Chapter 183: Storm Brewing in the Mountains

The third year of the Chongzhen reign, ninth day of the sixth month, fourth watch of the night.

The sky was pitch-black; even the moon had vanished.

The troops of Lion Camp's six posts lit torches and mustered at a desolate village inn along the narrow official road of Yellow Dragon Mountain.

Liu Chengzong stood on a rooftop, surveying the great banners along the winding mountain road and directing each post's position in the marching column.

He had only one chance: to chase He Huchen and punch straight through this mountain official road.

According to Li Laochai's intelligence, the official road through Yellow Dragon Mountain was narrower than the one at Ziwu Ridge — the road was wider at both the east and west ends near Fuzhou and Yichuan, but the further in one went, the more desolate it became, and the road grew narrower and narrower.

At its narrowest point, counting the dead leaves and fallen timber piled on the slopes on both sides, it was only four paces wide; even under normal conditions, it was no more than ten paces or so.

The official road had not been repaired in a very long time.

But the wide places were wide indeed: apart from the thirty- to forty-li stretch in the very middle of the mountains where no one set foot, everywhere else there were abandoned villages every ten-odd li, and along the edges of those villages were fields that the common folk had once cleared and farmed.

At its widest, counting the fields, it could reach over a hundred paces; in some places there were also small mountain paths, and the ridges running north-south could be climbed as well.

Li Laochai remembered those ridges vividly — whenever the Ningxia relay cavalry on the ridges waved their flags, it would not be long before Mongol riders came galloping over on horseback.

Wei Qian'er wrapped the hooves of the relay riders' horses in cloth, extinguished the torches, and advanced in squads of three riders along the official road, scouting ahead in the dark.

Lion Camp's vanguard was the Rear Post, the unit most skilled at assaulting fortified positions. Post Commander Wang Wenxiu pulled his troops from the abandoned village's drying yard onto the official road, forming an eight-file column with two companies marching four abreast.

Li Laochai sat with his men on the hillside beside the official road, watching Lion Camp march out, his eyes full of envy.

Compared to them, Lion Camp's men and horses were far too well-equipped.

Take Wang Wenxiu's post alone: two companies of men lined up side by side, stretching out into a long column on the official road. It was called an eight-file column, but in reality it was twenty-six men in every four ranks.

The first rank had eight men: on the two flanks was one company baggage soldier each, and the six men on the inside were combat squad members belonging to the two companies.

The combat soldiers were all equipped with bows, sabers, or maces, and some carried seven-chi short spears.

The two auxiliaries carried weapons such as pikes one zhang five or six in length, three-eyed guns, and javelins.

Anything less than one zhang in length counted as a short weapon.

In ranks two through four, the outermost positions were taken by two mules led by baggage soldiers, carrying shields and armor on their backs.

The units behind were basically all the same, the only difference being that in some, both combat soldiers and auxiliaries used firearms.

Only after these two companies of troops had passed did four mules carrying small cannons march abreast.

Wang Wenxiu was right at the very front of the middle company behind these four cannons, leading his troops forward with a bold, martial stride.

He had left his warhorse and mules behind.

His post was never strong in horsemanship to begin with — from post commander to company commander, it was built on the framework of a Guyuan infantry hundred-man unit, and all the more so on a narrow mountain road like this, where warhorses dashing wildly through the ranks would only tear gaps in the formation.

Behind Wang Wenxiu's Rear Post came Gao Xian's Right Post, then Cao Yao's Cannon Post, Liu Chengzong's household guard unit, Chengzu's Heavy Post, and Feng Rang's Left Post.

Zhong Hu's Center Post and Li Laochai stayed behind to hold the camp; they had many men and many mules.

Liu Chengzong's order to the two of them was to garrison this place, and if the advance up ahead failed, they were to use the camp to block Du Wenhuan here.

If things went smoothly up ahead, they were to dismantle the camp and continue west.

Actually, whether the camp was dismantled or not did not matter much — Liu Chengzong's main point was to make sure Zhong Hu remembered to collect the caltrops; those were treasures Liu Chengzong had gotten from Ai Mu.

Not long after they set out, Liu Chengzong reckoned it should be getting light soon, yet the sky was still pitch-black, and he even began to wonder if he had risen too early.

