Chapter 414: The Irtysh River

Batur Hongtaiji hadn't even entered Liu Chengzong's command tent before he was already reflecting on his conduct.

Reflecting on whether he'd looked too happy at the funeral and offended the Grand Marshal.

Because through the tent's lifted curtain, he saw Liu Chengzong sitting in a folding chair, holding a Dzungar musket.

He said to Dai Daozi, who was with him: "Anda, go talk to the Grand Marshal — we can talk things out, why bring out blades and guns… Next time, next time a Great Khan dies, I won't laugh, alright?"

Liu Chengzong actually had no such intention at all; he simply wanted to ask Batur about the situation in Russia, so he had someone fetch a Dzungar musket from the spoils to examine their equipment.

Objectively speaking, the Dzungar musket was decent — one could even say the craftsmanship was excellent.

Liu Chengzong had already received a report from Wang Wenxiu stating that the Oirat muskets all had slightly larger bores than bird guns, so their power and range were superior, but the drawback was inconsistent bore sizes, lengths, and designs.

They only shared a roughly similar appearance.

The musket in Liu Chengzong's hand was no exception — its bore was slightly larger than a bird gun's and slightly smaller than a heavy musket's, and in some places the workmanship surpassed the Marshal's Mansion's heavy muskets.

Liu Chengzong was certain this musket was made by the Dzungars, absolutely not purchased from Russia, the Ottoman Empire, or any other country.

Because this long matchlock was made with exceptional care and solidity.

The barrel, the breech-plug screw, the spring — needless to say, all forged.

But the trigger, the serpentine lever that held the match, even the round iron posts that fixed the lock to the wooden stock — all bore hammer marks and grinding traces, entirely hand-forged and hand-polished.

And precisely because they were hand-forged, Liu Chengzong considered the workmanship of these parts superior to the Marshal's Mansion's muskets — cast parts, after all, weren't as sturdy.

At the Marshal's Mansion's firearms factory, these small, non-load-bearing parts were all cast.

That was exactly why Liu Chengzong could confidently assert this musket was independently manufactured by the Dzungars — after all, the Dzungars didn't know how to cast iron.

His conclusion was correct, but his reasoning was wrong; in reality, the Russians didn't know how either — it wasn't until the first year of the eighteenth century that Russia smelted its first furnace of pig iron.

Before that, all their farming tools were made of wood.

Metallurgy was a precious science and technology in the world, with extremely strong technical barriers; only East Asians of this era believed otherwise — this was also the secret to why even minor frontier states in East Asia could immediately replicate muskets and cannons upon acquiring them.

Because for them, all advanced weapons of this era were merely design problems, not technical problems.

When Dai Daozi entered the tent and relayed Batur Hongtaiji's apology for his funeral faux pas, Liu the Lion didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and said: "Tell him to come in — what's there to blame? I sought him out to ask about the Rakshasa country."

Hearing Dai Daozi's account, Batur Hongtaiji entered the tent with an embarrassed grin, chuckling: "Whatever the Grand Marshal wants to know about them, I'll tell you everything I know."

As he spoke, he remembered something, turned and said a few words to his attendants waiting outside the tent, then looked back and said: "I've had someone bring the drawn Oirat map to present."

Liu Chengzong nodded, raised a hand to gesture for Batur Hongtaiji to sit, and had the guards pour two bowls of milk tea before speaking: "I hear you've been at war — you've been in contact for a long time now, haven't you?"

"Contact — north of the Kazakhs, there was once a khanate called Sibir. Their khan submitted to the Rakshasa people, but was later overthrown by Kuchum Khan. After Kuchum Khan was defeated, he fled into our Dzungar Zaisan Lake, stole our horses, and the Dzungars kept pursuing, all the way until they saw the Rakshasa people."

Batur Hongtaiji pulled himself out of racking his brains to recall historical tales: "If we count from then, we've been in contact with them for over forty years."

As he spoke, he smiled: "That was my grandfather's generation — the Dzungars were still a small tribe, able to field at most six thousand men."

Liu Chengzong took a sip of milk tea, raised a hand in indication, and said to Dai Daozi: "Ask him — after all these years, what does he make of the Rakshasa people?"

"What do I make of the Rakshasa people?"

Batur Hongtaiji was a bit puzzled by Liu Chengzong's question; honestly, he'd never thought about it, nor did he know what word suited them.

He thought for a long time, and finally found a fitting term: "Mosquitoes."

"Mosquitoes?"

Batur Hongtaiji was utterly certain, even elated at having found such an apt word: "Yes, mosquitoes — born where water and grass are lush, killed off this year but they'll emerge again next year. Not like wild beasts that kill people, but their bites are maddening."

