Chapter 122: Forcing the Show-Off

The Qing army's assault on the new city grew ever more ferocious. Especially after the cannons atop the walls had cooled, large numbers of Qing soldiers piled up at the base of the walls, waiting for scaling ladders to climb, while those standing a bit farther back drew their bows and loosed arrows at the Ming troops on the walls.

Sun Yingyuan watched the Qing offensive grow ever fiercer, yet he merely smiled and said to the several Yongwei Camp officers around him: "The Tartars have really staked their all this time. We've had our fun—now let's start collecting heads!"

One of the Mobile Corps Commanders in the Yongwei Camp understood the intent, and said to the messenger beside him: "Prepare the grenades!"

As the messenger relayed the order, squad after squad of soldiers came up from below the city, carrying dozens of large wooden crates up onto the walls.

These soldiers swiftly distributed the grenades to the defenders on the wall, and each man was also given a lump of rosin.

The soldiers of the Yongwei Camp lit the rosin, then expertly ignited the fuses of the grenades, and casually tossed them down over the wall. Some soldiers who were fond of showing off didn't even look—they just flung them over the battlements from a distance.

In just a few breaths' time, a continuous series of tremendous explosions sounded from below the walls, mixed with many screams of agony. Then great clouds of smoke billowed up, obscuring the scene at the foot of the walls.

The soldiers on the walls continued lighting grenades and throwing them down, the whole motion flowing in one smooth sequence, as if they were setting off firecrackers, smiles still spreading across their faces. They only stopped after each man had thrown five grenades.

The explosions ceased, but the screams did not. A crowd of Tartars who had been lucky enough to survive the blasts were either crippled or maimed, writhing on the ground clutching their wounds and howling.

The smoke from the explosions was too thick and heavy, blanketing the entire southern wall of the new city. One could see no more than four or five paces ahead. Some quick-witted Qing soldiers took advantage of the haze to creep stealthily forward.

But what made them feel despair was that Ming soldiers on the walls were already there, holding spears or arquebuses, grinning at them—and after that grin, they struck without the slightest mercy.

In the main Qing formation, upon hearing the series of explosions and seeing the entire wall shrouded in thick smoke, Yangguli and Bohetuo exchanged glances, a sense of foreboding rising in both their hearts.

Zhu Cilang, sipping tea atop the drum tower, heard the commotion at the south gate and could not help but smile faintly. These foolish Tartars—did they really think I was defending the city because I was afraid? I only hope you don't retreat too quickly!

The thick smoke gradually dispersed, and the scene by the walls slowly became clear. The soldiers of the new camp then discovered that at the foot of the walls, corpses lay strewn in every direction, piled thick—at least two to three thousand of them.

Of the Qing army's scaling-ladder carts used for the assault, some had been blasted into splinters, others had caught fire—nearly half had been destroyed. Though a few reckless Qing soldiers still pressed their attack on the walls, their courage was already broken.

Gazing from afar at the heaped Qing corpses beneath the walls, Yangguli's heart was bleeding. This was not the first time he had suffered losses from these things. Many of those soldiers who had died were Manchu warriors—and now they were simply gone.

"Imperial Son-in-law, perhaps we should pull back?" said Bohetuo. The losses from this assault were too grievous—even he, an outsider, could hardly bear to watch.

Yangguli said: "The city must fall today. Once I breach these walls, I will not sheathe my blade for ten days—I will slaughter them so thoroughly that not even a dog or chicken remains!"

Bohetuo hesitated, then said: "Imperial Son-in-law, if we keep fighting like this, how many more men must we feed into the meat grinder?"

Yangguli shot him a glance and said: "Don't be a coward—just fight!"

Bohetuo secretly breathed a sigh of relief inside—he had been afraid this Imperial Son-in-law might suddenly lose his nerve and call off the attack. At the same time, he curled his lip and laughed inwardly: this campaign against Ming, you've lost so many warriors—let's see how you still show off in front of Eighth Uncle (Hong Taiji) when you return.

There is a kind of behavior called forcing yourself to show off—only you know the bitterness within. Yangguli immediately gave the order for the first wave of attacking troops to withdraw, and for the second wave of reserves to move up and continue the assault!

Watching the Qing soldiers supporting their wounded and carrying their dead as they retreated in utter disarray, the soldiers of the new camp on the walls burst into loud laughter.

"How tragic!" some soldiers exclaimed in spite of themselves after craning their necks to look at the carnage below.

Many were experiencing such a bloody scene for the first time. As the stench of blood wafted up to the walls, the cheers of the new camp soldiers gradually died down, and many began to vomit—vomiting until even their bile came up.

