Chapter 369: Clean and Decisive

The three armies had them encircled — outnumbered, exhausted, and starving. The enemy even set up huge cauldrons in front of their lines, slaughtering sheep and pigs and stewing meat, loudly calling for them to surrender.

But those trapped in the river valley's center were the finest soldiers the Great Ming Empire could field. Even at an overwhelming disadvantage, they still refused to lay down their weapons and surrender. Orders rang out one after another as they formed ranks and charged — twice.

The first time, they fought for the Emperor, striking westward — only to be driven back by Wang Wenxiu's well-rested troops using heavy muskets and wall guns.

The second time, they fought to go home, charging eastward — only to be forced back by Yang Yao's cavalry battalions, who advanced at a measured pace, splitting and converging in a semi-encirclement.

When their fighting strength was utterly spent, the Hunting Camp's spirit-invoking rites and the Fishing Camp's overtone chants resounded through the valley. Soldiers at the front shouted toward the enemy position, delivering Grand Marshal Liu Chengzong's final ultimatum: the general assault was about to begin — when it did, they should not blame blade and arrow for lacking eyes.

The two garrison armies, cut off from reinforcements and out of provisions, finally wavered. When every psychological defense was pierced through, no one knew who started it — weeping rose from all sides.

Rank upon rank of soldiers knelt and kowtowed devoutly toward the east, crawled out of the trenches, shed their armor, and passed through the contested ground between the two armies. After a brief exchange, they launched another charge.

Only this time, it was for their own bellies — they rushed toward the food prepared behind the lines.

The two garrison commanders were deeply respected by their men. In the empty ground at the center, still surrounded by trenches, six or seven hundred soldiers who had resolved to die formed a square formation. Liu Chengzong looked at this stubbornly resisting square and ignored them for the moment.

He could tell these men were only resolved to die on the surface. When Mongol cavalry wandered into firing range, they neither fired cannons nor loosed arrows — deeply contradictory. They could not win a fight, yet were unwilling to surrender, so they stiffened their spines and held on.

Haul the cannons over and fire two volleys, and they'd be gone. Likewise, if no cannons fired, once they could hold out no longer, they might just launch a suicidal charge.

But in the end, Liu Chengzong's compassion was stirred. He summoned two surrendered soldiers and said, "Go tell He Huchen and Yang Qi: keep your lives and fight the eastern slaves to the death. Surrendering in a civil war is no disgrace. Have them both come see me."

The surrendered soldiers walked toward the enemy lines trembling with fear. On Liu Chengzong's side, several overseers in charge of the surrendered troops were dispatched. The food was not ready yet, so the surrendered soldiers were not allowed to eat for the time being — they were ordered to go dig graves for the fallen soldiers.

The surrendered soldiers, having just endured two assault operations, were at their weakest — exhausted and hungry. Putting them to work with shovels and picks now was the perfect way for the soldiers overseeing them to cultivate a feeling of being honored guests.

There were far too many surrendered soldiers. Seven or eight thousand had laid down their arms on the main battlefield, and Yang Yao had also brought over two thousand wounded and surrendered troops from the east. If these men rose in revolt, it would be serious trouble. To keep anyone from harboring second thoughts, the choice of overseers was critical.

The several overseers were: Dai Daozi, facing the Ningxia troops; Hu Sanhuai, in charge of the Guyuan troops; Zhong Bao, in charge of the Yansui troops; Yang Chengzu, in charge of the rebel troops; Wei Qian'er, in charge of the banner troops; and Li Tianyu, in charge of the native troops.

The surrendered soldiers were sorted out with perfect clarity according to their origins and backgrounds.

Yang Qi noticed that He Huchen was a little too calm. In his eyes, after two failed breakouts, the Guyuan army had simply vanished, almost without warning.

In his ten-plus years of military service, Yang Qi had seen collapse, had seen routs — but he had never experienced anything like this: a vast battle formation disintegrating in an instant.

To say they had not collapsed — the entire army was indeed out of control. To say they had collapsed — the surrender was, damn it all, quite well organized.

It was as if an army, in the midst of fighting, had suddenly reached the critical point of collapse and defected en masse.

Yang Qi was panicking. The more a man relies on experience, the more he feigns calm when facing something he has never encountered before — and so he did not run.

But a man feigning calm will always recognize who is truly calm, and learn from them.

Compared to Yang Qi, He Huchen, standing in the formation with a defeated expression, was very calm.

It felt familiar, after all.

