Chapter 49: First Battle

Zhu Cilang dared to execute the Duke of Cheng, Zhu Chunchen, naturally because he had ample justification—the crime of abandoning the city and fleeing was alone enough to convict him.

If that weren't enough, add the account books of embezzlement; if several hundred thousand taels of silver were also found in his mansion, Chongzhen would certainly not let him off.

Zhu Cilang looked at Zhang Zhiji and said, "Duke of Ying, I know that every generation of your Duke of Ying line has been utterly loyal, so from this moment on, the defense of the capital is placed entirely in your hands!"

"Your Highness, then what about you..." Zhang Zhiji couldn't understand what kind of strange move Zhu Cilang was making—executing a man and then handing over the great authority to him? Was he planning to flee and leave him holding the bag? But it seemed this blame couldn't be shifted onto him either.

"Open the city gates—I am leading the army out to battle!"

"This..." Zhang Zhiji looked at the murderous eyes of Zhu Cilang, wisely chose not to argue further, and hastily ordered the gates opened.

Zhu Cilang had no intention of making Zhang Zhiji take the blame for anything; he genuinely thought highly of the Duke of Ying line—every generation of Ming dynasty Dukes of Ying had been fine men.

The first Duke of Ying, Zhang Fu, joined the Jingnan Campaign at a young age alongside his father, later pacified Annam three times and destroyed Vietnam, and thrice followed the Yongle Emperor on northern campaigns against the Mongols. His fame was formidable—he was the most dazzling military star of the early Ming.

The subsequent generations of Dukes of Ying were almost all extraordinarily capable, commanding heavy troops while keeping a low profile and remaining loyal to the Emperor. No matter how fierce the factional strife at court, virtually no one dared to provoke the Duke of Ying.

Even during the eras when Liu Jin and Wei Zhongxian held power, though they both deeply detested the then-Duke of Ying, they never dared to make a move against him and quietly backed down.

By the eighth Duke of Ying—Zhang Zhiji's generation—the Duke of Ying line could hardly accomplish anything in these perilous times, and the ninth Duke of Ying could do nothing at all, directly accompanying the Chongzhen Emperor in martyrdom.

Zhu Cilang wanted to place the authority over the Capital Camps back into the hands of the Duke of Ying line, to see whether they could still reorganize the Capital Camps. Of course, even the worst outcome would be better than the useless capitulationist Zhu Chunchen!

In the end, Zhu Cilang gave up his illusions about the Capital Camps and personally led five thousand men of the Yongwei Camp out through the Xizhi Gate, heading west. Seeing that an army dared to leave the city and fight, many soldiers of the Capital Camps were shaken inwardly, finding it utterly inconceivable.

The moment Zhu Cilang left the city, Zhang Zhiji immediately sent men racing to the imperial palace to report that the Crown Prince had led troops out of the city.

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Zhu Cilang rode atop a white steed; behind him, several thousand soldiers of the Yongwei Camp followed closely in utter silence.

Zhu Cilang suddenly reined in his horse and turned his head sharply, gazing at the majestic city of Beijing behind him, a look of deep emotion in his eyes.

This city, which later generations would call "the greatest individual work of humanity on the surface of the earth," represented the highest achievement of ancient Chinese urban planning—and he was finally seeing its true face from the outside for the first time. It was magnificent!

Zhu Cilang turned back around, raised his horsewhip, and shouted: "Move out!"

Outside Beijing, the land was mostly plains with fertile soil. Originally, villages and towns had been densely scattered, the scenery elegant, lush and verdant, with the common people living in peace and prosperity.

But now, after the looting by the Qing army, the villages and towns were already a scene of devastation, utter chaos, with nine homes out of ten left empty.

Some villages still blazed with fierce fires; in other places, the flames had consumed everything, leaving only smoldering ruins with wisps of green smoke rising.

When Zhu Cilang led his army there, a crowd of terrified commoners, supporting the elderly and leading the young, were just about to flee into the capital. When they saw the several-thousand-strong army, many eyes showed fear, and they kept far away from the Yongwei Camp.

Zhu Cilang didn't understand why the commoners were acting this way—until he entered a small town and saw certain scenes before his eyes, and only then did he finally understand.

After the Qing soldiers took Changping, they had chased after the routed Ming troops all the way. Some Ming soldiers, after fleeing, hid in the homes of commoners. Though they had fled in panic at the sight of the Qing troops, when they encountered refugees they turned as fierce as wolves and tigers, raping and looting everywhere—no better than the Qing soldiers.

"No ability to kill the Jianzhou barbarians, but harming your own people comes as easy as reaching into your pocket—what use has the dynasty for feeding you?" Zhu Cilang flew into a rage at the sight and sent out cavalry to cut down every routed soldier they encountered who was plundering the common people.