"Not good! The Tartars are attacking again!" a soldier cried out in alarm, pointing at the surging Qing forces.

Everyone looked into the distance—and sure enough, large numbers of Qing troops were advancing once more with shield carts and scaling ladders.

The new camp's musketeers, gauging the distance of the Qing advance, opened fire, hammering the second wave of Qing assault troops mercilessly.

Braving the fierce fire from the walls, the Qing army left many corpses along the way, but in the end they once again reached the foot of the walls, set up their scaling ladders, and launched another assault on the city.

The moment Sun Yingyuan saw the Qing troops massing below the walls again, he could not help but roar with laughter: "It seems the lesson just now wasn't enough! You still dare to pack yourselves so densely beneath the walls—you're simply asking to die! Pass the order: keep serving them grenades, five per man as before."

With Sun Yingyuan's order relayed, the soldiers once again lit their fuses and hurled grenades down to the foot of the walls.

Beneath the walls, another series of earth-shattering explosions rang out—even atop the walls, one could feel the very ground tremble.

Hearing the sound, Yangguli's face twitched. He had harbored a sliver of hope that the Ming army's fire weapons had been exhausted—that was the only reason he had dared to put on a show of bravado and order the assault to continue.

The cruel scene from before repeated itself. The attacking Qing soldiers were blown into utter chaos; the foot of the walls was a scene of devastation too horrible to behold.

Yangguli's heart was bleeding, his guts twisted with regret, his thighs slapped raw—if only he had known, he would never have put on that act.

No matter how brave the Qing assault troops usually were, at this moment they were scared out of their wits. Without even waiting for the main formation to issue the order to retreat, they pulled back on their own, abandoning even their fallen comrades' corpses and wounded.

Seeing the attacking Qing troops gradually falling back, Bohetuo spurred his horse forward a few paces and raised his horsewhip, shouting: "No retreat! Get back to the assault! Where's the supervision squad? Anyone who dares take another step back will be executed on the spot!"

The supervision squad had just been about to go forward and start cutting men down when they heard the signal to sound the retreat coming from behind. Bohetuo flew into a rage, wheeled his horse around, and demanded: "Who ordered the retreat? Get back up there, damn it!"

Yangguli rode forward and said: "Beile, it was I who gave the order."

Bohetuo was taken aback for a moment, then said in confusion: "Imperial Son-in-law, why did you sound the retreat? Just now you said—don't be a coward, just fight! So keep fighting!"

Yangguli's expression darkened slightly, and he thought to himself: Fight your mother! It's not your Plain Blue Banner men who are dying!

Bohetuo continued: "Imperial Son-in-law, the warriors of our Great Qing have never failed to take what we attack, never lost a battle we fought. Today we are stopped by this paltry new city—where does the honor of our Great Qing stand?"

Yangguli said with displeasure: "Enough. If we keep attacking, we will only be sacrificing the warriors of our Great Qing in vain. Do not forget what the Emperor instructed before we set out on this campaign—if we encounter a city too difficult to take, we must not assault it stubbornly, lest we waste our strength needlessly.

In this campaign, our Great Qing has entered the pass to punish Ming, conquering twelve prefectures and counties within the Ming capital's borders, winning victory in all fifty-eight engagements, and capturing over a hundred thousand prisoners—this is already a great triumph. Even if we cannot take this new city, it does no damage to the honor of our Great Qing!"

Though Bohetuo was still somewhat unconvinced, there was nothing he could do. Yangguli was the third-ranking figure in this campaign against Ming, the old Khan's son-in-law, and Hong Taiji's maternal uncle—by any measure an elder to Bohetuo. He could not openly vent his anger at Yangguli.

Bohetuo could only suppress his rage and said in a muffled voice: "It's a pity we didn't kill the Ming crown prince—such a great merit, wasted!"

Yangguli suddenly became like a kindly elder, comforting Bohetuo: "This time our Great Qing sent out its army only to seize Ming's population and wealth, to drain Ming's national strength. When our Great Qing once again marches south in the future to seize the entire Ming realm, what is a single Ming crown prince or one paltry new city worth mentioning?"

Hearing this, Bohetuo could only nod in agreement. What else could he do? He certainly couldn't send his own Plain Blue Banner men to be fed into the grinder, could he? Sound the retreat and go home!

Apologies—the name of the imperial garden in Chapters 77 and 78 was incorrect. In the Ming dynasty it should have been called the Rear Palace Garden; it was only renamed the Imperial Garden during the Yongzheng reign of the Qing.

Thank you to fellow reader 【Chasing the Years Like Water, One Life One World】 for the correction!