Everything seemed to return to the ninth day of the sixth month in the third year of Chongzhen — the air fresh after rain on Yellow Dragon Mountain, wounded soldiers leaning on crutches, hobbling away one bounce at a time, abandoning him.

Commander He was a man who had been through this before. A minor scene.

Yang Qi said urgently, "Let's break out eastward — flee to Lanzhou."

He Huchen smiled a bleak, wretched smile. "And what then, once we reach Lanzhou?"

The last time he was defeated, his first thought had been that he had failed the Emperor's grace and should end his own life. But this time, that thought did not come to him... because last time, he alone had led the troops.

When a commander meets an opponent head-on and simply loses the fight, anyone would feel ashamed.

But this time was different. Five route commanders had all lost. That proved the problem did not lie with him, He Huchen.

Yet at this moment, he truly did not know what he ought to do. The same thing had happened to him twice. The Ningxia army was scattered to the winds — he could not go back.

Just then, a household soldier reported, "Commander, surrendered soldiers have returned — they bring word from the enemy!"

Before He Huchen and Yang Qi could speak, the household soldiers had already parted to open a path, letting the surrendered soldiers through.

He Huchen shut his eyes in pain. He had known this would happen. Though these soldiers still remained on the position, they were merely loyal and righteous — they were not tired of living.

If there was a chance to stay alive — or rather, to stay alive without going against their commander's wishes — the household soldiers were perfectly happy to live. So without waiting for their commander to speak, they had let the surrendered soldiers in.

It was the surrendered soldiers, returning to the formation, who secretly felt guilty. Cowering and shrinking back, they dared not step forward. It took them a long time to pass through the formation of several hundred men and reach Yang Qi and He Huchen. They bowed their heads and prostrated themselves. "Commander..."

Yang Qi was quite angry that his subordinates had scattered on their own without a word, and ignored the surrendered soldiers. He Huchen, however — after all, this was not his first time being defeated by Liu Chengzong, a true veteran of such things — said, "Rise. What words does General Liu have for you to deliver?"

Hearing this, the surrendered soldier thought Commander He's form of address was rather mild, and mustered a little courage. "General Liu said: keep your lives and fight the eastern slaves to the death. Surrendering in a civil war is no disgrace. He asks you and Commander Yang to come over and talk."

Surrendering in a civil war is no disgrace.

Yang Qi looked at He Huchen. "Do we go?"

He Huchen thought to himself that Liu Chengzong truly knew how to give others a way out — and this Yang Qi beside him was truly a piece of work.

Whether to rescue You Shilu — he made him decide. Whether to go see Liu Chengzong — he still made him decide. This fellow did not want to bear one bit of responsibility for any psychological guilt.

But since things had come to this, He Huchen could not be bothered to quibble. They were all old demons — who among them had not mastered the art of shirking responsibility? He said on the spot, "What else can we do but go see him? Do you want these few hundred brothers around us all to die here?"

With that, He Huchen had the surrendered soldiers lead the way. Each man took two personal attendants and followed, crestfallen, crossing the trenches toward the opposite side.

The household soldiers and troops remaining in the position watched their retreating figures, anxious yet glad. The anxiety was naturally for the two commanders' personal safety; the gladness was that a sliver of hope for escape had sprung up in their hearts once more.

As they approached Liu Chengzong's battle lines, Xie Erhu and Chaghan Taiji spurred their horses forward and stopped the two men and their attendants. Xie Erhu said in stiff, awkward speech, "The two commanders will disarm. Your personal guards stop here."

Immediately after, Chaghan Taiji spurred his horse out from behind Xie Erhu, pointed at He Huchen, and rattled off a string of words, not caring whether He Huchen could understand his Mongol tongue.

What he said was: He Tiger, you dog, when you were beating me in Ningxia, did you ever think you'd see a day like this!

Before He Huchen had marched south, he had taken the opportunity to give the wall-battering Khundulen a beating.

Unexpectedly, Yang Qi frowned directly at Xie Erhu and said, "We two can understand Han speech. There's no need for this Tartar to serve as interpreter... Is General Liu afraid the two of us will assassinate him?"

Chaghan Taiji was so furious he spurred his horse in circles on the spot, with nowhere to vent his anger.

Xie Erhu just took his pleasure in secret — the Chahar tribe getting beaten was no concern of a pirate like him. Only when he had laughed enough did he straighten his face and say, "You lost. Don't put on airs. If you don't disarm, do you want to be bound before seeing the Grand Marshal?"

