Chapter 480: Loyalty and Brotherhood

The Invincible General cannon lured in the silence, yet Tang Tong, a man of the Battle Method school, remained utterly unmoved by it all. Instead, he took two more heavy cannon volleys — a picked artillery squad was mown down on the Gobi under a spray of thirteen hundred pellets, the dead lying heaped upon one another.

The front-line firearms could not stem the tide, the collapse growing more apparent by the moment, while on the flanks the border-army horse troops in their red-faced iron brigandines prowled ever more urgently. The cavalry's double saddle-sockets were crammed with arrows over a meter long; three wedge formations, from every direction, sought to gallop-shoot and charge the line under their squad commanders' lead.

Some scattered riders even dismounted and circled behind the hill at the formation's rear, some shooting, some charging.

But a few great arrows with shafts thicker than a man's finger, a few soldiers of surpassing skill and reckless valor — these still could do nothing to alter the battle. What they were up against were not raw bandits fresh from dropping their hoes in the fields, but professional soldiers who, like themselves, made slaughter their trade.

Charge after fierce charge was beaten back; brimming courage soured into counsel urging the commander to sound retreat. The soldiers' hearts were at last relayed layer by layer to Tang Mingshi's ears, and he could do nothing but accept defeat.

It was not that the Marshal Army's position was unbreakable — he had always believed that soldiers were soldiers, none inherently stronger than another, and they had numbers while the foe had few; the Marshal Army could not hold out much longer.

But the pond-scouts scattered on the battle's fringe were reporting in: one after another, Marshal Army pond-scout squads racing from afar were closing in on their flanks, forcing him to grimly issue the order to prepare for retreat.

If they did not retreat now, the battlefield situation would very soon become: they few, the foe many.

Tang Tong was sparing with words in this battle. He did not meddle in the on-the-spot command of squad commanders and hundred-commanders below the chiliarch level. He gave only two orders: one, have the heavy musketeers load their barrels with a few three-mace small shot; two, put a stop to Crooked Beam's desire to sally forth.

But that did not mean Tang Tong was calm and collected. Beneath his helmet, his wide-staring eyes looked intensely neurotic; from head to toe he radiated a violent unease. Yet the corner of his mouth twitching from time to time and his fingers that could find no place to rest betrayed an unspeakable excitement.

Only Tang Tong himself knew… he had won. He was about to win!

At a certain moment, the scattered musket fire within the gun-smoke across the battlefield suddenly flared fierce again. The Invincible General cannon abruptly went mad, both pieces firing in rapid succession, and even the Hundred-Tiger Volley Cart, which had gone unused the whole time, came wobbling to life, screeching out rockets.

Tang Tong suddenly leapt up, shouting: "Crooked Beam! Li Baliang!"

Crooked Beam, shielding himself from the sky-blotting rockets with his shield, heard the call. He thought his chiliarch was a madman — when others were excited, he cowered unmoved; when others were afraid, he jumped up in excitement.

Crooked Beam scurried over, eyes fixed on his shield, back hunched, listening to the ding-ding-clang-clang on his own body, now and then getting jabbed by an arrowhead that pierced his armor leaf when a rocket's smoke trail hadn't finished burning. He ran to Tang Tong and asked: "General, what is it?"

"Pass the word — prepare to pursue the enemy!"

Pursue your granny's leg, Crooked Beam thought. This was clearly the enemy getting ready to charge in a desperate last stand. "General?"

A cannon shot boomed in the distance. A swath of pellets swept the position. Most soldiers stayed low, crouched behind cover. A few in the formation who had no time to dodge were hit and cried out in alarm. Tang Tong ignored Crooked Beam's bewilderment and merely uttered a seemingly meaningless: "Six!"

At the same time, he had already turned and gone to fetch his horse. Li Baliang, who had thrown himself flat during the cannonade, arrived belatedly and looked in confusion at the thoroughly baffled Crooked Beam. The two stared at each other, then saw Tang Tong leading his horse back. Seeing the two still hadn't moved, he said urgently: "Crooked Beam, take the Left Company and pursue the enemy! Li Baliang, take the Right Company, mount up, intercept the enemy cavalry, and tie them down in a melee!"

Seeing the two still half a beat slow to react, Tang Tong grabbed Crooked Beam by the lapels of his red-faced iron brigandine, their faces nearly touching: "Either you stay and look after the wounded, and I go win glory and build my career!"

