Chapter 110: Joining Forces at Tongzhou

After two hours of brutal fighting, gunfire in the city grew increasingly sparse. Of the five thousand Qing troops in the city, more than half had been wiped out. A Dun led two thousand remnants fleeing through the West Gate, dragging along over ten thousand civilians.

As the Yongwei Camp and the Shenshu Camp pursued in hot pursuit, A Dun and his two thousand Qing troops hid among the civilians, dodging the Yongwei Camp's muskets and the Shenshu Camp cavalry's slashing. The Shenshu Camp cavalry, relying on their mobility, cut off their retreat.

"Let us withdraw now, or we'll kill these civilians!" a Qing officer shouted in threat.

The Yongwei Camp and the Shenshu Camp halted their attacks. As government troops, they dared not recklessly shoot civilians. Everyone burned with rage, cursing the Tartars' shamelessness under their breath.

Before long, Zhu Cilang rode up and said to a messenger: "Tell the Tartars that we are withdrawing our troops and they should release the civilians. If they refuse, there is only one road left for them — death!"

The Qing troops shouted back: "Let us take these civilians ten li first! After ten li, we'll release them! You are not allowed to follow!"

Zhu Cilang furrowed his brow and said: "Five li at most. Our army withdraws to Miyun City. This prince will not pursue!"

The messenger quickly relayed Zhu Cilang's intent to the Qing army. A Dun was equally agreeable and accepted on the spot — five li was more than enough for them to make their escape.

Once both sides reached an agreement, Zhu Cilang ordered the entire army to withdraw to Miyun City. Watching the Ming army pull back, A Dun immediately led his remnants toward the mountains — a mountain path leading beyond the pass, flanked by mountains on both sides. Though it led out of the pass, travel was arduous.

After dragging the civilians along for five li, the Qing troops directly cast off the civilians who were slowing them down and sped up toward the pass. The seized civilians, seeing the Tartars flee, also turned around and ran back toward Miyun City.

Miyun City, in the main hall of the prefectural office.

"Your Highness! We just let this band of Tartars go like that?" Huang Degong was furious.

Zhang Shize sighed: "His Highness has already spoken. One must uphold one's word."

Zhu Cilang glanced at Zhang Shize and said flatly: "Do beasts deserve to have one's word kept with them?"

Zhang Shize was stunned for a moment, then clasped his fists and immediately ran out. As he ran, he shouted to the Shenshu Camp: "Shenshu Camp, full assembly! Follow me in pursuit of the Tartars!"

The sounds of men shouting and horses neighing immediately rose in Miyun City, followed by the rumbling thunder of iron hooves fading into the distance.

Zhu Cilang accepted the fruit that Wu Zhong brought over. After tasting a piece, he said flatly: "In such hot weather, why would Zhang Shize go out hunting for no reason?"

The assembled generals in the hall were all left speechless, inwardly remarking that the Crown Prince, young as he was, had a remarkably thick skin.

An hour later, the Shenshu Camp's several thousand cavalry finally caught up with the fleeing Tartars at Dashi Ridge. The moment they met, they mercilessly charged and slaughtered the Tartar remnants.

The Tartar infantry, having run for an hour in the scorching heat, were already exhausted and could not withstand the Shenshu Camp cavalry's charge. The Tartars' few hundred cavalrymen still had some spirit and fought back desperately, but in the end they were outnumbered and were surrounded and annihilated by the Shenshu Camp.

A Dun, a First-Class Mele Zhangjing, was bound and dragged back to Miyun City. The moment he saw Zhu Cilang, already reduced to a beggar's state from being dragged, he shouted furiously: "Crown Prince of the Ming! Why did you break your promise and send men to pursue us?"

Zhu Cilang said in surprise: "Send men to pursue? When did that happen? This prince never gave such an order!"

Watching the Ming Crown Prince's innocent expression, A Dun almost believed him. He roared in rage: "If you didn't order the pursuit, how did I end up here?"

"How did he get here?" Zhu Cilang asked Zhang Shize with an even more bewildered expression.

Zhang Shize smiled: "This old Jianzhou barbarian followed us all the way back on his own. It must have been voluntary!"

A Dun was livid with fury: "Barbarians! You pack of southern savages, utterly shameless!"

Huang Degong pointed at A Dun and roared: "Shameless? You old bastard, you still have the nerve to talk about shamelessness! Did you or did you not kill the civilians of Shunyi? Did you or did you not abduct them?"

A Dun was rendered speechless by his words, but still refused to concede. He snorted and turned his head away, deeply defiant.

Seeing this old bastard's smug demeanor, Huang Degong was displeased. He rolled up his sleeves and said: "I hear you're some kind of Baturu of the Jianzhou barbarians? Come, come! Let me spar with you and see just how formidable this damn Baturu of yours really is!"

A Dun's face turned ashen, extremely ugly. Huang Degong, meanwhile, looked at him with a sidelong glance, a contemptuous cold smile hanging on his face.

A Dun finally exploded completely. Being granted the title of Baturu was his honor, and he would not tolerate its insult. Eyes bloodshot, he roared and lunged at Huang Degong.

Huang Degong swept at the charging A Dun — a whirlwind-like right leg slammed heavily into A Dun's shoulder. With a bang, A Dun's body crashed heavily to the ground, spraying a mouthful of fresh blood.

"Good!" The assembled officers watching the spectacle cheered.

Huang Degong was an arrogant man. He looked down with a sidelong glance, sneering coldly at A Dun.

