Chapter 544: The Great Benefactor

Yang Qi was actually an old acquaintance of Hong Taiji — they had dealt with each other before.

In late 1625, Yang Qi's official post changed three times in three months around Shanhai Pass and Liaodong. He accomplished virtually nothing, was led in circles by the feints and false reports Hong Taiji put out, and ended up dismissed from office.

Hong Taiji no longer remembered the man. After all, Yang Qi was far from the only one led in circles back then. From Shanhai Pass to Shenyang, every man of name and standing in both Ming and Jin had fallen for his tricks and suffered at his hands — who did Yang Qi think he was?

And it was precisely for this reason that, once Hong Taiji learned of Yang Qi's situation from defectors and captives, he immediately decided to pull his troops back beyond the border.

No one understood this decision.

Zhang Zongheng, inside Datong city, could not have imagined it. In his view, the tipping point in this campaign between Ming and Jin had already been breached with the fall of the two counties. Any further fighting would be hard to sustain as a stalemate — the Later Jin already held the advantage.

With the grain, fodder, population, and supplies of two counties in hand, the Later Jin ought to be fighting with even greater vigor. A large-scale pitched battle was bound to come next.

And it was not only he who failed to understand. Within the Later Jin army, the Aisin Gioro nobles led by Daišan and the Han officers led by Commander-in-Chief Kong Youde did not understand either. So many dead, so many lives thrown away — the gain of two mere county seats was nowhere near enough to offset the losses of this expedition.

What was more, victory on the battlefield seemed within reach. A single battle of annihilation against the Ming relief force would buy them half a month to a month — time enough to storm or persuade the surrender of several more county seats. A surrender now would not count as the first to submit; the tear in men's hearts had already been ripped open.

Hong Taiji thought to himself: What the hell do you lot know!

Liu Chengzong was the great benefactor of this war. The Ming court felt grateful that Liu Chengzong had dispatched troops to their aid.

On the other hand, though Liu Chengzong was a rival for the Khanate of Southern Mongolia, Hong Taiji was utterly elated that Liu Chengzong was sending troops at this moment — the relief had arrived!

First, he believed that although Liu Chengzong was the great chieftain whose martial prowess overshadowed all the bandit hordes of the Central Plains, he was still just a Han brute, hardly worthy of being called his rival.

A very simple example made this clear. He had sent his son Hooge to the Marshal's headquarters, showing the utmost sincerity and respect. Their common enemy was the Great Ming. Befriend the distant, strike the near — they could perfectly well join forces to destroy the Mongols and launch joint raids against the Great Ming.

Geography dictated they were natural allies.

Any outstanding chieftain would surely have first agreed to the alliance, or at the very least, received the envoy properly and exchanged emissaries. Even if hostile, with mountains and rivers and long roads between the two sides, even the will to take up arms against each other lacked the means — why make an enemy unnecessarily?

Yet Liu Chengzong, brimming with the Han-style arrogance of looking down on all beneath him and the shortsightedness of a brute, did not even grant his son a single meeting before sending him back.

A mere bandit with not a shred of political or diplomatic ability — even if all of Mongolia were thrown into his hands, sooner or later he would squander it all.

Second, if Liu Chengzong truly had no political or diplomatic talent whatsoever, then his ability to cut people down must be absolutely outstanding for him to have carved out such a vast domain in the northwest.

A fellow who can cut people down that well — isn't it a fool's game to go head-to-head cutting against him?

Hong Taiji's strategy was very simple. Although the cities of Xuan-Da seemed within easy reach at the moment, they were not yet taken. If he did not use this window to exit the border, and if he underestimated the marching speed or combat strength of the Ming relief force by even a fraction, Liu Chengzong's army would seal off the outside of the border wall, and the Later Jin troops trapped inside the second border wall would get kicked around from all sides.

After all, among the five forces — Outer Mongolia, Southern Mongolia, the Great Ming, the Marshal's headquarters, and the Later Jin — the Later Jin army, having broken through and won the surrender of two cities, was the richest. The other four might very well unite in common hatred out of covetousness for that wealth.

But as soon as the Later Jin army exited the border and leaped out of this encirclement into the territory of the Kharachin Mongols, the situation would change entirely.

Yang Qi, whom Liu Chengzong had sent to Southern Mongolia, would have to fight the Great Ming. If not the Great Ming, then he would have to fight the Southern Mongols. This had nothing to do with what he wanted — men have to eat. Hong Taiji did not believe the Marshal's headquarters possessed transport capacity greater than the Later Jin's.

Of course, if they did not end up fighting over grain, Hong Taiji would be even happier. If you don't fight, you starve. Once you've starved enough, the brilliant and divinely martial Tiancong Khan will come to your rescue. As for the elite peasant army that had shifted its operations to the northwest, Hong Taiji would not mind enfeoffing another Commander-in-Chief of equal standing to Kong Youde.

That, however, was what the Later Jin army knew as they were on the road of retreat.

Within the Ming army's field of vision, Zhang Zongheng had no idea Hong Taiji was retreating, because during this period of the Later Jin incursion into Xuan-Da, Hong Taiji had given Zhang Zongheng the impression of a pen pal.

He wrote him letters every day — long ones, short ones, truths, lies, boasts — the letters contained everything, a mix of feint and real, sometimes true, sometimes false, leaving one afraid to believe anything.

