Chapter 59: Coming Here to Die

These Han troops had fought alongside the Qing army for over a decade and were long familiar with Qing tactics — cavalry charging in the vanguard, infantry following to strike.

When the three hundred Han cavalry charged to within a hundred paces of the Yongwei Camp, a burst of gunfire rang out from the camp's formation, followed by a great cloud of white smoke.

These Eight Banner Han troops were nothing but slaves to the Tartars, so naturally their clothing was not as good as that of the Eight Banner Manchu soldiers. The best armor among them was merely a single layer of iron mail; the worst wore tattered leather armor, and some were practically bare-chested.

The moment they entered within a hundred paces, they met the Yongwei Camp's fierce firepower. The several dozen cavalrymen at the very front let out muffled groans as fist-sized bloody holes appeared on each of them without exception, and they tumbled one after another from their horses.

Some Qing soldiers with stronger vitality were not instantly killed; they let out wailing, miserable screams and spun and rolled on the ground like tops.

Yangguli's eyes flew wide with shock. The cavalry had just charged within a hundred paces — they hadn't even reached ninety — so how had they been knocked over by firelocks already? When had this Ming "burning stick" become so formidable?

Of course, Yangguli was merely shocked, not afraid. As a grand imperial son-in-law of the Great Qing and the third-in-command of this campaign against Ming, how could he possibly be intimidated by a Ming army of only a few thousand? Ridiculous!

At Yangguli's command, the Han infantry swiftly charged forward to join the battle. In his eyes, weren't these Han troops just cannon fodder?

These Han soldiers of the Eight Banner Han Army were all Han Chinese who had lived under Jianzhou barbarian rule for over ten years. Most had been seized by the Jianzhou barbarians during their raids into the passes, and their parents, wives, and children all lived under Jianzhou rule.

Therefore, even knowing they were cannon fodder, no one dared to resist — let alone the fact that the Jianzhou barbarians' supervision squads stood behind them. Take a single step back, or even hesitate to advance, and the supervision squad would execute them on the spot.

So they could only grit their teeth and charge forward. Charging up might earn them their lives; hanging back meant certain death.

Zhu Cilang sneered coldly: "These second-rate Tartars, once they go over to the Tartars' side, seem reborn — every one of them suddenly brave enough to outshine the whole army."

Sometimes puppet troops are more detestable than the enemy themselves. Never mind how pitiful and helpless they look now — in peacetime, when they followed the Qing army in slaughtering and looting the Great Ming's common folk, plundering everywhere they went, they were plenty enthusiastic.

The remaining Han cavalrymen desperately spurred their warhorses forward, hoping only to crash into the Ming formation and engage in close combat.

Yet these three hundred cavalrymen were like lambs brought to the slaughter. The Yongwei Camp's musketeers calmly fired, swapped guns, reloaded, swapped again, and fired once more.

After several rounds, the Qing cavalry fell like mown grass — men and horses alike toppled to the ground one after another.

In just a few minutes, the entire cavalry unit was wiped out to the last man, all slain beneath the Yongwei Camp's gunfire. Practically no one managed to get within thirty paces of the camp's formation.

Yangguli could not help but break out in cold sweat all over; his hands and feet trembled uncontrollably. This Ming army's field combat capability before his eyes was simply too terrifying.

Just as Han troops transformed into Qing troops and instantly saw their combat power soar, so too did firelocks become killing implements the moment they fell into the hands of the Ming army opposite. No wonder they had been able to defeat Tamtai's rear force in such a short time.

Could this be the Ming army's main force? Were all the troops in the Ming Capital Camps like this? The thought flashed through Yangguli's mind, and cold sweat poured from him at once.

If the Ming had tens of thousands of troops like these, coordinating with the various garrisons' forces, then their hundred-thousand-strong Eight Banner army would never be able to leave the passes — they would be trapped and starved to death in the Ming capital's surrounding lands.

But when they had attacked Changping, why had these troops not appeared?

The whole affair was fraught with strangeness, hard for Yangguli to comprehend — yet he had no leisure to ponder it.

The Yongwei Camp's firing continued steady and unbroken, waves of smoke drifting across. In the blink of an eye, the Eight Banner Han Army's cavalry was wiped out completely, while at the same time the infantry also entered the Yongwei Camp's firing range — coming forward to die.

The gunfire still did not cease. The soldiers in the front ranks of the Han infantry toppled to the ground one after another. It all happened before the infantrymen's very eyes. Many could finally no longer bear the terror in their hearts and turned to retreat — only to be met by the slaughtering blades of the supervision squads.

A commotion broke out in the Eight Banner Han Army's infantry formation. Those retreating in front collided with the soldiers advancing behind, and soon they were all bunched up in a tangled mass.

A pang of sorrow rose unbidden in Yangguli's heart. Hadn't this sort of situation always happened to the Ming army? How could it be happening to the ever-victorious, mighty Qing host?

Yet in his heart, he still had no intention of retreating — because all the loot and grain the Qing army had plundered along the way was stored in the city. If he withdrew now, it would be tantamount to handing every piece of war booty to the Ming army, and the Regional Commander Ajige would certainly not let him off once he learned of it.

Yangguli finally made up his mind: even at the cost of grievous losses, he would slaughter this Ming force to the last man — and avenge his younger brother Tamtai into the bargain.

"Send the Bordered White Banner's warriors forward! Anyone who retreats will be executed on the spot!" Yangguli ordered in a low voice.

He knew full well that if the rout grew too large, it would collapse the entire army. What was called "a defeated army crumbles like a mountain falling" almost always began with the vanguard.

Every time the Qing army entered the passes, troops were drawn from each banner and placed under the command of the leading general for the campaign, then returned to their respective banner lords afterward. So although Yangguli was a man of the Plain Yellow Banner, he was temporarily commanding a portion of the Bordered White Banner's forces.

Under the Bordered White Banner Manchu soldiers' savage suppression, the Eight Banner Han troops in the vanguard finally steadied somewhat and continued pressing forward through the hail of lead shot.

Seeing the situation improve, Yangguli ordered another advance — the entire army would attack and utterly annihilate this Ming force.

Yangguli had originally had twelve thousand men. Tamtai's force had lost three thousand, and the Han troops had lost nearly a thousand more, leaving only eight thousand to launch the assault on the Yongwei Camp.

By this time, the Han troops in the front ranks were essentially all dead. A squad of shield bearers from the Bordered White Banner stepped to the fore, holding shields several feet tall.

Some iron shields had formidable protective power. When the Yongwei Camp's lead shot struck the Qing soldiers' thick iron shields, the impact points caved in deeply — yet the shields were neither broken nor pierced.

But not all Qing shield bearers carried iron shields. More carried shields of hardwood wrapped in leather, and these could not stop the Yongwei Camp's muskets at all — they were split and shattered by the lead shot one after another.

Under the cover of the Qing iron shields, the Qing soldiers pressed steadily forward, while the several thousand troops behind also closed in step by step, their momentum overwhelming.

"Boom!"

Suddenly, thunderous detonations rang out from the rear of the Yongwei Camp's formation, and volley after volley of cannonballs screamed down the hillside into the Qing ranks below.

Amid the shrieking whistles, several dozen scorching iron balls weighing several jin each tore bloody swaths straight through the Qing formation, while the dozen or so smaller shot fired alongside them scattered in every direction — Qing soldiers screamed and tumbled to the ground one after another.