Chapter 354: The Horse Camp

Heavy, chaotic hoofbeats echoed through the river valley.

The border troops of the three garrisons pressed in like a crushing tide, bringing the deepest bloodline suppression to the soldiers of the Marshal's Command's Tribute tribes.

Most of the Mongols under Liu Chengzong had spent their lives with Ming troops as their main opponents, but in all their years, not a single Mongol soldier had ever seen Ming troops fill a valley and advance in full formation like this.

The battles the Mongols were used to were thousands or even tens of thousands of herding soldiers, clashing with a thousand or even a few hundred border troops inside and outside the southern desert frontier wall. If they could rout them before Ming reinforcements arrived, they would continue plundering; if they couldn't, they would withdraw on the spot.

They had never once fought a pitched battle between two armies.

And the other portion of Mongol and tribal soldiers who had never faced Ming troops before — the most terrifying opponent they had ever met was Liu Chengzong's old border army.

So Liu Chengzong's plan to attack first with the Mongols fell through. Those pale-faced Mongols were not up to the task, and he had to change tactics on the verge of battle. He said to Yang Yao, "It seems your unit must attack first. Cut down the enemy's edge to boost morale, and have Xie Erhu support you."

Yang Yao cradled his helmet and let out a laugh. He put on his bowl-shaped helm, clasped his fists, and said, "Your subordinate takes the order."

With that, he first turned to Huang Shengxiao, who was standing on the wall directing the artillery below to adjust their cannon angles, and said, "Little Huang, aim carefully — don't drop a cannonball on my head… Taiji, want to come play with me?"

Watching the battle from the wall, Chaghan Taiji shook his head like a rattle-drum. He loved fun, but he wasn't stupid.

He was no fool like Xie Erhu, who had spent half his life chewing rhodiola in Chuodan. The Chahar tribe had suffered plenty at the hands of the Xuan–Da border troops, and all the way west, they had also been beaten by the very He Huchen facing them now.

Whatever psychological shadow Liu Chengzong had left on He Huchen, He Huchen had left the exact same psychological shadow on Chaghan Taiji — the area was identical.

"I, I'll just stay by the Grand Marshal's side and learn. I wish General Yang swift victory. You… you be careful of Yulin's Madman You and Ningxia's He the Brute."

Chaghan Taiji took a deep breath. After following Liu Chengzong east, storming cities and breaking forts, and annihilating native soldiers in the blink of an eye, he had completely corrected his mindset. He was neither an honored guest of the Marshal's Command nor the younger brother of the Mongol Khan.

He was simply an ordinary envoy from the Chahar tribe stationed at the Qinghai Marshal's Command — the same as Shili, the Turpan envoy stationed at the Marshal's Command. Just being a battlefield observer was fine.

Yang Yao laughed and patted Chaghan Taiji on the shoulder. To him, this Chahar Taiji was more fun than all the Mongol nobles of the past. Their relationship was one-sidedly quite good.

The so-called one-sided part was that Chaghan Taiji was especially grateful to Yang Yao, because General Yang had given him a smallpox inoculation.

Yang Yao hadn't exactly had good intentions when he inoculated him.

Ever since receiving the mission from Liu the Lion to cultivate smallpox vaccine, Yang Yao had inoculated everything that breathed wherever he went.

Yang Yao figured that sooner or later he'd have to inoculate the Mongol soldiers, but Mongols were not of his own kind and had never been inoculated before. What if they had a severe reaction and died? The Mongol soldiers in the Fishing Battalion and the Supply Battalion were also the Grand Marshal's soldiers, and their lives were lives too.

Just as he was racking his brains, Yang Yao spotted Chaghan Taiji, who had no way to hang out with Liu the Lion and was pacing idly in circles at the river mouth. Colonel Yang's eyes went dead straight — his mood was even happier than when he'd drawn his military pay back in Guyuan.

Hey! What a coincidence — here was a goddamn outsider whose death wouldn't hurt to grieve over.

He went to ask Liu the Lion if he could stuff a dose of vaccine into Chaghan Taiji's nose too.

Liu the Lion agreed. Yang Yao was delighted, thinking the Grand Marshal really did think like him — an outsider's death wouldn't hurt.