The two squad-commanders were not deliberately defying orders. It was simply because Tang Tong was a surrendered general. Under normal circumstances, when Tang Tong gave an order that aligned with what they themselves wanted to do, no problem arose; but when Tang Tong's order ran counter to their own opinion, their subconscious minds did not treat those words as a military order.

Belatedly, a soldier's instinct returned to Crooked Beam's brain. He exchanged a glance with Li Baliang and hurriedly clasped his fists in salute to accept the order.

The two squad-commanders came from diametrically opposite backgrounds — one was a Ningxia border commoner who had joined the army, the other a Yan'an peddler turned bandit. Neither had much schooling, but both knew that military orders are like mountains.

Because they had paid the price.

This is a lesson you cannot learn simply by losing a battle. Those who defy orders, flee first, and survive will still flee the next time they face a hard fight.

And Crooked Beam and Li Baliang happened to be two men who had been betrayed by those who fled first, left behind, and survived.

At the Battle of Yellow Dragon Mountain, Crooked Beam had still been one of He Huchen's soldiers. During the retreat, the routed troops of Mobile Corps Commander Shen Guangxian had smashed through the second line of defense, getting him captured. He surrendered to Liu Chengzong along with his commander, Dai Daozi.

Li Baliang, for his part, had thrown in with Luo Rucai. Those events were so hazy in his memory they were barely a blur. All he remembered was that before he'd had a chance to eat that day, Amu's horse troops had come howling through and kicked their camp clean. A feathered arrow came flying, and then he knew nothing at all.

When he woke, it was three days later on a jolting donkey cart. Luo Rucai had sent men to drag him back. There were no medical means — if he hadn't woken, they would have just found a ravine to dump him in. Fortunately, his life was tough; the moment he woke, he went right on fighting for Luo Rucai.

In truth, it was his peddler's identity that had saved him. Traveling the villages to sell and buy stock, he knew where the wealthy households with good stuff were.

They did not know what one must do on a battlefield to surely survive, but they both knew what one could do on a battlefield to get more people killed.

The soldiers of the Left Squad-Commander's Company finished their preparations behind the earthen rampart at the front. At last, after the brief pause that followed the enemy formation's final cannon volley, the loud, piercing wail of the suona horn rang out from the Marshal Army's center.

From the gun-smoke that had yet to clear before the enemy line, scattered musket shots still rang out. Blind-fired lead balls punched the smoke thick with holes.

The artillery hundred-commander fished out his own lapel-fronted cloth-faced iron brigandine from the cart carrying shells and powder. The red cloth face had long been dyed black by gunpowder, but he still threw it on over his mail without hesitation, fastening every strap. He turned to look at the soldiers in heavy armor and gave the final fire order of this battle.

Dust shook and rose with the discharge of the thousand-catty heavy cannon. Right on the heels of the lead balls and iron shot tearing through the gun-smoke, plank after plank was laid across the trench. One after another, squad commanders in red armor, their helmets topped with tasseled spears, climbed onto the earthen rampart.

Blade after blade of the Marshal Army squad commanders' gleaming goose-quill sabers pointed straight forward atop the rampart. Their bright, clear surfaces reflected the heavy musketeers within the gun-smoke, who, having fired their last volley, dropped their firearms and hefted their fifteen-foot great spears.

Banners and pennons unfurled. At last it had come to the phase of battle the Marshal Manor's musketeers and gunners excelled at. Ten columns, structured with saber-and-shield men in front, spears and pikes behind, and war-bowmen on the flanks, charged the Ming army line still shrouded in gun-smoke.

Beyond Crooked Beam's expectations — as if Tang Tong possessed the gift of foresight — his troops met no attack from lead balls or arrow showers during their advance.

Shields surged and broke through the gun-smoke. Their vision suddenly opened wide, only to find that what greeted them was not a forest of spears and pikes, but the backs of the Guard-the-Barbarians Army as they spurred their horses and fled.

The Ming army had run. The moment the cannons began their final roar, they had loaded their wounded onto the war carts and the backs of warhorses, carrying as many corpses as they could, and retreated northward in sequence.

Only the horse troops on the two wings remained as a rear guard to delay any possible pursuit. But clearly, they now had no attention to spare for pursuers, because Li Baliang's horse troops were already bearing down on them.

