response in an instant.

After ordering the archers to shoot down the Ming warhorses and then circle around from both flanks to envelop them, Hu Sheli charged forward at the head without a sound.

The other seven men spread out, preparing to bag this small Ming squad and kill them all.

After the three archers shot down the Ming warhorses, they slung their longbows diagonally across their backs, drew their blades, and circled around from a distance.

Cui Xingyun's front squad was ambushed in but an instant; the four men of the rear squad, seeing this, swiftly drew their blades and closed in toward the front squad, while their mounts wandered off to one side on their own.

Cui Xingyun loaded the short crossbow he had pulled from his horse's saddlebag, drew a bolt from the insert pouch at his waist and set it in the groove of the short crossbow, judging by the heavy footsteps of the Jianzhou barbarians.

After silently counting to three in his heart, Cui Xingyun flashed out from behind the big tree where he was hiding, the short crossbow in his hand level with his brow; his finger squeezed the trigger, and with a soft twang of the bowstring, the short, sharp bolt shot out like lightning—over a dozen paces away, a Jianzhou armored soldier holding a tiger-tooth spear fell with a cry.

The bolt Cui Xingyun loosed struck him in the eye socket; the tremendous impact drove the bolt straight through his skull, dragging out his red-and-white mingled brains.

Seeing this, a Qing soldier lunged several paces toward Cui Xingyun, and in an instant had closed to within a few paces of him, his iron mace already raised as if to strike.

Cui Xingyun hurled the short crossbow at this Qing soldier, and while the man's momentum was briefly checked, his right hand swiftly drew a flintlock pistol from his bosom; after cocking the hammer, he pulled the trigger.

With a loud "Boom!" the white gun smoke hung thick and undispersed in the impenetrable forest; Cui Xingyun tossed away the pistol and drew the long saber from his waist.

A few paces away, the Qing soldier with the iron mace was blasted back several paces by the impact of the point-blank firelock discharge and fell flat on his back, the iron mace dropping to the ground.

His chest had been blown open with a great hole, blood gushing out like a spring; his mouth hung wide open, his staring eyes filled with terror, and after his body twisted slightly a few times, he departed to the other world.

In barely a dozen breaths, Cui Xingyun had killed two sturdy Qing soldiers in succession.

At this moment, the four Ming soldiers who had come up from the rear squad, along with the soldier who had been hit on his chest mirror, were already locked in fierce combat with Hu Sheli and the other three Qing soldiers.

Hu Sheli swung his flail in a sweeping arc; the Ming soldier before him could not dodge and could only raise his long saber vertically to block, but the result was that the saber was knocked flying, and the flail smashed into his ribs; with a muffled grunt, this Ming soldier was knocked to the ground, opening his mouth to vomit up large chunks of blood and flesh.

This heavy blow had already shattered his internal organs; clearly he would not live.

A Ming soldier a few paces away loosed a crossbow bolt at Hu Sheli; because the distance was too close, Hu Sheli could not dodge in time, and the bolt drove straight into his left shoulder.

Hu Sheli roared in pain, and hurled the flail in his hand with all his might—it struck that Ming soldier square in the head.

With a crisp crack, the Ming soldier's iron helmet was smashed inward, half his skull beaten to pulp, and his body fell straight to the ground like a tree stump.

A Qing soldier swung his tiger-tooth spear with force, knocked aside the long saber of the Ming soldier across from him, then thrust straight in, striking that Ming soldier square in the lower abdomen; the sharp spearhead pierced through the cotton armor and sank deep into his belly.

This Qing soldier twisted the spearhead with force; that Ming soldier let out an inhuman shriek of agony, his colorful entrails spilling out from within the cotton armor; the Qing soldier across from him kicked out, and that Ming soldier's body flew backward, slammed into a big tree, then pitched forward, and immediately writhed on the ground in pain.

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

Two loud reports sounded in succession; the remaining two Ming soldiers fired their flintlock pistols at the opportunity—the Qing soldier with the tiger-tooth spear had his head blown to pulp by the shots, his body crashing stiffly to the ground, dead before he could even let out a cry of agony.

Another Qing soldier was also hit in the chest and belly by a pistol shot and fell, but did not die immediately; having dropped his weapon, both hands clutching his wound, he howled and rolled on the ground.

The two Ming soldiers who had fired their pistols each hurled them at Hu Sheli, who was shielded by the two fallen Qing soldiers, then drew their long sabers and charged at Hu Sheli from left and right.