But in reality, their thought processes were different. Yang Yao thought the matter was very dangerous, which was why he wanted to inoculate Chaghan Taiji. Liu Chengzong thought the matter was not dangerous, which was why he agreed to inoculate Chaghan Taiji.

He never even considered the danger. He only thought about what impact inoculating Chaghan Taiji would have on the Chahar tribe. After a moment's thought, he figured there wouldn't be any impact, so — go ahead and inoculate him.

Afterward, Chaghan Taiji was hauled off by Yang Yao. His reaction was good, and he never had to fear smallpox again.

Chaghan Taiji didn't think much of the process. Didn't the Grand Marshal also have a wad of cotton stuffed up his nose? One wad for him, one wad for me — what did that mean?

It meant that we two brothers both have very high status.

To this day, Chaghan Taiji still doesn't know that he is one of the experimental subjects worthy of a glorious chapter in the history of humanity's fight against smallpox, second in importance only to the monkey caught by Li Wanqing.

He confirmed that the technique of human smallpox inoculation is effective as long as the subject is human, regardless of ethnicity.

That monkey confirmed that the subject of inoculation doesn't necessarily have to be human — it was more important than him.

Yang Yao descended the wall and assembled the cavalry battalion's officers and men. The 3,600 riders had already finished assembling under the command of Company Commanders Wei Qian'er, Han Shiyou, and Yang Chengzu. He immediately led the troops across the bridge to the south and formed ranks on the eastern bank of the Huangshui River bend.

Not long after, Xie Erhu also led the Mongol horse troops across the river. The 6,000 Mongol herding soldiers formed two divisions, positioned behind Yang Yao's horizontal line.

Listening to the drums and horns sounding, Chaghan Taiji watched the dense mass of cavalry form ranks on the river's east bank a hundred paces away and sighed to Liu Chengzong, "General Yang's cavalry is strict and orderly — truly elite riders… The enemy is closing in. Grand Marshal, why don't you use that mirror?"

Liu Chengzong smiled. Everything suffered by comparison. Yang Yao rode to the very center of the opposite bank and stood there; the Company Commanders and Squad Commanders behind him knew exactly where they should stand. Each rider, leading two horses and spaced four paces apart, formed a camp formation — of course it looked neat.

Xie Erhu's Mongol troops looked like an army of 6,000, and the men had all been handpicked, each possessing a certain level of combat skill. But all they were familiar with was hundred-man squad drill; they had no habit of battalion drill. When 6,000 men stood together, they were not a single whole.

He knew that the "mirror" Chaghan Taiji was talking about was the telescope in his hand.

Liu Chengzong shook his head, smiled, and handed the telescope to Chaghan Taiji. "You can play with it. I don't need it anymore."

He had already used the telescope to observe the enemy's formation. They were using a column march formation with cavalry in front and infantry behind. The infantry carried war wagons, which were certainly equipped with cannons, but he could confirm there were no heavy cannons over a thousand catties.

This already gave Liu Chengzong enough information; he didn't need the telescope anymore.

If he were marching, he generally wouldn't put cavalry in front. There was only one situation where cavalry would be placed in front: if the infantry was relatively weak. Then cavalry would be placed forward to quickly seize strongpoints and fortifications during an encounter, buying enough time for the infantry to form ranks.

This also corroborated the intelligence that Dai Daozi's reconnaissance riders had gotten from prisoners: the central-route government army had over ten thousand border troops from the three garrisons and over ten thousand native and banner troops. The presence of the latter was very likely the reason the three garrison commanders had placed cavalry in front.

This was advantageous for Liu Chengzong.

Therefore, at this moment, neither he nor Huang Shengxiao needed to use the telescope. He needed to use his naked eyes to accurately judge the enemy's distance.

This was experience gained from long years of campaigning — only judgment by the naked eye was precise enough.

A moment later, he and Huang Shengxiao called out one after the other: "A thousand paces!"

At this distance, they could see the outline of the enemy troops but still couldn't distinguish whether they were cavalry.

The reconnaissance soldiers prepared below the wall immediately waved their flags. Small yellow flags waved in alternation on the west and east banks of the Huangshui River, and the message was relayed in an instant to the cavalry formation on the east bank.