Across the vast Gobi southwest of the Zhangye oasis, the two armies split into two routes and four streams, churning up rolling clouds of dust in flight and pursuit.

And on the battle's farther periphery, Gao Yingdeng was leading his troops at a rush toward the battlefield.

Just a quarter-hour earlier, Gao Yingdeng, already confident of victory, had been delighted that Tang Tong had tied down twice his number of enemy troops, creating the opportunity for a perfect annihilation.

With Tang Tong having fought the battle to this stage, it did not matter what combat strength the reinforcements had — this Ming army had already lost.

Because politics is a game of chess, and war is a tool. Using a tool is an action, and every action has a purpose. Therefore, there is only one way to win a war — achieve the objective.

As for casualties, losses, enemies killed — all those numbers are merely surface phenomena that quantify the result of a war for intuitive reference.

In this battle, Gao Yingdeng did not know what the Guard-the-Barbarians Army's objective was in marching south, but whatever it was, it was certainly not to take a beating and then retreat because they couldn't outrun it.

Now, Tang Tong had not been annihilated, had not retreated, and had successfully lured the enemy into battle. Without question, the victor of this clash was Tang Tong.

Even if Tang Tong's chiliarch headquarters was down to a single man, and this Ming army had lost only a single man, it was still the Ming army that had lost the fight.

Since they had lost, their morale was bound to be affected. What was more, having failed to achieve their objective even with double the numbers in a frontal assault, they were already birds startled by the mere twang of a bowstring.

The moment they saw Marshal Manor reinforcements reach the battlefield — Gao Yingdeng thought to himself — the order the Grand Marshal had given him could be carried out with ease.

But just at that moment, the pond-scouts spread on the periphery brought word that the situation had changed: "General, the enemy troops at Gaotai have poured out in two routes — one to the south, one to the west."

The first relay passed by the pond-scout flags did not include the specific numbers of the two divided forces, but Gao Yingdeng had a fair estimate of the enemy strength at Gaotai. There were six to ten thousand Ming troops there — absolutely not a number he could handle alone.

Even in Liu Chengzong's baiting stratagem, the enemy legion's pouring out in full force had not been factored in as a consideration… It was, in itself, an utterly preposterous thing. The enemy had labored painstakingly to build camps and ramparts — how could they possibly all come out of their fortifications?

A pond-scout's first relay could not be wrong.

True, the first relay was not highly accurate, but that applied to complex intelligence over long distances. For simple intelligence like this — containing only the enemy's movement, no precise numbers — and with a short transmission distance, an error was very hard to make.

Two enemy columns. The one from north to south was meant to link up with the defeated Guard-the-Barbarians Army — that, Gao Yingdeng could easily deduce. And the one from east to west appeared to be trying to seal off Gao Yingdeng's line of retreat — also easy to understand.

But something was wrong here.

Gao Yingdeng's advancing steps halted. On one hand, he had the pond-scouts relay the intelligence back to Liu Chengzong in the rear; on the other, he privately pondered the reason the enemy had poured out in full force.

He was the bait. Tang Tong had been marching under the cover of reconnaissance riders to begin with, and once battle was joined his position was also scouted by the enemy's reconnaissance riders. That Li Hongsi was trying to mass forces to destroy him seemed understandable.

The problem, however, was that the Ming army's intelligence on the Marshal's movements should not have been limited to him alone — it should also have included Mo Yujing, who was leading Mongol troops to build a dam on the upper reaches of the Heihe River.

Gao Yingdeng thought to himself: they've surrounded us so tightly not a drop of water could leak through, yet they've tossed the fortifications built on the high platform to Mo Yujing? That makes no sense.

At this thought, he gave an order to the reconnaissance soldiers: "Get this news to Battalion Commander Tang, and spread out eastward to keep watch on the high platform. They should have reinforcements coming."

The battlefield situation now had become several semicircles centered on Tang Tong's unit. North of Tang Tong was the retreating Zhenyi Army; north of the Zhenyi Army was Gao Yingdeng, attempting to intercept them; and Gao Yingdeng was in fact also surrounded by Li Hongsi.

Fortunately, with the reconnaissance riders' foreknowledge of the enemy's moves, Gao Yingdeng had a thorough understanding of his own circumstances.

The problem before him was a single one: within a limited time, to select the optimal solution from among annihilating the Zhenyi Army, linking up with Tang Tong, and breaking out of the encirclement.

