Chapter 324: Pledging for Battle

Eight-Sided City was like an eternal, unshakable Mongol grand camp.

The entire encampment surrounded the monastic and lay buildings left in this ancient city by the Junior Lhazun, with countless large and small yurts pitched to form three clusters of encampments in the northern, eastern, and southern parts of the city.

Each cluster was relatively independent, with fences staked around the outside, defensive fortifications built, and sentry posts set up, while the interior relied on felt tents to form streets.

Apart from the outer city walls, this place was practically a replica of a nomadic settled town, except that the layout of the town they built was heavily influenced by the cannonballs booming in from outside the walls.

No one pitched camp in the center, because amid the thunderous cannon fire of the first day, people discovered that the center of Eight-Sided City was the place most easily struck by shells.

Beneath the western wall, on the second day of battle, Taiji Chogtu drew a line along the wall's shadow at dusk and ordered all herder-soldiers in the army who knew how to forge iron to build twelve furnaces in that shadow. Sheltered by the western wall, they gathered the iron cannonballs that flew in, smelted and forged them, and hammered them into arrowheads suited for their use.

This spot was beyond the reach of cannon fire, allowing the craftsmen to focus on making arrowheads, thereby strengthening the Mongol soldiers' ability to resist stubbornly after the city was breached.

Outside the city, Liu Chengzong had no idea that Taiji Chogtu was using his cannonballs to make arrowheads. He was with Zhang Tianlin, Li Wanqing, and other chieftains, doing everything they could to stuff private tricks into the surrender appeal letter.

The surrender appeal Liu Chengzong first drafted was very simple: it was a response to Taiji Chogtu's wish for him to lift the siege, while also setting out the conditions for lifting the siege — that they lay down their arms and surrender.

But this letter was subsequently spotted by Zhang Tianlin, who had entered the tent to discuss setting an ambush for the Double Ninth Festival. The two put their minds to it, and later simply summoned the Lion Army's junior officers to gather and come up with devious ideas.

As rebel leaders who rose up in northern Shaanxi, they all possessed a wealth of experience in being on the receiving end of surrender appeals.

It was just that, having previously been in the position of the ones being urged to surrender, it was hard to consider what rhetoric was more ingenious. But now that the tables had turned, it became quite interesting.

Comparing the two sides, the command tent where they deliberated was filled with belatedly enlightened officers, cursing and swearing at how cunning the court officials were.

Of course, cursing aside, these tricks were indeed deliciously effective. People turned right around and applied the court's former strategies of surrender inducement and division against them onto Chogtu's defending troops.

The general content of the letter remained unchanged, but promises were added: the bearer of the letter could bring ten men and be spared death; the head of a Noyan would be rewarded with five hundred taels of silver; the head of Chogtu would be rewarded with five hundred taels of gold.

Because the quantity of surrender letters needed was too large, Liu Chengzong ultimately had someone carve a block and print them. However, he didn't let Xie Erhu idle either; Erhu was responsible for writing page numbers, skipping from one to two thousand and writing out twelve hundred sheets.

This idea came from Liu Chengzong. He figured that once these letters were shot into Eight-Sided City, Chogtu and the nobles would surely gather them up. When they couldn't collect all two thousand no matter what, they would have no choice but to suspect one another.

Whether the effect was good or not was still unknown for the moment, but the look Xie Erhu gave Liu Chengzong was a bit fearful.

On the morning of the eighth day of the ninth month, the two trebuchets outside the city boomed once more. Twelve hundred surrender letters were glued into twelve large paper balls with big paper pouches, tied on the outside with a few small firecrackers with fuses, and shot into Eight-Sided City one after another.

The large paper balls burst apart in the air, and the letters scattered over the city like a goddess scattering blossoms.

The entire Eight-Sided City was thrown into chaos by these letters. Chogtu learned of it immediately. After reading a letter, his temples throbbed violently, and he flew into a thunderous rage, cursing furiously: "That Han brat is no good man!"