Along the way he was still saying what a pity it was that the cannons cast in Shanxi had not returned; this terrain gave far too great an advantage to artillery fire.

The words had barely left his mouth when it began to rain.

It left Liu Chengzong staring dumbfounded. Sitting astride Red Flag, he tilted his face up blankly and wiped away the rainwater.

The rain was not heavy, yet it made Liu Chengzong furrow his brow.

Rain was very troublesome — troublesome while it rained, and troublesome after it rained.

Especially in this terrain: if the rain stayed light, it would turn the road to mud and make the soldiers ill; if the rain grew heavy, it would flood the official road and might even wash clods of earth and stones down from the hills thirty to forty zhang high on either side.

The rain threw the column into considerable disorder. The other posts were all right — they simply had the mules carry the three-eyed guns and bird guns so the men did not have to shoulder them.

Cao Yao's Cannon Post went straight to pieces.

The Cannon Post, with five hundred men, was a nearly full-strength firearms unit, with over a hundred artillerymen and more than two hundred bird gunners.

Lion Camp, which Liu Chengzong had just set in motion, was forced to halt its march. After a brief conference, each post handed its three-eyed guns and bird guns over to the Baggage Post, cut down on tent cloth, stripped off clothing to wrap their bows tightly, and advanced carrying ten small cannons each.

The Cannon Post, for its part, marched carrying forty small cannons and one red-barbarian cannon, leaving behind seven cannons — breech-loading swivel guns and general cannons weighing over a hundred catties that required gun carriages — for Zhong Hu to take charge of.

Liu Chengzong's order to Zhong Hu was: if the fighting at the front went smoothly and the Rear Post needed to advance, he was to spike the touchholes of those seven cannons and push them, carriages and all, into a ravine and abandon them.

As for that red-barbarian cannon weighing a full thousand catties, Liu Chengzong feared Zhong Hu would be reluctant to part with it, so for the time being the Cannon Post would haul it along; the moment it hindered the march, he would personally give the order and watch with his own eyes as it was thrown away.

Very quickly, the column's marching speed dropped at a rate visible to the naked eye. Rainwater pooled on the official road, and Liu Chengzong's warhorse never set hoof on good ground again — the dirt road was ruined, sticky and cloying.

The torches went out too. The soldiers ahead and behind, those leaning on short spears were all right, but those empty-handed or carrying long pikes began to slip and fall as they walked.

Liu Chengzong took out the wolfskin lining removed from his cotton armor and wrapped it in three layers around the outside of his two arrow quivers.

In the north, a bit of rain for a short while would not make things damp; as long as the bow was not left exposed to the rain for a long time, the only effect on it was that it would be more prone to breakage.

When battle comes, lives are about to be lost — no one cares whether a bow will break or not. Besides, with war bows like theirs that drew eighty catties and up, even without rain, after a single high-intensity battle, the bow might well break anyway.

But rainy weather had an enormous effect on arrows. The fletching could not touch water at all; once feathers got wet, their width would shrink to thirty or forty percent of the original, and the arrows would no longer fly true.

They had walked just three li like this when the sky brightened the faintest bit — overcast, and the rain was falling more densely.

Beyond a hundred paces, everything was hazy with mist. Wei Qian'er's relay riders returned through the curtain of rain, riding along the side of the road, so drenched they could not even open their eyes. Cupping his fists, one reported: "General, the government troops are advancing in the rain, still thirteen li from here. The relay riders have already engaged them; we lost four men and could not gain the upper hand."

As he spoke, the relay rider shook his head and added bitterly, "Squad Leader Wei has ordered a withdrawal to eight li out."

Liu Chengzong nodded to show he understood and ordered the relay riders to move up and provide support.

That the relay riders could not prevail was not unexpected.

Wei Qian'er's relay soldiers were all fine scouts, but they were not the finest warriors.

Scouts did not need to be supremely skilled warriors either, though at times they had to fight to suppress the enemy's relay riders.

But most of the time, as long as they could ascertain the enemy's position and screen our own army's movements, their mission was accomplished.

On a single-line mountain road with terrain like this, there was no screening movements anyway; as long as they could locate the enemy and provide early warning, that was enough.