Yang Qi was so angry his teeth itched. He felt Liu Chengzong had done this on purpose — using two northern slave Tartar soldiers here to disgust him.

But He Huchen could understand Mongol. He looked at Chaghan Taiji, puzzled, thinking: I've beaten so many Mongols — which one is this interpreter?

He Huchen, however, was obedient. The battle was lost, and a way out had been offered even where there was none. He no longer hoped for anything. He unbuckled the war sword at his waist and handed it to He Zan, telling him to wait here.

Unexpectedly, He Zan immediately unbuckled the war sword along with his own saber and handed them to Yang Qi's household soldier, saying, "Father, I am coming too."

He Huchen's eyes flared and his beard bristled on the spot. I am going to discuss terms of surrender, and you, you whelp, ever since you were captured at the Battle of Yellow Dragon Mountain, you've been in a daze, always thinking the Great Ming has problems. What are you going to see Liu Chengzong for — continuing education?

"You cannot—" Halfway through, He Huchen realized he himself might not be coming back. He could only sigh and shake his head. "Forget it. Times have changed."

Yang Qi saw the father and son remove their swords, and huffily removed his own as well.

Truthfully, he felt no psychological burden. In his mind, this battle was lost entirely because others were useless. His Guyuan troops had nothing to speak of, he had no hand in formulating the tactics, and he simply fought however others planned. In any case, during the fighting, he gave it his all.

The battle was lost because everyone else overestimated the various garrisons' capabilities. He had never overestimated the Guyuan troops' combat strength, and had not even dared to offer an extra word on tactical planning, placing himself in the humblest of positions.

The greatest blunder lay in the fact that the garrison commanders had never imagined they would lack even the ability to hold the battle line and last until Liu Chengzong's army was infected by smallpox.

Of course, they had no way of knowing that even if they had stalled for time, Liu Chengzong's army would never have been infected by smallpox at all.

But being at peace with the defeat did not mean he would meekly submit. He was extremely displeased that two Mongol soldiers had ordered him to remove his sword.

He thought to himself, I am a Chief Commander after all. I came here willingly, yet Liu Chengzong showed not the slightest gesture of courteous regard for a man of worth, and even sent northern Tatar slaves to disgust the two of us. Utterly lacking in magnanimity.

In fact, Liu Chengzong had not assigned Xie Erhu to be here.

It was simply that Erhu felt the Grand Marshal had always been far too merciful toward surrendering troops and officers, even allowing them to stand. He just wanted to find an excuse to tie the two men up with rope.

But because He Huchen was excessively obedient, Xie Erhu, who had been itching to stir up trouble, returned in disappointment.

Entering the military formation, He Huchen still remembered the last time he had met the rebel army commander Liu Chengzong; he also remembered the scorn he had felt in his heart, deeming him an overreacher, when he heard Liu Chengzong was entering Qinghai.

Yet he never imagined that just a few short years later, Liu Chengzong would truly fight his way out of Qinghai.

From a distance, He Huchen saw the Grand Marshal's command tent atop the earthen hill. That command tent was extremely familiar, only somewhat older, its color worn away in many places.

Outside the tent was set the Grand Marshal's desk. Liu Chengzong, fully armored and helmeted, sat behind the desk. Before the desk, over ten officers stood in attendance to the left and right. Around them were two rows of bodyguards, and farther off, there were signal soldiers holding banners, along with gongs, drums, cymbals, and horns.

He Huchen had kept his mindset very composed the entire way, but with just one distant glance toward that earthen hill, his head began to buzz violently, and he nearly suffered a cerebral hemorrhage on the spot.

The command tent was his command tent; the Grand Marshal's desk was his Grand Marshal's desk; the gongs, drums, cymbals, and horns were his field camp musical instruments; even the signal soldiers awaiting orders outside the tent were the former signal soldiers of Ningxia Garrison.

Apart from the banners having changed, that Liu the Lion had not wasted a single one of these things, retaining and using the entire ceremonial regalia of the former Ningxia Garrison Chief Commander.

Upon the earthen hill, Liu Chengzong was with Yang Yao and Wang Wenxiu at the desk, tallying the spoils and captives from the two victorious battles. The harvest of arms, armor, and equipment was plentiful. For cannons weighing over five hundred jin alone, there were twenty Frankish breech-loading cannons, another six Heaven-character General Cannons that fired eight-jin balls, plus two discarded cannons, all with ample gunpowder and cannonballs.

The grain seized, however, was pitifully little. Wang Cheng'en, He Huchen, Yang Qi, and You Shilu combined had only just over two thousand seven hundred shi of military grain.

