Chapter 467: Chijin Garrison

Liu Chengzong's siege of Jiayu Pass entered its third day, and the preparatory work outside the pass had reached its final stage.

Under the protection of thirty-six heavy cannons, the Tianshan Army carried out large-scale earthworks six hundred paces outside the pass, digging ten-li-long trenches and piling up ten earthen mounds four zhang high at key points; using the superior vantage over the city walls, flag-waving lookouts took in every movement of the defending troops.

Meanwhile, thirty crisscrossing approach trenches snaked their way toward the gate fortress and the suspended wall of Jiayu Pass.

This was because the defenders were equipped with large-caliber Frankish swivel guns capable of rapid fire; these were slightly weaker than red-barbarian cannons when firing solid iron shot, but when firing grapeshot they could bring utter catastrophe upon assault troops advancing within two hundred paces.

Digging tunnels was not practical here; on one hand, the gate fortress of Jiayu Pass itself sat on higher ground, and outside there was a zhang-deep inverted-triangle moat, with cobblestones lining both the edges and the bottom — tunneling underneath was extremely difficult; sending in few men was just throwing away lives, and sending in many men made the earthwork far too demanding.

And stuffing gunpowder to blast the walls was also unworkable at Jiayu Pass; the gate fortress was merely a small fort of some seven hundred-odd paces in circumference, yet it had three layers of walls, surrounded everywhere by defensive works and barracks — blasting open the outer wall still left two more walls inside, so it meant little.

Blasting the inner wall still left two walls both inside and outside — utterly pointless.

As for simultaneously breaching all three walls, Liu Chengzong considered that making work for himself; he had neither the skill nor the inclination, and if he blew them up, he would have to repair them himself afterward.

He merely wanted to create the appearance of a determined assault on Jiayu Pass Fortress; in truth, his real little scheme lay in those thirty approach trenches — five trenches on the right wing were wider than the others and could accommodate plank carts.

As for this impregnable gate fortress, Liu Chengzong did not intend to storm it; storming a city was a high-risk, high-reward affair, and the meager wealth inside this tiny Jiayu Pass Fortress was not worth the cost of a direct assault.

So he only had Gao Yingdeng mount a few feint attacks to put some pressure on the defenders; the real objective was to knock a hole through the suspended wall to the south and let the army pass through Jiayu Pass.

After all, this gate fortress and suspended wall were built with a nasty twist — the oasis and the lake were both on the other side; when the time came, he could just leave a small force to besiege it until they surrendered... anyway, Liu Chengzong had also figured out that the defenders kept lighting fires with oil jars at the base of the wall for no good reason, and the meaning was perfectly clear: they were putting on a show for him.

They were telling him: don't storm us, or we'll set fires and burn people.

Over three days of artillery duels, the Marshal's headquarters fired over three thousand shells, blasting away whole stretches of battlements on the gate fortress and suspended wall and destroying eight defending cannons.

The cost was that among the thirty-six heavy field guns, one took a direct hit and was wrecked, and three more were deformed; by now the cannons on the pass had all fallen silent, and the few remaining guns had been hidden away — presumably intended as a trump card for close-quarters fighting.

Of course, it was also possible they simply did not want to return his cannonballs to Liu Chengzong.

After all, cannonballs were expendable; the Marshal's army had come from afar, and once this supply-guzzling consumable ran out, replenishment in theory posed a major problem.

But there was always a "however."

A little west of Jiayu Pass lay the old Yumen Pass; that area was now the grazing land of the Mongol Chijin tribe, and there was a town there called Shanma City, which before the border pullback had been the court-designated site for the tea-horse trade.

When Choktu Taiji passed through, the Chijin tribe's chief had been hauled off by Suzhou Mobile Corps Commander Zhao Zhirui to Ganzhou to report to Regional Commander Yang Jiamo.

The tribe's remaining members were few to begin with; as an inwardly relocated Mongol tribe, they had neither fighting strength nor fighting spirit, and seeing the Marshal's headquarters' vast army approach, they naturally assumed it was Han people brawling among themselves; several venerable Chijin commanders thought, this has nothing to do with us, so we might as well offer tribute.