The household retainers rode through the muddy road toward the front and rear of the column, relaying word that the enemy was still eight li away — all units were to prepare to don armor.

Cao Yao's cannon outpost was still a chaotic mess, already lagging over a hundred paces behind the two forward outposts. Liu Chengzong sent someone to hurry him, saying, "If it won't work, just abandon that red-barbarian cannon too."

Not long after, the retainer returned: "General, Outpost Commander Cao asks you to come take a look."

Liu Chengzong spurred his horse forward and saw that many in the cannon outpost were stripped to the waist.

Truth be told, plenty of men in every outpost were barefoot by now. The road was already waterlogged, and after the foremost several hundred soldiers had tramped through, it had all turned to mud. Sometimes a soldier would plant a foot and simply couldn't pull it back out.

One hard yank, and the shoe stayed in the ground.

The troops behind kept moving. There was nothing for it — they just went barefoot. Some of the auxiliary soldiers from poor families had even taken their shoes off before this point and hung them at their waists or laid them across the mules' backs.

The soldiers of the cannon outpost were straining to push that red-barbarian cannon cart — the men up front hauling alongside the mules, the men behind shoving.

The cart's four wheels were small and broad, and the gun carriage's chassis sat low; they were practically dragging it through the mud by brute force.

Liu Chengzong said, "I know it pains you, but if you go on like this for ten li, even if you work the men to death, you'll still hold up the fighting up ahead."

Cao Yao waved a hand. "No, look — I've put clothes on it. All forty-one guns in the cannon outpost are loaded with canister, the touchholes covered with soldiers' coats, and two coats stuffed into each muzzle to keep the rain out."

As he spoke, he pulled open his own sleeveless padded soldier's coat, tilted his face up at Liu Chengzong to show him, and pointed at the red-barbarian cannon's muzzle. "My inner garment is stuffed right inside, keeping the powder dry."

"This is our very first red-barbarian cannon — Lion."

Cao Yao wiped the rain from his face, raised a finger, and his tone carried a note of pleading: "Just let it fire one more shot."

With it put that way, Liu Chengzong could not bear to refuse. He nodded. "I'll have Chengyun send you a few more mules."

That said, he rode his horse aside to wait for the main body to come up.

This thousand-catty bronze cannon could not be saved.

A clash with He Huchen — victory or defeat was still unknown. After this battle, many in Lion Battalion would fall ill from this rain; there would be no strength left to turn around and fight Du Wenhuan again.

By late morning, the rain was still falling.

Soaked through, even in summer the cold made men shiver uncontrollably.

The forward scouts reported in one after another: the distance between the two armies shrank from eight li to six, six to four, four to two, and finally to just one li remaining.

Wang Wenxiu's unit, marching at the very front, had already donned their armor.

Liu Chengzong ordered the column to slow its advance, then leaned on a staff and struggled up a ridge.

Through the layered curtains of rain, the outline of He Huchen's government troops forming ranks along the narrow mountain road was already visible. Wei Qian'er's scouts said they were pulling back.

It seemed they were looking for a wider stretch of ground.

But Liu Chengzong had his eye on the ridges flanking the road ahead — soldiers traveling light ought to be able to cross them. He gave the order to the retainers beside him: "Have the army keep pressing forward; don't let them withdraw. Tell Outpost Commanders Gao and Feng to come see me."

The column paused briefly to let Cao Yao's cannon outpost catch up with the main force, then continued forward, closing on the enemy vanguard at a faster pace than before.

Gao Xian and Feng Rang arrived quickly. Liu Chengzong said, "See those two ridges, north and south? They should be crossable."

Both officers nodded. "We go over and hit the enemy's flank?"

Liu Chengzong shook his head. "No, going over would cost too much. You need to keep watch on those. If government troops come over, their men will be traveling light and exhausted. Stop them and smash them."

The two clasped fists in acknowledgment, returned to their outposts to advance, and selected squads to don armor and take up sharp weapons to guard the flanks. Gao Xian also sent a squad to climb the slope with wooden staves.

Feng Rang then wanted to try as well and dispatched a squad, but the hillside on his side was too steep — several men slid down, so he had to give it up.

In just that brief time, the two armies came within a bowshot of each other.