He then summoned the nobles of the three camps to deliberate. The monk Zorji held a letter, his lips trembling, and quietly urged Chogtu: "Taiji, if it's no good, just surrender. If hearts are not united, even the strongest camp will be breached."

Chogtu whipped his head around, his eyes like those of a tiger choosing a man to devour, but in the end he said nothing. He merely ordered the nobles to gather up the letters.

He had fought many losing battles and tasted defeat in every corner of the realm, but he had never surrendered.

Ahai Daiching sat to the side, watching the nobles of the three camps in the tent, his arms folded as he pondered silently behind them... These surrender letters left his feelings very complicated.

It wasn't quite sadness or anxiety; in fact, he was even a little pleased.

After their defeat, his eight hundred-some followers held very low status in this city. Though no one said anything openly, everyone could feel that others looked down on them.

The nobles of the three camps each occupied a section of the city, while his followers could only crowd into a corner near the center — a place where, whenever the firing started, they might be struck by a cannonball.

But after two days of Liu Chengzong's fierce assault, when the battlements of the western wall were completely demolished, he could clearly sense that their status had returned!

It was as if people had already let go of his defeat and even felt a bit more understanding: being beaten while facing such firearms and cannons was nothing shameful.

Precisely because of this, Ahai Daiching hardly dared to tell anyone that when Liu Chengzong fought him, he hadn't had this many heavy cannons.

Just as he was pondering where to go from here, he saw Chogtu, after a brief moment of thought, say to the crowd: "His letter sounds pleasant enough, but it's merely a ploy to slaughter us all, so he can keep our followers to recruit and spend their lives for him. Better to fight to the death defending the city. Even if we only hold Eight-Sided City, once he retreats, it will be enough to sustain our followers."

Chogtu had found the crucial flaw in these surrender letters. Just as Liu Chengzong did not fear the court's death-pardon plaques, it wasn't only the peasant armies of northern Shaanxi who couldn't read; Chogtu's Mongol followers were illiterate too.

As long as he could keep these nobles in line, the matter was not dangerous for him.

And the assembled nobles, whether feigned or sincere, all chimed in with agreement one after another, making the atmosphere in the great felt tent very harmonious.

Ahai Daiching also said: "The Han's advantage lies in firearms and cannons, but the big cannons cannot be carried up onto the walls!"

Truth be told, he rather wanted to surrender. Having cannonballs fly past his skull had somewhat scared the courage out of him.

But he did not dare surrender. Just like the Mongol Noyans in this felt tent now, Ahai Daiching did not believe for a moment that every man was as determined as Chogtu to stubbornly hold out to the death.

It was only because Liu Chengzong was outside the city. Ahai Daiching worried about his treatment after surrendering — damn it, what if surrendering turned out worse than being defeated?

The very premise of their attack on Qinghai was Liu Chengzong's southern campaign. Who didn't know what he had done down south?!

Wasn't that precisely the slaughter of nobles to the last? Were Western Barbarian nobles nobles, and Mongol Noyans not nobles?

Without the first rafter sticking out, the question of whether one dared — let alone whether one wanted to — was enough to make the nobles in the tent hesitate.

During these days besieged in Eight-Sided City, Ahai Daiching had been thinking carefully, and now, belatedly, he felt that the very fact Liu Chengzong could return north alive proved he was an enemy they could not defeat.

Touching the interests of nobles is like taking a man's life; changing the thinking of slaves is like digging up a man's ancestral grave. And the thinking of the lower classes is precisely bound to the source of the nobles' interests.

Liu Chengzong had thoroughly offended both sides among the Western Barbarians, yet in the end could still withdraw unscathed, lead his army north, and appear before them — that in itself spoke volumes.

At the very least, it showed that Liu Chengzong did not need to cooperate with the nobles to subdue the Kangning Western Barbarians. By the same token, he would not need to cooperate with the Noyans to subdue them either.

For this reason, rather than surrender, Ahai Daiching preferred to drag things out a few more days and see if there was a chance to escape.

However, to ensure his personal safety, Ahai Daiching still hid over a hundred surrender letters for unforeseen needs.