The one who came from the Chijin tribe was a commander surnamed Kang, called Kang Liangfu, who claimed to be a man of Kuaiji; he was called a commander, but in truth the men, women, old, and young under him totaled just over two hundred souls — he was more of a big landowner who herded horses and sheep; the tribute he offered was six finely crafted iron pots, each stamped on the bottom with the mark of the Marshal's headquarters' Hundred Workshops Bureau.

Liu the Lion nearly laughed himself sick in the main camp; this Kuaiji man was actually offering him, as tribute, the very iron pots he had bestowed.

Only after careful questioning did he figure out that the Kuaiji Kang Liangfu spoke of was not the Kuaiji in Jiangnan.

During the Jin dynasty, Yumen was divided into Xingma and Kuaiji counties; the Western Liang regime then changed Kuaiji County to Kuaiji Commandery; by the Tang dynasty, they were collectively called Hu people, and to avoid the label "Hu," they adopted Han surnames and called themselves Kuaiji people; when the Mongols came, everyone became Semu people again.

At that time, they were descendants of Chubai; Chubai's line was originally Chagatai princes, and during Qaidu's rebellion, he led ten thousand cavalry to submit to Kublai Khan; afterward, the family held the Hexi region for generations; of the seven Ming dynasty garrisons beyond the pass, all except the Handong Garrison were connected to the Yuan dynasty Chagatai princes.

When the Chijin Garrison's ancestor Talini surrendered to the Ming dynasty, he claimed to be the son of the Bin Prince Chancellor Kushu.

They had rendered great service to the Ming dynasty, but later suffered a devastating blow from Turpan and requested internal relocation to Suzhou, where they picked up Han surnames again.

Now Kang Liangfu was trying to say some pleasant things to close the distance between them, because he was afraid of Liu Chengzong — deathly afraid.

To Kang Liangfu, who had long lived beyond the pass, the name Liu Chengzong was not unfamiliar; it was very familiar indeed.

The region from Hami to Suzhou had always been a no-man's-land caught in the cracks during the Ming dynasty, and especially after the Great Ming pulled back its borders, it became a buffer zone.

Most people living here were in a culturally awkward position: the Han to the east considered them Tatars, and the Tatars to the west considered them Han.

A no-man's-land — this place had few people, and with a great monster lurking next door, it was hard to carve out an independent domain, which meant whoever came was the master; Choktu Taiji, who went his whole military life without a single victory, had once been master here.

Back when the Taiji was master, Kang Liangfu's uncle was in charge and led Choktu Taiji to Jiayu Pass to seek armed rewards from the Gansu Regional Commander — doing his bit as a host, so to speak.

Later, Gansu Regional Commander Xu Jiashou patted his cannons, and the Taiji no longer dared to be master here.

Amid his uncle's worried sighs, Kang Liangfu first heard the name Liu Chengzong.

He bowed slightly and raised his head a little, looking toward Liu Chengzong, who sat on a folding chair outside the command tent, and said cautiously: "Uncle said that a rebel chief from the Great Ming entered Qinghai, seized Qinghai, and then led his army to Ü-Tsang to burn incense and worship Buddha; the Taiji wanted to pay a visit, and our family had to provide men."

"Forty men — my uncle led them and went with the Taiji." He raised one finger: "Only one came back."

"Oh." Liu Chengzong suddenly understood; he clapped his hands and sat up straight: "So, your Chijin tribe has a grudge against me?"

"No grudge!"

Kang Liangfu shook his head and answered decisively: "It's just... the Khan King was warm and hospitable and kept them there — a blessing!"

Liu Chengzong misheard and was very pleased, even selectively ignoring the latter half of the sentence, which was overly fawning and would normally have annoyed him; he smiled and said: "King of Han, you have a way with words... How many households does the entire Chijin tribe have?"

"Replying to the Great King, over five hundred households."

Liu Chengzong raised a hand and summoned a guard to fetch brush and paper; he wrote a few lines without looking up and asked: "Your name is Kang what?"