The first he abandoned was annihilating the Zhenyi Army. There was no time to accept their surrender, sweep the battlefield, or thoroughly kill off nearly two thousand troops — otherwise he would lose the chance to break out of the encirclement.

As for the chance to break out, there were two. The first was to abandon Tang Tong's unit, turn west, and possibly collide with that westward-advancing Ming army — there was a strong chance he could run and link up with Liu Chengzong.

The second was to link up with Tang Tong, but then heading west would be a step too late; they would have to force their way through the Ming army, or flee eastward from the only direction in the encirclement that had not yet closed — and that way they might run straight into enemy troops hurrying over from the Ganzhou garrisons.

There was no foolproof plan.

Right at this critical juncture, Tang Tong, having received intelligence, actually sent word to Gao Yingdeng, telling him not to worry about him and to withdraw directly west.

Gao Yingdeng clutched the letter and was stunned for a moment. For the first time, he felt that this surrendered general who had come over from the government army was not only good at fighting battles, but also deeply loyal and true.

In truth, however, this was not Tang Tong looking out for his allies. Quite the opposite — he was afraid that waiting for Gao Yingdeng to rescue him would drag him down.

Faced with this situation, Tang Tong, like Gao Yingdeng, appeared on the surface to have many choices, but in reality there was only one optimal solution.

He had considered surrender. Yet although he was at the innermost part of the encirclement and his own side, including the troops in Gao Yingdeng's camp, were in grave danger, on the larger battlefield scale, the fact that they were surrounded precisely proved that the Grand Marshal's baiting of the enemy had succeeded.

The Ming army would act this way, Tang Tong thought, surely because reinforcements from the east had arrived. The high platform and Camel City would soon have new defending troops garrisoned, which was what allowed Li Hongsi to free his hands and pour out in full force.

And the fact that Li Hongsi had headed south first without waiting for the two armies to converge was clearly a tremendous success reaped by Liu Chengzong's baiting plan... The original intent had been to lure out one portion and weaken the defensive troops manning the fortifications; now, with over ten thousand troops pouring out in full force, the evenly matched situation in Gansu would soon be shattered by a single battle.

This meant that surrendering to the Ming army was not a wise choice. The remaining options, then, were feigned surrender, linking up with Gao Yingdeng to break through, and breaking through alone.

On the one hand, Tang Tong did not believe Gao Yingdeng would definitely come to his rescue. On the other hand, even if Gao Yingdeng did come, Tang Tong saw it as a waste of time — once their forces combined, no one would be able to escape.

The truth was that Tang Tong wanted to abandon Gao Yingdeng, because Gao Yingdeng was a bigger target with more troops, and his marching speed was clearly slower.

If both their armies headed west, Tang Tong did not need to outrun the Ming army — he only needed to outrun Gao Yingdeng. The one the Ming army intercepted would certainly be Gao Yingdeng, while he could lead his troops to link up smoothly with Liu Chengzong, and might even turn around and join the campaign to rescue Gao Yingdeng.

He never would have imagined that Gao Yingdeng would be so moved by his letter that he directly abandoned the option of withdrawing west and made up his mind: first link up with Tang Tong, then break out toward the gap on the eastern side of the encirclement.

A messenger came riding a fast horse across the Gobi with a clatter of hooves: "Battalion Commander Tang, General Gao orders you to quickly gather your troops and advance northwest. He bids you rest assured — the Marshal's headquarters does not abandon any of its subordinates."

Tang Tong felt like slapping himself twice across the face.

If he had not sent that letter, Gao Yingdeng might well not have come to rescue him. Now that he had sent it, here came an order — leading his troops himself to run and find Liu Chengzong would be disobeying orders.

Half a shichen later, Tang Tong, having gathered his troops and advanced northwest, caught sight of the loyal and true Gao Yingdeng.

Gao Yingdeng was holding a letter in his hand, and upon meeting he handed it straight to Tang Tong. On it was written, clear as day, intelligence from the central army: the reconnaissance cavalry had already ascertained that a full-strength Ming army wagon fort of four thousand men from the high platform and Camel City was advancing west, attempting to cut off the rear of his camp.

Gao Yingdeng said to Tang Tong with a beaming smile: "Come on, the west holds a wagon fort we can't bite through — we advance east... From here on, the battlefield belongs to the Grand Marshal."