Chapter 428: On the Verge of Eruption

But hot-blooded courage, in the end, could never last long.

Facing the booi bondservants surging forward like a tide, crazed as if possessed, the cold Folangji cannons fired searing shot that plunged mercilessly into the crowd, tearing apart body after body, carrying away severed limbs and broken arms, and finally leaving piles of mangled flesh and shredded corpses on the ground.

At first, the booi bondservants, driven by the momentary bravery kindled by generous rewards, risked being blasted into pulp by the shot that howled in at any moment, and threw themselves desperately into dismantling the chevaux de frise.

But under the hammering of the other cannons, which had already swung their muzzles around and were now slaughtering them ruthlessly from the flank, that fearless valor vanished in an instant, like spring snow meeting a blazing sun, disappearing without a trace.

Anyone with any battlefield experience knew that this kind of crossfire was especially deadly to men — especially in such dense formations, the shot flying crosswise cut through them like a hot knife through butter, wantonly carrying away one living soul after another, leaving the grievously wounded and dying to wail and shriek, and inflicting tremendous mental torment and anguish upon the survivors.

Three more volleys followed in succession, only this time more cannons joined in, inflicting double the casualties on the booi bondservants.

"Run!"

Someone suddenly let out a wild roar — a voice so loud it drowned out all the screams — and then the remaining booi bondservants scattered completely, like a startled flock of sheep, in a great rush.

The booi bondservants fled with all their might toward both flanks, each man desperate to escape this hellish, carnage-strewn ground as quickly as he could.

Nearly every face and every pair of eyes wore the terror of one who had seen a ghost in broad daylight, and even as they sprinted they screamed with mouths wide open, as if that alone could purge the nightmare from their minds.

The Qing troops supervising the battle still spurred their mounts forward to cut the fugitives down, but they could not stem the tide of the rout in the slightest.

The booi bondservants seemed blind to the blades and spears before them, caring only about running for their lives, even as the heads of one companion after another were lopped off and went tumbling across the ground.

Abatai watched it all with an expressionless face, showing not the slightest stir of emotion at the grievous losses among the booi bondservants.

After pondering for a long moment, he gave a slight shake of his head, then issued orders to gather in the booi bondservants who had fled toward the flanks of the main army, and to forgo any further punishment.

Abatai then went on to instruct the meiren janggin beside him to give each booi bondservant two coarse flour cakes as a reward.

These people still had their uses — whether tilling the fields or doing labor, these free workers were hardworking indeed.

Until he could capture a fresh supply of population and wealth, it was better to keep them.

Abatai ordered the army's infantry to rest in place and await orders, while dispatching men to summon the meiren janggin of the Mongol Banners who were roaming the outer perimeter, so that riders skilled at lassoing horses could be chosen from the Mongol Banners to drag away the chevaux de frise with ropes.

Abatai, crude on the surface but meticulous within, had already heard the cannon fire sounding to the east, and he knew the Two White Banners had run into the same situation as his own force.

So he deliberately sent a fast rider around the southern face of the Ming position, galloping to the Two White Banners on the left wing, to pass this method on to Dorgon, so as not to sacrifice more booi bondservant lives and still see no results.

As time wore on, it quickly reached the hour of noon.

Under the unrelenting back-and-forth galloping of the Mongol cavalry on both flanks, a good many of the chevaux de frise on the Ming flanks had been dragged away — the barrier line, originally a full two hundred paces wide, now had only a little over a hundred paces left that had not been hauled off.

And the Ming army had no good way to counter this either.

Each time, the Mongol cavalry sent out two to three hundred men, who rode forward in loose formation, then swung their ropes to lasso the chevaux de frise and drag them aside.

Since the riders were spread out as individual targets and constantly on the move, the cannons simply could not fire on single men, and the Ming army could only watch helplessly as the Mongol horsemen showed off their superb riding skills one after another.