"This humble one is Kang Liangfu."

He nodded, wrote out a letter of appointment, ordered the army's craftsmen to carve a bronze seal, and held it out: "Kang Liangfu, I appoint you Commander of the Chijin Garrison under the Marshal's headquarters, with jurisdiction over Yumen, Guazhou, and Dunhuang; gather the tribesmen, recruit the various Hu peoples beyond the pass, and guard the supply lines — do you dare take this post?"

Kang Liangfu had never dreamed that Liu Chengzong would so simply appoint him Commander of the Chijin Garrison.

Although he was currently the Chijin Commander by virtue of an edict issued by the Great Ming Son of Heaven, under the same title, the meaning in Liu Chengzong's words was clearly that he was not just giving him the title of commander, but truly intended to give him the authority of a commander.

And authority over the three territories of Yumen, Guazhou, and Dunhuang — that was practically the combined domain of the early Ming Chijin Garrison and Shazhou Garrison.

The Chijin Garrison had existed in name only ever since its internal relocation to Suzhou; these commanders and even commandants had neither military force nor authority — they were merely a band of camel-herding nomads on the Gobi.

Though admittedly, these three places were indeed nothing special; the route from Yumen to Guazhou was dotted with settlements — "little oases" if you wanted to put it nicely, or, to put it bluntly, a few large hamlets and stockades barely scraping by.

Basically, it was a state where sand outnumbered fields, fields outnumbered horse bandits, horse bandits outnumbered common folk, common folk outnumbered lambs, lambs outnumbered horses, horses outnumbered noble lords, noble lords outnumbered rivers, and rivers outnumbered merchant caravans.

Dunhuang — Dunhuang had to be singled out; this place was extraordinarily glorious in ancient times, a vital strategic hub and commercial town on the Central Plains' route to the Western Regions, but after the An Lushan Rebellion, natural disasters, human calamities, and drastic environmental changes sent Dunhuang's status into a precipitous decline.

Yang Pass lay southwest of Dunhuang; Wang Wei wrote that west of Yang Pass there would be no old friends, and by this era, west of Yang Pass the question was no longer whether you might meet an old friend, but whether you would meet anyone at all.

No people, no livestock, no roads, no rivers... west of Yang Pass stretched a thousand li of rolling, unbroken desert.

It was no longer a vital transportation hub; the Central Plains' route to the Western Regions went from Yumen through Guazhou to the northwest, via Hami and Turpan, while Dunhuang, forgotten in its corner, was merely a desolate land of lush weeds and ubiquitous ruins.

Kang Liangfu had never been to Dunhuang; he had only heard what it looked like from the lucky one in the tribe who had fled back from Qinghai — there the wild grass grew thick, great trees sprouted in the wasteland, irrigation channels carved into riverbeds by snowmelt then dried up again, trees fell and houses collapsed, neighborhoods turned into splendid ruins, everywhere a bleak scene centuries devoid of human presence.

Dunhuang's environment was not bad; there was water and grass if you wanted water and grass, wasteland if you wanted wasteland — it was just empty, too ruined, and people there had no purpose.

All the people in these three places combined did not outnumber the population of Hami, and Hami had only a little over ten thousand people.

Power is a fine thing; though it cannot in itself bring a person happiness — quite the opposite, the process of acquiring power often makes one unhappy — once you possess power, many people will go out of their way to make you happy.

Kang Liangfu hastily knelt, gave thanks, and accepted the appointment — already dreaming sweet dreams of strangling the Silk Road to levy trade taxes.

Suddenly, a strange accent — one that would sound outlandish even among Mongols — called out from in front of the command tent and woke him: "Great Khan, have him move his administrative seat to Dunhuang."

【To be honest, I've been using Yeguo to read and keep up with updates lately — easy source switching, lots of reading voices, works on both Android and Apple.】

Kang Liangfu raised his head and saw, standing beside Liu Chengzong, a Mongol nobleman wearing a plain satin yesa robe. A firelock was tucked into the right side of his belt, a silver-handled goose-quill saber hung on the left. His arms were crossed over his chest, holding a large sable-fur hat, exposing a completely bald head with a single braid six or seven inches long on the crown. He was studying Kang Liangfu with a scrutinizing gaze.