Liu Chengzong narrowed his eyes — what kind of assessment was that?

Even in his wildest dreams he'd never have imagined that after decades of war, the Dzungar Hongtaiji would describe the Russians like this.

Seeing Liu Chengzong's dissatisfaction with his assessment, Batur Hongtaiji began overthinking again, assuming Liu Chengzong was asking about the Rakshasa people out of concern for garrison safety, worried he was being deceived.

But the Hongtaiji didn't know how to explain; just as he was scratching his head in frustration, his attendant outside the tent handed the map to Liu Chengzong's guards.

This delighted the Dzungar Hongtaiji immensely; he hurried forward to take the map and, pointing it out to Liu Chengzong, said: "Grand Marshal, look — all of this is Oirat territory. The Ili River, the Chu River, the Talas River, north all the way to the Om River — this is Dzungar grazing land."

The map was not finely drawn, and didn't even match the geographic orientation Liu Chengzong had in mind, but he could roughly see that the Dzungar territory was vast.

Then the Dzungar Hongtaiji pointed to the northwest and north of the grazing lands on the map, gesturing with his hands as he explained: "This north-south river is called the Irtysh River, and the one flowing east-west in the middle is the Om River. Far north of the Irtysh River, they built the city of Tara."

Liu Chengzong nodded, forming a rough impression of the Dzungar Hongtaiji's description in his mind, and asked: "Your grazing lands are south of the Om River — why not continue north? Is it because of the cold?"

Continue north?

Batur Hongtaiji leaned back slightly, as if considering this question for the first time — and in fact, he truly was considering for the first time why their grazing lands didn't extend further north.

The consideration naturally yielded no result.

"It's cold everywhere."

Batur Hongtaiji shook his head, then muttered something else that made Dai Daozi double over laughing.

After a moment, once Dai Daozi had recovered, he very earnestly translated for Liu Chengzong: "Past the Om River to the north is marshland — it's really no good for herding sheep, you know."

Liu Chengzong was also amused by this answer — it seemed he'd been too presumptuous. Where the little lambs refused to go, what motivation did the Dzungars have to go there?

He roughly understood the situation between the Dzungars and the Russians now — similar to the Great Ming and the Mongols, only the roles were reversed. This time, the Dzungars were tasting what it felt like to face northern barbarians.

"You and the Rakshasa people are separated by impassable marshes — cavalry and infantry can't easily cross, yet the Rakshasa people come by water to attack you?"

Liu Chengzong thought his deduction this time should be correct, but to his surprise, Batur Hongtaiji shook his head again, saying: "They have very few men and don't dare attack us, but they always raid the Tatar tribes and Kirghiz tribes that pay us tribute, so we always have to go attack them."

"For four months of the year, the ground is covered in heavy snow and impassable; for another four months, it's muddy marshland and impassable. It takes a month to walk there, so after a year of preparation, there are only a few days when we can strike them."

Batur Hongtaiji was thoroughly vexed as he spoke of this, spreading his hands: "Even if we win and burn their fort, we can't hold it. Those places can't support sheep. When we go back the next year, it's another few hundred men arriving by boat, building a wooden fort again."

He shook his head and said: "So now we don't fight them anymore. On both the east and west banks of the middle Irtysh River, there are many salt pools. If they want salt, they can't raid my tribute peoples anymore, and they have to sell me goods. But this is only a temporary measure — this problem can never be solved."

"I thought Tara was their stronghold, but it wasn't; I also thought Tyumen was their stronghold, but it wasn't either… Let it be for now — this is still better than letting people keep freezing to death."

Batur Hongtaiji let out a heavy sigh, deeply frustrated.

In truth, there were things he didn't say, but he and Liu Chengzong shared an unspoken understanding.

Just as Liu Chengzong knew, before the Marshal's Mansion won a great victory within a thousand li of Oirat territory, the Oirats would never truly submit.

And conversely, before the Oirats could threaten a stronghold within a thousand li of Moscow, the Russians could never halt their eastward march.

But at this moment, Liu Chengzong was in excellent spirits.

Batur Hong Taiji's grasp of Siberian geography and intelligence on the Russians was far greater than he had imagined.

He asked with keen interest, "What is their method of marching, and how large are their forces?"

"When they reach certain places, they build forts along the rivers — wooden forts with towers, easy to defend and hard to attack. In winter, they march swiftly on birchwood sleds; once the snow melts, they use boats — small boats, and also large boats sixty or seventy feet long, carrying five or six cannons weighing five or six hundred catties apiece. They call them 'zhaika.'"

Dai Daozi shook his head as he spoke. "Marshal, I don't know what 'zhaika' means… The Hong Taiji says their forces are about four hundred to hold a fort, and when a large force marches, they come out in full strength — fifteen or sixteen hundred men, with firearms and artillery, well-equipped, in motley uniforms."