Xie Erhu's Mongol horse troops promptly mounted up en masse, but then they saw Yang Yao's cavalry still sitting in formation where they were, and they dismounted again.

"Eight hundred paces!"

They could now distinguish the enemy's cavalry, and they could see the fluttering army banners.

Twelve heavy cannons were arrayed in a line on the ten-foot-high earthen mound east of the city. The artillerymen slowly adjusted their firing angles as the distance changed. Huang Shengxiao on the wall was also adjusting his firing angle; at his hand was a Frankish cannon captured from the Nianbo Battalion.

There was nothing special about this cannon itself, but it used a two-wheeled gun carriage. According to the inscription on the carriage body, it should have been paired with a donated Hongyi cannon from the fifth year of the Tianqi reign, but the cannon had gone who knows where, leaving only the carriage equipped with a five-hundred-catty Frankish cannon.

But this gun carriage was extremely useful to the Marshal's Command, because its design was very precise. It had a leveling plate and carriage sighting wheels, with range distances engraved on it. This was experience the Marshal's Command's gun carriages could learn from.

Word came that the enemy had closed to eight hundred paces. Yang Yao nodded and still led his subordinates, sitting in place.

The Mongol soldiers behind could no longer stay seated. The wall had said eight hundred paces, but to them, the enemy was actually already as close as six or seven hundred paces. Those Mongol soldiers who had mounted up without orders could even vaguely make out the Ming troops' heads and torsos; even the coiled dragon emblems on the chests of their cloth-faced armor were visible as a blur.

The Ming troops continued advancing. Suddenly, horns sounded. Liu Chengzong could see clearly from the wall: the government cavalry continued as before, but behind them, the infantry's marching pace abruptly quickened.

He knew this was preparation before the cavalry attacked — the infantry quickened their pace to prevent the infantry and cavalry from disconnecting after the cavalry charged.

At that moment, Yang Yao stood up, swung onto his horse, reined in his mount, and turned to face his subordinates.

The bodyguards behind him rolled up the banners, and at once the Marshal's headquarters' thirty-six hundred cavalry, seen from the city wall, rose to their feet like undulating waves, from front to back and from the center outward in sheets.

Liu Chengzong took one last look at the distant government troops still marching closer, then turned to Huang Shengxiao and said, "That's enough."

Huang Shengxiao raised his arm. Below the city, behind the earthen mound position, the heavy-cannon centurion waved his flag and shouted, "Artillery, prepare!"

A messenger shouldering a red flag unfurled it and galloped horizontally ten paces behind the artillery position; the squad leaders of the twelve gun crews raised their flags one by one, standing where the mounted messenger had passed.

When the heavy-cannon centurion waved his command flag again, the twelve small flags swept down in turn. Instantly the heavy cannons roared — flames shot skyward, smoke blanketed the ground. Seven-catty iron balls tore through the trembling earthen mounds as if souls were leaving their bodies, trailing whooshing wind sounds over the heads of nearly ten thousand cavalry east of the river, and arced at a high angle into the enemy ranks in the river valley.

Yang Yao said nothing, sitting ramrod-straight in the saddle.

As the cannonballs hurtled through the air overhead, he tugged the reins and turned. Through the cheek guards of his helmet, the fine hairs on his neck stood on end. He nudged his mount lightly with both heels and, holding the bridle, advanced slowly forward.

Wei Qian'er, Han Shiyou, and Yang Chengzu swung into their saddles. The thirty-six hundred cavalry of the three chiliarch commands rose and fell again like waves — the red tassels on their helmets and the eighteen-foot cavalry lances at the front of the formation were like an enormous wild rose, pressing slowly forward.

Liu Chengzong watched the cannonballs plunge into the enemy ranks. He did not take back the telescope that had brought Shatu Taiji such endless novelty. That the shells did not strike the foremost enemy troops was within his expectations — in fact, it was exactly his intention.

Observing the distance from the city wall, they were naturally a bit farther away than the artillery position. The artillery fired at an elevation set for eight hundred paces, so the shells would all pass over the government troops' foremost cavalry and strike into the infantry battle lines.

Under the threat of the cannons, the panic in the government army's ranks was palpable to Liu Chengzong even across eight hundred paces.