A Dun lay on the ground and took a long while to recover. He roared, leaped up, and threw a punch at Huang Degong, but Huang Degong grabbed his arm and yanked him forward, then seized the opportunity to deliver an elbow strike that sent A Dun spitting out two more mouthfuls of old blood before he staggered and collapsed to the ground.

Huang Degong spat and said: "Damn Baturu! Not even as good as the old woodcutter back in my hometown!"

A Dun lay on the ground, tremblingly raising a finger to point at Huang Degong, as if wanting to say something, but in the end his face flushed red and he died without uttering a single word.

Everyone burst into laughter. Only Zhang Shize was somewhat exasperated, thinking to himself: "What now? Whose military merit does this old bastard count as?"

After recovering Miyun, Zhu Cilang had people comfort the city's civilians and tally the captured supplies. The stockpiled goods in Miyun City were too numerous — many civilians from Shunyi and Huairou had been abducted and concentrated here, requiring considerable effort to sort out.

On the twenty-fifth day of the eighth month, Abatai at Pinggu, having failed to take Shunyi and unable to aid Miyun, turned to besiege Jizhou. Yutian's garrison troops arrived in time to relieve the siege of Jizhou.

Upon learning of this, Zhu Cilang ordered Lu Jiude to lead two thousand men of the Yongwei Camp to hold Miyun, while he himself led the main army south in haste to Tongzhou to rendezvous with the various relief forces.

The Qing troops near Tongzhou were not numerous, making it relatively safe. Upon receiving the orders, the various Regional Commanders did not delay and all advanced toward Tongzhou.

By the twenty-sixth day of the eighth month, the various royal relief armies had arrived at Tongzhou one after another. Tens of thousands of troops were spread across an area of over ten li around Tongzhou — banners fluttering, camp tents connected, shoulder to shoulder — the atmosphere thick with the tension of war.

This kind of war atmosphere looked impressive, but in truth it was merely a matter of having many troops.

On Tongzhou's spacious streets, drunken Ming soldiers were everywhere. These Ming troops in motley-colored armor came from the various northern garrisons — Xuanfu, Datong, Liaodong, Shandong — wandering about in groups of three or five.

The city's civilians barely dared step outside their doors, worried about harassment from the troops. The merchants, however, were beaming with joy — with so many soldiers suddenly arriving, business had picked up considerably.

In Tongzhou city, every street was in chaos. Groups of dead-drunk border troops cursed and grumbled. From the taverns lining the streets, the clamor of finger-guessing games and drinking rose and fell. The tavern owners carefully attended to these military lords, coming and going with trepidation.

The Shenji Camp advanced slowly along the road, hauling their cannons. Zhu Cilang had the Yongwei Camp and the Shenshu Camp escort the Shenji Camp along the way, while he himself entered Tongzhou City ahead of them with Huang Degong, Sun Yingyuan, Xu Sheng, and others.

When he saw the slovenly state of these border troops in the city, he could not help furrowing his brow. The joint operations plan he had been considering in his mind began to waver.

Huang Degong and the others also sighed. The Great Ming's most elite border troops were now far inferior to the Yongwei Camp. An army without discipline was like a walking corpse — no matter how formidable it appeared on the surface, it was useless.

Zhu Cilang made a full circuit of the city and began to feel weary, so he found a tavern that looked somewhat upscale and rested there for a while.

The tavern was packed with people — all soldiers, every one of them drinking until their faces were red and their necks swollen, glaring with bloodshot eyes, sleeves rolled up, feet propped on benches as they played finger-guessing games and shouted orders. Cheers and curses rang out without end.

Among the Great Ming's armies, in terms of fine and splendid armor, the Capital Camps ranked first without question, followed by the Nine Border Garrisons. Among the Nine Border Garrisons, the Liaodong garrisons were the finest, while the troops of the central hinterland were the worst, their armor crude and shabby.

Thus, when Zhu Cilang and his party entered, the tavern's original clamor dropped considerably. Quite a few soldiers glared with bloodshot eyes at Zhu Cilang and his companions.

Huang Degong and the others wore gleaming, resplendent armor — though it was merely the standard uniform of ordinary Yongwei Camp soldiers, it still stood out sharply among the rabble of troops, especially the several soldiers holding muskets behind Zhu Cilang.

Most of the soldiers in the tavern were uneducated men temporarily transferred from the various northern garrisons. They had seen little of the world, and since the armor of each of the Nine Border Garrisons differed slightly, few could recognize which army Huang Degong and his men belonged to.

The tavern owner hurried over, bowing and nodding: "Gentlemen... greetings, Commanders."

Having run a tavern for years, the owner had seen all sorts of people and possessed keen insight — a shrewd character. He had initially meant to address them as "military lords," but seeing that Zhu Cilang's party was dressed in no ordinary fashion, he immediately changed his address to "Commanders."

It wasn't just the owner who thought this — many soldiers present thought the same. Dressed as they were, with extraordinary bearing, these men were at minimum Battalion Commanders, perhaps even generals!

Huang Degong boomed: "Haven't made Regional Commander yet! Go get twenty catties of beef, bring out a few signature dishes, and fetch a jug of wine." With that, he tossed a ten-tael ingot of silver onto the table beside him.

The proprietor took the silver with a face full of smiles, wiping the table with his sleeve as he said, "For the master to dine in my humble shop is truly my good fortune."

Upstairs and downstairs was a clamor, the entire tavern filled with the din of soldiers. Zhu Cilang shook his head and sighed—in the final years of the dynasty, the Great Ming scarcely had a single army worth fielding.