His remark about the big cannons not being able to be carried onto the walls struck a deep chord with Chogtu, who immediately responded: "Right! When they assault the city, let them have a fierce taste of arrows forged from their own cannonballs!"

The crowd in the tent loudly discussed the opportunities street fighting offered them. At this moment, they were all clutching at a life-saving straw, exhaustively debating tactics — things like sticking arrowheads in the latrine pit for later use, or smearing grease on the western wall.

Someone even shouted out a proposal to send warriors to rappel down the walls at night and go east to fetch reinforcements, drawing sidelong glances from everyone.

Go east to fetch reinforcements? What reinforcements, the Ming army?

If this Noyan didn't have high cheekbones and a face like a silver platter, people might have been a little suspicious of his bloodline.

But later, after Chogtu and a few nobles put their heads together, it seemed the idea might actually be feasible. At worst, if they couldn't hold Eight-Sided City, then Liu Chengzong wouldn't get it either — they'd hand it all over to the Great Ming.

However, someone immediately raised an objection. After all, at the Guide Battalion, the Marshal's Office's troops had joined forces with the Ming army to resist them. If the Ming army came and ended up besieging them together, they'd be too clever by half and botch it.

Just then, the attendants who had been collecting the surrender letters returned. With strange expressions, they approached Chogtu and whispered in his ear: "Taiji, these letters are all numbered, from one to nineteen hundred and eighty. There may be two thousand in total. We've only collected four hundred and forty."

Chogtu's eyes went wide, but he immediately pretended nothing was wrong and dismissed the attendants.

After the council ended, he specifically kept Ahai Daiching behind and said with a grave expression: "You were defeated by the Han. I trust you. You may not know this, but while we were here discussing tactics, someone secretly hid the Han's surrender letters!"

Ahai Daiching's eyes instantly widened in disbelief: "There is such a thing?!"

Taiji Chogtu nodded heavily: "Two thousand surrender letters, and we've only collected four hundred and forty. Over fifteen hundred are still scattered among the troops. What do you think we should do?"

Ahai Daiqing cursed and swore, his face red with anxiety, and panted heavily several times. Only after his nervousness had eased slightly did he say, "Taiji, could it be that the tribesmen hid the letter? We should search the camp! But we mustn't make too much noise about it, or it will harm morale."

"That's exactly what I'm saying — so how do we search?"

Chuoketu didn't know either, but before he could think of a solution, a sentry connected to the west wall reported unusual movement in the enemy camp — someone had brought many livestock inside.

They hurried up onto the wall and gazed far out beyond the city. They saw soldiers in Liu Chengzong's camp gathering and cheering. Every encampment was slaughtering sheep and cattle, and some men were carrying tables and driving livestock toward the southern hills.

Chuoketu thought to himself, This is bad. Are they about to take an oath and launch an assault?

Ahai Daiqing, anxious to divert Chuoketu's attention, quickly said, "Could they be planning a night raid?"

Chuoketu shook his head. "Who ever heard of a night raid with this much fanfare?"

He thought Ahai Daiqing was an old fool. If he tried to figure out Liu Chengzong following that man's line of thinking, he'd certainly lose again. Thinking the opposite way might hold some hope of victory.

But since there was concern on that front, they would have to tighten defenses tonight.

Xie Erhu knew the Double Ninth Festival was for plundering, but here with Chuoketu and Ahai Daiqing, these nobles from the northern desert rarely dealt with Han people and had no idea about the Double Ninth Festival at all.

On the contrary — because the pontoon bridge over the moat was already in place, leaving only a single trench to protect them, a night raid was indeed a real possibility. So much so that all through the night, the Mongol Noyans could not sleep easily from worry.

The night garrison was reinforced by thirty percent. They could only stare wide-eyed at the Marshal's headquarters camp in the darkness, watching until midnight.

By the time the sky began to lighten, the Noyan nobles keeping night watch on the wall were beside themselves with fury, cursing and denouncing Liu Chengzong for still not coming to night-raid them. If he didn't come soon, they'd run out and night-raid him themselves.