It was not even as much as the grain stored by the Hehuang chieftains who had rebelled earlier. From the Ye Chieftain alone, who had raised troops in rebellion, over three thousand shi of stored grain and over a thousand head of livestock had been confiscated.

Once the sealed granaries of the branch-line chieftain officials from each family who had participated in the rebellion were fully tallied, Liu Chengzong estimated he could obtain over thirty thousand shi of grain and over ten thousand head of livestock.

But correspondingly, this war had also brought him over fifteen thousand more mouths to feed. A population increase was a good thing, but what gave Liu the Lion both pain and joy was that these people were all good warriors.

He did a mental calculation. In the current Xining Prefecture, not counting the temporarily conscripted miscellaneous troops under Cheng Yun or the native soldiers from various parts of Hehuang, the professional soldiers eating his grain under his command had already reached over thirty-five thousand.

This number meant that the entire Hehuang region had been militarized to an extreme degree; one out of every nineteen people was a professional soldier.

And among those nineteen people, there were the elderly, children, women, the disabled, and the simple-minded. Among the able-bodied adult males fit for soldiering, it was equivalent to drafting one out of every six.

The over one million mu of farmland in the Hehuang Valley would need to be taxed at a rate of three-tenths just to feed these full-time soldiers after the autumn harvest.

If the surrendered troops were further incorporated, this ratio would increase to drafting one out of every four able-bodied men, requiring a tax of six-tenths or even seven-tenths to feed the army... this was utterly impractical.

Liu Chengzong sighed. He had known before the war began that this would be the outcome.

Fifty thousand troops was close to the total strength of one garrison on the Nine Frontiers; but anywhere on the Nine Frontiers, sixty to seventy thousand troops included the farming garrison soldiers. Even so, no frontier garrison could sustain itself without local support.

The fertile land he possessed was only in Hehuang, and the amount of farmland was far less than any frontier garrison.

Therefore, whether advancing toward Gansu, Lintao, Guyuan, or Lanzhou, it was like driving a chariot at full speed toward hell. Lose the battle and you lose your life; win the battle and you have no grain.

Yet, to make him spit all these people back out... he was unwilling.

This was not a problem that war could solve. Despite winning the battles, the situation was more severe than before the war began.

Liu Chengzong said, "In Lintao Prefecture, Lanzhou, and Hezhou, the native soldiers are already spent and the guard troops are all lost. The remaining army numbers less than ten thousand. Digest this batch of surrendered troops as quickly as possible. The banner troops and native soldiers among them are familiar with the terrain. We must dispatch forces to besiege Lanzhou City."

Yang Yao and Wang Wenxiu's expressions were relaxed. On the grand strategic direction, they always trusted that Liu Chengzong would have a solution. At the moment, far from being worried, they were very pleasantly surprised by this news. Yang Yao said, "Grand Marshal, are we advancing on Lanzhou?"

Liu Chengzong shook his head. "We can only hold either Lanzhou or Hehuang. We have no time to fight them anymore. Cross the Yellow River, confiscate the granaries of all wealthy and powerful families on this land, distribute twenty percent to the local poor commoners, and haul the rest back. This will lay a foundation of popular support for our eastward advance within two years."

Over the next two years, the chain reaction triggered by this great war would ferment in the northwest. What it would ultimately become, Liu Chengzong did not know either. He only knew that the time left to him was running short.

Once he was on the verge of running out of grain, he could only advance eastward. Moreover, he would not move unless necessary, and once he did, he had to be prepared to thrust all the way into Guanzhong.

Just then, Xie Erhu ran up the earthen hill and said, "Grand Marshal, those two Chief Commanders are here."

Liu Chengzong gave the order to let them through, and He Huchen ascended the earthen hill together with Yang Qi.

He was just thinking about how he should surrender to Liu Chengzong. He had just reached a spot two zhang from that familiar Grand Marshal's desk when suddenly, from the corner of his eye, a figure dropped low — Yang Qi was gone.

Before he could even look down, a voice came from beside him: "Yang Qi, defeated general and Chief Commander of Guyuan, kowtows to the Grand Marshal of Qinghai. Yang Qi wishes to surrender, and begs the Grand Marshal to dispatch troops to Lanzhou to bring my family and clansmen to Hehuang!"

He Huchen stood with his mouth agape, looking at the momentarily stunned Liu Chengzong behind the desk, then looking down at Yang Qi. He was utterly dumbfounded... so decisive?