Whether because the rain made it hard to see, or because He Huchen thought he was still facing Old Jackal Li, he actually sent a mounted company charging down the official road first.

And it was a Mongol Yi Ding mounted company.

Those auxiliary soldiers in Wang Wenxiu's unit carrying fifteen- and eighteen-foot long spears had struggled forward the whole way for precisely this moment. In an instant they shifted formation, joining with the sword-and-shield auxiliaries to form a battle line at the very front.

Then they leveled their spears and marched to meet the mounted company's formation.

The mounted company began loosing arrows at forty or fifty paces, but everyone wore armor, and at that range it was hard to hit the face — they had almost no effect.

Only when they drew closer, it seemed, did they see the state of Wang Wenxiu's unit. At twenty or thirty paces they loosed a volley, wheeled their horses, and rode back to their lines, only to have several riders shot down by the battle soldiers' foot archery.

After that, the infantry continued to advance. A few sword-and-shield men broke ranks, went forward, and finished off the riders whose horses had been shot out from under them and lay injured on the ground, or who had taken arrows themselves.

This first clash greatly boosted the morale of the Rear Outpost's battle and auxiliary soldiers.

Wang Wenxiu's unit kept pressing forward, halting a hundred paces from the enemy line. The rear of the formation seemed to be in disarray.

Shielding his telescope, Liu Chengzong saw shields being passed forward over the heads of the Rear Outpost soldiers, one after another.

He hurriedly peered toward the enemy line, and sure enough — the government troops had set up four small cannons in front of their formation, rigging a crude little cannon shed out of wooden staves, long shields, and padded coats.

With a bang, the gunpowder smoke was battered apart by the rain, and shot flew in all directions. Those must be four gushing-bead cannons — Liu Chengzong caught a glimpse of a large ball flashing past amid the canister.

A heavy cannonball of eighteen taels and twenty small one-tael balls sprayed out, sweeping like a whirlwind across the front of Wang Wenxiu's formation.

Two direct-fire cannonballs tore through shields and punched through the soldiers behind them. Some balls flew high, skimming off the tops of shields and ricocheting backward.

More shot struck the slopes on either side and the open ground before the formation, gouging out mud pits one after another.

"Wicked bastards — you think you're the only dog-spawn with cannons?"

Wang Wenxiu watched several soldiers fall and saw that little cannon shed a hundred paces away still firing. Furious, he cursed: "Where are the artillerymen? Hit them back with the cannons! Everyone hold the formation steady!"

The artillerymen Wang Wenxiu meant were not from the cannon outpost. Lion Battalion just had more cannons in its cannon outpost; every other outpost also had ten small cannons.

Only theirs were a mix of gushing-bead and crouching-tiger cannons, and right now the crouching-tigers were unusable.

Before long, Wang Wenxiu followed suit, using long shields to rig a crude cannon shed of his own. The artillerymen led mules alongside, unloaded the wooden frames holding the gushing-bead cannons and the wooden chests of powder and shot, and assembled them under the shed.

Another cannon blast sounded from the government troops' front; shot once more knocked down several men before the formation.

This time there was some unrest at the front. The battle and auxiliary soldiers all knew — judging by the outpost commander's stance, he meant to duel the government troops cannon for cannon.

Their firepower was no weaker than the government troops', but they were the ones who had been taking it at the very front all along. A cannon blast, a few dead or wounded; another blast, a few more dead or wounded — sooner or later they'd all be wiped out. Who could stomach that?

Just then, Wang Wenxiu gave the order: "The first two ranks, withdraw from the front to the rear of the outpost. Every time we take a cannon blast, the first two ranks pull back to the rear."

Behind him, mules one after another carried gushing-bead cannons forward and waited. The supply column's stretcher teams bore away the wounded, one by one, down the mire beside the road.

Wang Wenxiu clenched his jaw and tightened his fists, wiped the rain dripping from his helmet's brow guard, and stood among the soldiers of the Rear Outpost, his heavily bearded face set with ferocity.

"If they want to use cannons, we'll use cannons. If they want to come to grips, we'll come to grips. We'll fight until they submit, fight until the government troops call you sirs."

With a bang, Wang Wenxiu's cannon fired too.