Chapter 90: Thousand-Li Thunder Raid

"Spare me, General Liu!"

Squire Zhou, clad in a green silk robe, trembled and begged ceaselessly. Besides a few concubines and servants brought along with him, most of those being escorted were his own sons and grandsons.

"You old bastard, trying to stall for time?"

Liu Fangliang said nothing more, stepped forward and ran Zhou's eldest son through, then pressed his blade against the neck of Squire Zhou's favorite concubine, roaring savagely:

"Speak up now! Or I'll slaughter your whole family!"

Squire Zhou cried out in misery and collapsed to the ground. In the end, it was the old camp soldiers who dragged him to find the secret passage out of the city. Liu Fangliang hastily ordered the old camp soldiers to flee, having no mind to put up any resistance.

Though called a secret passage, it was in truth a tunnel the great households of military pay and provisions used to transport goods out of the city. The Zhou family had some dealings with the Fan family of Zhangjiakou, also trading beyond the passes, shipping goods from within the passes to the Tartars.

In these times, any merchant of standing did business with the Tartars beyond the passes — after all, the court was clearly on its last legs, and the roving bandits were eyeing their property, so naturally they needed to keep an escape route.

Because it had to carry all manner of supplies to the Qing, the passage had been built especially large. Squire Zhou had the local officials bought off, so the tunnel was an open secret among the city's merchants.

Of course, there was no need to let the military men know of such things. The civil officials who did know had all taken Squire Zhou's silver, and having thrown in with the roving bandits in the city days ago, in this time of great chaos, no one knew where they had all run off to.

Liu Fangliang knew not everyone could escape, so he reluctantly left behind three-tenths of his camp soldiers, abandoning even those leaders who were dead drunk, and led the rest into the tunnel without looking back.

Half an incense stick after the last old camp soldier entered the tunnel, Huang Degong finally arrived with his officers and men. After a brief skirmish, eight-tenths of the bandits left in the city were terrified out of their wits and threw down their weapons in surrender.

Within an hour, Liu Fangliang emerged with over ten thousand old camp soldiers at a dilapidated village about three li east of the city. The village was somewhat strange — it looked as though a large force of troops had been stationed there not long ago.

But Liu Fangliang didn't think much of it. The government army would naturally need a gathering point before besieging military pay and provisions — this was only normal.

"Damned government dogs! Wait until I return to Zhuozhou to rally my troops, then we'll settle old and new scores together!"

Liu Fangliang cast one last look toward military pay and provisions and was about to order the old camp to withdraw to Zhuozhou for rest, when suddenly the earth began to tremble.

"Rumble, rumble, rumble—"

In the darkness spread dust and smoke the bandits could not see through. A cavalry force of unknown number suddenly appeared before the ten-thousand-strong Dashun old camp soldiers. Liu Fangliang's face went pale with shock — could that old bastard surnamed Zhou have set them up?

But listening closely, the sound of hooves was overwhelming, as if ten thousand riders were thundering toward them.

Even the court's central plains army sometimes rode mules into battle. Liu Fangliang couldn't believe it — since when were there this many cavalry? Could it be the Guanning army, or even a Prince!?

The leader of this cavalry wore his hair in a money-rat tail at the back of his head, wielded a heavy saber, and his voice rang out like thunder. Beneath him were actually three mounts — at this sight, Liu Fangliang's face turned extremely ugly.

"Hahaha, kill the Ming dogs, kill the Ming dogs!"

Suddenly, a shout in a mixture of Chinese and Manchu rang out. Liu Fangliang saw clearly the cavalry's dress and formation, and all hope vanished from his heart — that shout had just confirmed what he had been thinking.

"The Tartars are here!"

"The Tartars are here, everyone run!"

Even the bandits' old camp soldiers had only heard of the Tartars' fearsome reputation — that ten thousand of them were unstoppable. Such battles seemed far from them in their experience; they had never once fought the Qing army.

The enemy was entirely cavalry of unknown number, and their charge made the very ground tremble. Meanwhile, they themselves were infantry who had just fled in disgrace from the Ming army, thinking only of escaping back to Zhuozhou — their will to fight was long gone.

Since ancient times, when infantry met cavalry, unless they outnumbered the enemy several times over, it was almost always a mere slaughter.

But at this moment, Liu Fangliang neither knew the Qing army's exact numbers nor had he ever fought them — he knew nothing of the Tartars' capabilities. Fighting like this, Dashun was certain to lose.

Though Liu Fangliang knew they could not win, the enemy was clearly all cavalry. If they fled, they would only scatter and collapse — better to have a real fight with true blades and spears!

Hearing Liu Fangliang's order, the old camp soldiers snapped back to their senses. They were veterans of many battles, and after a simple reorganization, they quickly gathered back into their circular formation.

"Kill! Warriors of the Plain Blue Banner, follow me, Abatai, to slaughter the Ming dogs to the last — show the Prince Regent what we can do!"

"Wuhah, giddyup!"

Abatai looked at the Ming army several times his own number before him, yet showed not a trace of fear, as if all he saw were already dead men.

Earlier, the Qing army camp had received word that a sizable Ming force was stationed at Huangcun. This time, Dorgon had sent Abatai to harass them — scattering this Ming army in fright would be the best outcome.

Even if he couldn't manage that, he would shatter whatever courage the Ming army had barely mustered in a single battle. Then the Great Qing's entry into the Central Plains would be within reach!

"Rao Yu Prince, these Ming troops seem different from what Grand Secretary Fan described... those two characters on their chests..."

The niru janggin hadn't finished speaking before the self-satisfied Abatai cut him off. He sneered a few times, looking at the ten-thousand-strong force huddled together before him, too afraid to move, and said:

"Who else could be here besides the Ming army? Don't forget, Li Zicheng is still trapped in Shanxi and can't get out. This capital region belongs to the hooves of our Qing iron cavalry alone!"

With that, Abatai raised his heavy blade horizontally in the air and roared:

"Kill one Ming dog, and this Prince rewards two promotions!"

"This slave thanks the Prince for his generous reward!"

In the Qing, promotions were like military merit — indeed, in the eyes of the Qing soldiers, promotions were even more important than merit. Hearing such a magnificent reward, the Plain Blue Banner Tartar cavalry all howled without cease and charged forward with an air of contempt for everything.

Abatai's three thousand Qing troops and Liu Fangliang's ten-thousand-strong Dashun old camp soldiers met by accident. Abatai didn't even know who they were before directly ordering a full-scale assault.

The Qing army drove into the Dashun circular formation like a wedge. In an instant, the Dashun formation was utterly torn apart, and screams even drowned out the Qing army's war cries.

The two sides were in contact for about an hour. The Dashun army went from partial collapse to total collapse; countless bandits fled in all directions beyond control, and even a small number, hoping for mercy, offered up their weapons and raised their hands in surrender.

But the Qing army paid them no mind. Whether they resisted or surrendered, anyone still alive was cut down with a single stroke as they rode past — they left no survivors at all.

Liu Fangliang had just crossed blades with two Tartar cavalrymen — whether ordinary soldiers or some Company Commander he couldn't tell — but the fighting was exhausting. If even killing a single Qing soldier was this difficult for him, it was even worse for everyone else.

These Qing soldiers, whether common troops or low-ranking officers, each wore two or three layers of iron armor on both body and mount. By comparison, the Dashun old camp soldiers, whose equipment was even worse than the government army's, counted for nothing at all.