If he had to say, Kang Liangfu felt this man actually looked more like a Great Khan than Liu Chengzong did — but that was only picking the taller one among dwarves. Truth was, neither of them looked much like a Great Khan.

Liu Chengzong sat there in his red cotton armor, radiating murderous intent, toying with a meteor hammer in his hand — he looked exactly like a rebel chief replenishing his strength between battles. That Mongol's clothes and ornaments had a touch of nobility, but his bearing was exactly like a goddamn tiger.

Under the stare of these two, Kang Liangfu figured he'd done all the trembling he was ever meant to do in this life.

It wasn't that he'd never seen a Han military commander or a Mongol noble before, but those men all carried the distant aloofness of those who sit atop the world. These two were different — they were steeped head to toe in the kill-without-blinking aura of men fighting for the world.

Before he could wonder who this man was, Liu Chengzong had already introduced him: "Earl of the Marshal's Manor, Baatur of the Dzungars."

Baatur Khong Tayiji placed his right hand over his chest and inclined his body slightly: "Choros Khodokhotsin."

Kang Liangfu hurriedly returned the greeting, thinking to himself: No wonder. No wonder this Mongol chief standing beside Liu Chengzong reeked of killing intent. This fellow wasn't surnamed Borjigin.

The last time he'd heard that name, the Dzungar Khong Tayiji had been one of the leaders invading Qinghai. Now the two of them seemed as thick as thieves, like they shared the same pair of pants.

He explained: "Great King, if we move to Dunhuang — Dunhuang has no people. Neither Shazhou nor Guazhou are self-sufficient places. Without merchant caravans, apart from wandering herders, no one would go there."

"I know. I led troops from there myself. But he's right — the Chijin Guard should go to Dunhuang and revive it. Every year from now on, merchant caravans will pass through — very large caravans."

As Liu Chengzong spoke, he jerked a thumb toward Baatur Khong Tayiji and said: "He's the major shareholder of the caravan. Your duty is to protect the safety of the route."

Kang Liangfu's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Protect him? he thought.

The Dzungar Khong Tayiji can mobilize over ten thousand Oirat Tatars. Even if I take over the entire Chijin Mongols, at best I could scrape together eight hundred herders and three hundred warhorses — barely enough to mount donkeys and mules, and without any decent weapons either.

With what am I supposed to protect him?

If Dunhuang, Guazhou, or Shazhou had even a thousand battle-worthy troops, they'd have founded a kingdom west of the pass ages ago. Would they have spent a hundred years getting bullied by whoever showed up?

Liu Chengzong saw the troubled look on his face and laughed: "I'm not making things hard for you. That's all for later. Right now there's something I need you, the Commander of the Chijin Guard, to handle. Do it well, and I'll assign you three hundred troops and horses to help you recruit the various Hu tribes beyond the pass and build up your presence."

Kang Liangfu's eyes lit up at once. He said hurriedly: "Great King, please speak. This humble one will certainly accomplish it."

"My army needs copper and iron mines. Where are they?"

The Marshal's Manor's army needed to smelt cannonballs. If the war situation inside the pass turned into a stalemate, they might also need to cast a few more cannons at Jiayu Pass to supplement their military supplies.

"Chijin — the Chijin tribe's territory has them. Copper mines, iron mines, gold mines — all of them."

Liu Chengzong furrowed his brow. He felt Kang Liangfu might have some misunderstanding about the quantities an army required: "You sit on iron-ore mountains, yet you're short even on iron pots?"

"The court only permitted us to lend money and collect rent. They forbade us from opening the mountains to mine. Suzhou is a paradise on earth — no one wanted to be driven beyond the pass over a few paltry profits."

Clap.

Liu Chengzong brought his hands together. The problem of military supplies and logistics had just solved itself. Delighted, he laughed: "Excellent. From now on, you no longer need to listen to what the east says... I am the court."