When Sun Chuanting and Qin Liangyu, who had already come down from the siege tower to rest, learned of this, they too could not immediately devise a way to break the Qing army's tactic.

Still, the Ming army's main strategic aim was to run out the clock and then seize an opportunity to inflict heavy damage on the Qing forces, so Sun Chuanting did not take this too much to heart — he merely ordered the four thousand White Pole troops in the rear to make ready, standing by to close with the Qing army in hand-to-hand combat at any moment.

After nearly two shichen of labor, the Mongol cavalry finally stopped as well.

Because the drain on their strength had been too great.

Horses could be swapped out, but men needed rest.

Though the Mongol cavalry numbered in the thousands, not every man was a master of lassoing, and with just these few hundred rotating back and forth, they could no longer keep going.

On the vast battlefield where tens of thousands faced off, a rare calm settled between the two armies — the infantry sat on the ground eating and awaiting orders, while the Qing cavalry also unsaddled their horses to let the mounts rest fully.

But everyone understood that this temporary lull would not last long; a great battle was already poised to break out at any moment.

Behind the great formation of the Two Red Banners, which were to lead the assault on the Ming front, Yoto, Dorgon, Abatai, the meiren janggin of each banner, several princes of the Mongol Banners, and the Qing commanders including Jiang Youcheng were gathered in a tent, deliberating over the tactical arrangements for the coming fight.

"The Ming chevaux de frise have been mostly broken apart. Once the horse teams have rested and recovered, we'll put in another push — before dark, we must have every last one of those barriers removed! But at this rate, we won't be able to defeat the Ming army today; we'll have to wait until tomorrow! Prince Rui, what counsel do you have for tomorrow's battle?"

Yoto turned his head to look at Dorgon beside him and asked.

"With our tens of thousands of troops, the many booi bondservants, and the great number of war horses all gathered here, the daily consumption of grain is truly staggering — this battle must be decided swiftly! Relying solely on the horse teams to drag away the chevaux de frise is too slow. Better to send the booi bondservants forward again, split into groups of several dozen men each to dismantle the barriers separately! At that rate, it will take at most a single shichen to finish the job! Then our army launches its attack from three sides at once, and we strive to defeat the Ming army before nightfall!"

Dorgon's opinion made everyone's eyes light up: worthy of the title Prince Rui — truly wise, decisive, and sharp. The others had only thought of using small horse teams to break the barriers, completely overlooking that the booi bondservants could also be dispersed to act on their own.

Yoto and Abatai, while feeling a loss of face, could not help but admire Dorgon in their hearts.

After everyone voiced their agreement with Dorgon's strategy, they each returned to their own formations and began deploying and arranging their forces before the battle.

Dorgon's strategy proved effective, as expected.

Once the booi bondservants went forward in scattered groups to dismantle the chevaux de frise, the barrier line vanished at a speed visible to the naked eye, and before the hour of wei had even arrived, the chevaux de frise had been cleared away completely.

Without orders to do so, the Ming crossbowmen and archers did not open fire on the Qing booi bondservants, instead conserving their strength and arrows in preparation for the life-or-death battle to come.

The season had reached the end of the second month; the bitter north wind had given way to a warm, moist south wind, and in the distant forests a faint tender green was already coming into view.

As the season advanced, the days grew longer and longer — where the sky had once darkened just after the hour of shen, it was now still bright with full daylight, the glaring sun only just slanting toward the southwest with no sign of sinking quickly.

As resounding horns rang out across the open field, tens of thousands of Qing troops began to assemble and form up under the commands of their respective jalan janggin, preparing to launch their attack on the Ming army from the east, west, and north.

Meanwhile, most of the several thousand Mongol Banner cavalry were still resting their heavily depleted mounts, waiting for the critical moment to charge and run down the routed Ming troops.

Under Sun Chuanting's orders, eight thousand White Pole troops spread out in formation on both flanks, while the two thousand Qin army spearmen in the center also formed ranks and stood ready.

A great battle was about to erupt at any moment.