The infantry's steps faltered; officers hurriedly reformed the ranks. The cavalry's cadence was thrown completely into disarray — some spurred forward faster, others halted in their tracks.

Liu Chengzong gripped the thick earthen parapet and murmured, "Hold steady, hold steady…"

Behind Yang Yao's horse battalion, the cavalry's pace was also quickening involuntarily, but the officers held it in check.

Starting with Yang Yao at the very front of the formation, he drew his goose-quill saber and extended it horizontally to his right. The three chiliarchs, riding slightly behind him, drew their blades in turn, signaling with their sabers for the subordinate officers to rein in their mounts' pace.

Then, within the formation, one by one the centurions, squad leaders, and corporals bared their blades, keeping the cavalry formation steady at four-pace intervals.

Sighs rose from the cavalrymen at the very front of the formation. They shook their shoulders, letting the shoulder straps of their eighteen-foot lances slip free, and gripped the lance shafts in their hands. The tail ropes of the lances hooked over their toes, they advanced slowly, holding the long lances high.

They were the army that had trained the longest in the Marshal's headquarters drill camp. Every soldier could deduce the purpose of the operation from the general's actions.

The government troops' cavalry was out front, and their infantry had yet to form a large encampment. Their own mission would shift with the flow of battle: if they could drive off the enemy cavalry before the government infantry formed their camp, they would set the stage for victory in the opening engagement; if not, then by the Grand Marshal's order, they would simply blunt the enemy's edge.

Thus this would be a fight of border troops against border troops, cavalry against cavalry.

Yang Yao rode slowly, holding the bridle. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the formation's pace had been reined in and stabilized for a hundred paces. Only then did he swing his goose-quill saber to rest against his right shoulder. Ahead, the ground shook and the mountains quaked as several thousand cavalry formed into multiple wedge formations and charged toward him, yet his face was icy cold and bore a contemptuous sneer.

Then the veins on his forehead bulged and his expression turned ferocious. "Where are the Yansui troops?"

Several hundred soldiers of the horse battalion roared, "The Yansui Army is here!"

Yang Yao asked again, "Where are the Guyuan troops?"

Once more several hundred soldiers of the horse battalion shouted in unison, and Yang Yao himself shouted along with them: "The Guyuan Army is here!"

Yang Yao asked again, "Where are the Ningxia troops?"

Another several hundred soldiers in the horse battalion, still advancing slowly, roared in unison, "The Ningxia Army is here!"

Having shouted only fifteen words, Yang Yao's voice was already hoarse. Straining his throat, he asked one last question: "Where are the border troops?"

"The border troops are here! The border troops are here! The border troops are here!"

The sound echoed through the mountain valley, even drowning out the pounding hoofbeats of the several thousand cavalry charging three hundred paces away.

Yang Yao nudged his horse's flanks lightly with both heels. The warhorse began to trot, his whole body rising and falling with the mount's jolts. The gleaming goose-quill saber resting against his shoulder caught the sunlight as his arm slowly pointed forward.

Behind him, the formation began to shift as it advanced.

Within the three chiliarch formations, the left captains were the first to accelerate, overtaking their respective chiliarchs. Behind them, six hundred cavalry in turn surged ahead and took position at the front of the formation.

Each of the three left captain divisions split into five units. Three of the left centurion units continued to accelerate, forming the first wave of three shock formations at the front.

Rank after rank of cavalrymen, lances leveled and clad in horse armor, passed Wei Qian'er, Han Shiyou, and Yang Chengzu — the three chiliarchs — in not-quite-straight lines at four-pace intervals.

As they overtook Yang Yao, these highly skilled cavalrymen tucked their chins slightly. Beneath the brow ridges of their helmets, their eyes locked dead onto the enemy cavalry drawing ever closer.

One after another, the eighteen-foot cavalry lances slowly lowered in the cavalrymen's grips. Some advanced with lances clamped under one arm, others dropped their reins and thrust forward with both hands on the shaft, launching their charge amid the thunderous pounding of hooves.

Yang Yao held his pose, saber thrust forward. He knew that cavalry rarely charged head-on into each other.

But this time, only true border troops could press forward without flinching!