Along the way, the Yongwei Camp did not advance quickly. Zhu Cilang had not yet received word from the Longxiang Night Scouts. Though he had intelligence from the Embroidered Uniform Guard, he wanted to consolidate information from both sides to ascertain the situation of the Qing army.

After traveling about ten li out from the Xizhi Gate, Zhu Cilang spotted through his telescope several hundred cavalry ahead chasing more than twenty riders.

Those cavalry in the rear wore cotton armor studded with thick copper nails, leather helmets, and tall protruding helmet spikes—clearly Qing cavalry. The twenty-odd riders being chased ahead wore plain hemp clothing, their identities impossible to discern.

By the time Zhu Cilang lowered his telescope, both groups had already drawn considerably closer, and everyone could now make out their figures clearly. At the front of the Yongwei Camp's formation, row upon row of dark gun muzzles were uniformly aimed in the direction from which the two groups were approaching, standing in strict readiness.

At this moment, the two groups drew nearer and nearer, almost about to enter firing range. Zhu Cilang signaled a musketeer to fire a warning shot into the air, reminding the fleeing riders not to run into the formation.

The fleeing group had long since spotted them and also recognized the banners of the army before them. Then one of them made a distinctive flag signal—Zhu Cilang recognized it at once as the unique flag signal of the Longxiang Night Scouts.

So the Night Scouts had been entangled by the Qing cavalry—no wonder no word had come from them for so long. Zhu Cilang ordered flag signals sent, telling the Night Scouts' riders to circle around both flanks of the Yongwei Camp to the rear. Upon seeing the signal, the Night Scouts immediately split into two groups and galloped off to either side.

By then, the pursuing Qing cavalry also saw the Yongwei Camp ahead with muskets raised. Though the Ming troops were numerous and wielded firearms, the Qing soldiers had long been accustomed to arrogance and utterly disregarded the Ming army before them.

They had slaughtered their way here without fighting a single hard battle—tens of thousands of Ming troops collapsed the instant they saw them charge—and the Ming muskets were a joke, useless after a single volley.

Therefore, this group of Qing soldiers felt no fear at all and spurred their horses charging toward the Yongwei Camp's position. Many drew their bows and nocked arrows, preparing to loose a volley at the Ming troops once they entered range.

When the Qing cavalry entered the range of one hundred paces, Huang Degong immediately bellowed: "Fire!"

Several hundred muskets in the Yongwei Camp's first rank erupted with a tremendous roar simultaneously, the air itself trembling from the shock, and a great cloud of thick smoke rapidly billowed forth.

The Qing riders charging boldly forward suddenly heard the thunderous blast, followed by a cacophony of screaming men and shrieking horses.

Among the several dozen riders in the front rank, some were struck and pitched headlong off the horses' rumps, others were blasted flying backward off their saddles, and still more tumbled to the ground—not yet dead, writhing in agony on the earth.

The Qing cavalry in the rear ranks were greatly shocked at the sight. A few Qing soldiers with excellent horsemanship managed to control their terrified mounts, which had reared up with forelegs raised high, and somehow kept themselves from being thrown off.

The niru captain leading at the front and the standard-bearer beside him were the most unfortunate—their banner was so conspicuous that the Yongwei Camp gave them special attention.

Though every one of them wore cotton armor and iron-plate armor over chainmail, and even their warhorses were draped in cotton armor, after a single volley from the Yongwei Camp they were shot through like sieves.

The several white-armor soldiers following behind the niru captain watched their leaders shot down from their horses and were filled with terror, unable to understand what kind of musket the Ming troops had that possessed such power—able to pierce three layers of heavy armor at around eighty paces.

Before they could ponder further, gunfire rang out again from the opposing side. The horsemen, battle soldiers, and support troops in the rear ranks wore thinner armor that could not possibly withstand the fierce musket fire—men and horses were knocked over in droves, lying strewn about in every direction.

The Yongwei Camp's musketeers fired rank after rank, continuing through five or six volleys, until this one niru of Qing cavalry was nearly wiped out to the last man, with only five or six survivors remaining.

How could they dare to charge any longer? They immediately lost their nerve, gave full play to their horsemanship, and miraculously wheeled their horses around at high speed, desperate to flee the battlefield.

But it was already too late—the Yongwei Camp's musketeers continued calmly reloading powder and shot, firing according to the rhythm of command.

After two more volleys, the fleeing Qing cavalry were picked off one by one and knocked from their horses. The entire battle lasted only a few minutes—the whole niru of Qing soldiers was annihilated, not a single one escaping.