They had barely drifted into a dazed sleep when they heard gongs and drums outside the city. Countless soldiers holding torches merged into several fiery dragons, their bright armor and clothing visible as they marched south.

In an instant, no one in the city could sleep anymore. The tribal chieftains rushed to the wall in a frenzy, only to see banner after great banner converging southward through the morning mist. By the scale of it, at least several thousand men. At the very front of each contingent, cattle and sheep were draped in red and adorned with colors. Finally, they climbed up the mountain and vanished from sight.

The Mongol nobles vied with one another in bewilderment: "What are they doing?"

No one knew. At last, one noble said uncertainly, "The Han people's Double Ninth Festival?"

"What's the Double Ninth Festival?"

The speaker didn't know either; he had only heard others mention it. After that, everyone began to speculate wildly about the matter.

They speculated all the way until noon. The Han troops who had gone up the mountain showed no sign of returning. Though the camp was still guarded, the usual Han soldiers were nowhere to be seen — only warriors who were clearly foreign auxiliaries patrolling back and forth with weapons in hand.

People could no longer hold back. The nobles demanded one after another to sally forth and attack.

The midday sun beat down until sweat beaded on their foreheads. Chuoketu was caught in a dilemma. On one hand, he feared this was Liu Chengzong's baiting tactic. On the other, he felt that whether it was bait or not, those enemy troops climbing the mountain could not be faked — this was a fine chance to weaken the besieging army.

If they missed this, there might never be another opportunity to strike at the besieging forces.

What if they really were celebrating a festival?

In a single thought, a single order. Four Mongol nobles each led a thousand cavalry, filing out from the south gate. The Western Barbarian noble cavalry, caught off guard, could not withstand even a single exchange and fled westward at once.

The four columns of horsemen charged straight for the siege camp, setting fire to trebuchets and siege towers, then leaped their horses over to strike directly at the Western Barbarian defenders behind the trench. In an instant, they routed them. Then they dismounted, formed ranks, and launched an assault on the artillery position atop the earthen hill west of the city.

The Western Barbarian troops fell back step by step. The armored soldiers from Long River West, charged with guarding the main camp, formed ranks to resist but were outnumbered. Before they could reform their lines, they retreated toward the mountain camp.

Taiji Chuoketu saw it all clearly from the wall. Watching the cavalry seize the artillery position and begin dragging away the dozen or so cannons, he immediately ordered another two thousand cavalry out of the city to fight, intent on crushing the enemy army in one blow.

The dismounted herder-soldiers in formation had even pressed close to the command tent on the earthen hill. To break through the defenders before them, they needed only to advance another hundred paces west to seize the Liu banner flying high above the hilltop command tent.

But before they could haul the heavy cannons even halfway, a sudden boom thundered from the hilltop where the dismounted herder-soldiers were forming up to attack.

An unprecedentedly enormous cannonball arced slowly into the air, then plunged down at even greater speed, slanting into the rear of the herder-soldier formation.

Before anyone could react, a man in armor, bow in hand, charged out of the command tent at the hilltop with over ten men. He drew and loosed at the slope below — three arrows in quick succession, felling three men.

At that very moment, the massive cannonball that had landed behind the formation detonated. Fragments flew everywhere, wounding hardly anyone, yet it threw the herder-soldier formation into utter chaos.

Right on its heels, Han soldiers burst from every tent, firing their muskets at close range, then dropping them and charging into the gun smoke with blades drawn to fight hand-to-hand.

The cavalry dragging the cannons had no mind left for thousand-jin heavy guns. They hastily unhitched the gun carriages, yet had no idea whether to reinforce the battle or flee back into the city.

From the distant foot of the mountain came the high, piercing wail of suona horns. The Marshal's headquarters' elite cavalry formed ranks behind the hill, advancing slowly toward the center of the battlefield alongside eight cloud-ladder carts.

"Damn it…" On the city wall, Chuoketu's curse trembled. "I wanted to raid your camp, and you're trying to storm my city!"