Liu Shizi listened, nodding slowly, and etched in his mind the image of a Tsarist Russian expeditionary force: tough soldiers, a shrewd commander.

He had just ended his war with the Oirats, having fought the Oirat army — mainly the Khoshut tribe — face-to-face for an entire day, and he understood the Oirat army's caliber.

Not to say they were exceptionally strong, but at least the various tribes had cohesion — they could fight with the wind at their backs and hold firm against it, with competent commanders, brave officers and soldiers, the weapons they ought to have, the armor they ought to have. They were a regular army.

As long as an army meets the most basic conditions, it has the possibility of victory against any contemporary army.

"Possibility" is crucial. For instance, if the enemy general is not clever and marches to battle with his water and provisions cut off, then victory is possible.

Like the army of Baiyan Hong Taiji in the past — he would grandly march out several thousand men, with fewer than a hundred suits of armor, only a few hundred iron blades, and arrowheads made of stone or bone… Against any great power's regular army, they would get a beating.

Even a Ming army cut off from water and provisions could still send them running for their teeth on the ground, because before Baiyan Hong Taiji met Liu Chengzong, what his army actually matched up against were peasant armies like Li Wanqing's and Luo Rucai's, not regular troops.

An expeditionary force of just over a thousand men like this — if it dared to clash head-on with the Dzungars on the northern slopes of the Tianshan Mountains, even if it came ten times a year, the Dzungars would devour it, leaving not even a bone splinter behind.

But by exploiting the terrain advantages of marshes and rivers, a mere thousand-plus men could stand as an equal against a great tribe like the Dzungars, capable of mobilizing tens of thousands of herder-soldiers, and even nibble away at their land bit by bit.

In truth, before this, the image of the Tsarist Russian expeditionary force in Liu Chengzong's mind was a band of brave, death-defying, savage Cossack cavalry.

But after speaking with the Dzungar Hong Taiji today, Liu Shizi overturned that impression.

They are extremely clever, meticulous about strategy and tactics.

The steppe and the plain are a cavalryman's paradise. The most important thing on the steppe is the rivers, because horses need to drink water, and they drink a great deal of it. Therefore, whoever controls the rivers controls the steppe.

"Well?" Liu Chengzong took a sip of milk tea, clapped his hands, and asked with a radiant smile. "Any thought of going back in there, smashing into the marshes, and burning all their forts to the ground?"

Hearing these words, Batur Hong Taiji smiled wearily and slowly shook his head. "After all these years, they haven't managed to do much. In a direct fight, they can hardly win anyway. Before I'm fully prepared, I don't intend to fight them again."

Having said this, he seemed to reignite his fighting spirit. "If necessary, I will attack Tyumen once more to intimidate them, and then throw my full strength against the Kazakh Yangir. Once I've taken Yangir, I can push all the way west and threaten Ufa, southwest of the Ural Mountains — that is their key stronghold."

"That's the spirit!"

Liu Chengzong offered a word of praise, but in his heart, he did not entirely agree with Batur Hong Taiji's plan.

Leaving aside whether the Dzungars could actually force the Kazakhs to submit — even if the Marshal's Commandery provided support to the Dzungars and enabled the Hong Taiji to win the war, would the Kazakhs, faced with their sworn enemy the Dzungars, not turn around and submit to Tsarist Russia instead?

Furthermore, if this war dragged on indefinitely without result, and Tsarist Russia continued as before, bypassing all strong enemies to invade eastward across northern Siberia — then what benefit would all that support I gave you bring me?

Liu Chengzong felt he had to make Batur Hong Taiji change his mind. He could not afford to shrink back; he had to fight the Russian explorers in the north.

"They build wooden forts by the river — you build forts by the river too. Fire bricks and ram earth; they won't fear fire or cannon. Build them sturdier than theirs. You're not short on men, you just lack a bit of know-how."

Liu Chengzong raised his hand and tapped it lightly on the table. "I'll sell you cannons too — the kind they mount on those, what do you call them, zhaika boats, weighing five or six hundred catties. I'll have them made for you."

Batur Hong Taiji's expression turned bitter. "Marshal, I am deeply grateful for your help, but you don't understand. If we build forts, we can't hold them. They come and go swiftly by boat — it's pointless."

"There's something you may not know, Hong Taiji. Pledging allegiance to the Marshal's Commandery is the most correct decision you have ever made in your life."

Liu Chengzong shook his head with a touch of emotion, then turned to look at Dai Daozi. "Dai Daozi, tell him — our Marshal's Commandery… has a navy!"

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Good morning!