The day Hong Taiji first spoke of peace talks and preparing to withdraw, the next day Lingqiu city was lost. No one believed talk of peace and withdrawal after that.

One day he hurled abuse, saying he had only five hundred troops and the Ming still dared not come out to fight. The next day six hundred Ming troops sallied forth and were ambushed by twenty thousand Later Jin men. No one believed talk of just four or five hundred men after that.

But the moment you disbelieved his words, disbelieved what he was showing you, he would turn utterly sincere — actually sending just over five hundred men to flaunt their might beneath the city walls, then stealing away with the main force under cover of one dark night. By the time anyone realized, the main body of troops was long gone.

Meanwhile, on the Southern Mongolian battlefield, Yang Qi's vanguard had already followed the north bank of the Yellow River and reached Chilechuan, west of Guihua City.

Behind them stretched the boundless Mongol encampments on both banks of the Yellow River. The three Khans of Outer Mongolia, spurred into action by Yang Qi, had agreed to join this campaign for control of Southern Mongolia.

The terms were simple. They were responsible for following Sechen Taiji to eliminate the Mongols occupying the old Chahar lands. They did not need to engage the Later Jin army — that was Yang Qi's affair. Once the deed was done, the lands of the Southern Mongolia Protectorate in Ordos, Hohhot, and Ulanqab would be open for the herders of the three Outer Mongolia tribes to graze.

In truth, this held little allure for the three Khans of Outer Mongolia. Although Southern Mongolia had the best grazing lands, grazing land was not worth much to the Mongols of this era. Outer and Southern Mongolia had no shortage of land for herding sheep.

In all the vast expanse of Southern Mongolia, there were really only two good places. One was Fengzhou Beach, which had nurtured the Tümed tribe; the other was the old Chahar homeland that had originally belonged to the Mongol Khagan.

These two places shared one common feature: both could be farmed.

Obviously, Liu Chengzong of the Marshal's headquarters had now established the Southern Mongolia Protectorate and would certainly not permit them to farm there.

But in any matter under heaven, only when there is just one man can things go exactly as one wishes. The moment a second person appears, getting anything done requires compromise.

What was more, now five different forces were crammed into the not particularly large region of Southern Mongolia and Xuan-Da. It was patently obvious that whatever happened here, the outcome would satisfy none of the parties involved.

The three Khans of Outer Mongolia agreed to send troops only because they had no choice. They had to pick someone to fight. But weighing offensive will, difficulty, and cost in comprehensive consideration, ranked from greatest to least, the order was: Southern Mongolia, the Great Ming, Hong Taiji, Liu Chengzong.

The Great Ming was wealthy but hard to fight. Hong Taiji was similar, and if they struck him this year, the Later Jin army would retaliate next year. The good thing was that Hong Taiji was right there in Xuan-Da; if fortune favored them, they might kill him outright and be done with it once and for all.

Liu Chengzong was the one they were least willing to fight, because these people did not even have a damn noble among them — poor and fierce. Like Hong Taiji, they could retaliate against them, and on top of that, Liu Chengzong was not even here.

Southern Mongolia was not easy to fight either. After all, those people had already submitted to the Later Jin; striking them would inevitably provoke the Later Jin. It was simply that the three Khans of Outer Mongolia truly had no other way. So it was not that Yang Qi spurred them on, but rather that, as they were preparing to attack Southern Mongolia, Yang Qi of the Marshal's headquarters proactively joined the war and generously took upon himself the toughest assault tasks.

A great benefactor!

In a ravine at the foot of the Yin Mountains, Vanguard Regional Commander Bai Wenxuan stood with several military officers like a junior, beside a dugout shelter, watching a squad of Marshal's headquarters veterans construct a complete concealed fortification. He nodded repeatedly, full of praise.

The fortification built by the squad consisted of two rows of dugouts, three in front and two behind, staggered to break the line. The entrance of each dugout was fitted with an earthen stove and an extended smoke flue. The entire concealed fortification was not difficult to build, yet it could serve as a hidden winter camp.

The officer demonstrating for Bai Wenxuan was Hu Sanhuai, a former Guyuan mutineer, a veteran of the Marshal's headquarters, and a legendary figure spoken of in men's tales.

Men like Zhao Kebian became legends by achieving fame and success in a single night. Hu Sanhuai was exactly the opposite. He held the rank of Regional Commander, one of the rare few in the Marshal's headquarters who had risen to that rank purely by seniority.

Hu Sanhuai could be counted among the earliest border army officers to join Liu Chengzong. He, Wang Wenxiu, Yang Yao, Wu Yangchen, and the others were from the same batch of Guyuan mutineers. At the time, his rank on the Ming side had been Squad Commander.

Later, as they followed Liu Chengzong campaigning across various regions, the opportunity for Hu Sanhuai and Wu Yangchen to lead troops in battle simply never arose, because Hu Sanhuai's partner was Shi Chengwo, and Wu Yangchen's partner was Liu Chengyun.

Liu Chengzong would sooner send Chengyun onto the battlefield than ever send Shi Chengwo.

Hu Sanhuai was always stationed in the rear with Shi Chengwo, so naturally he had no chance to earn merit on the battlefield. Fortunately, Liu Chengzong always remembered him. After all, if not merit, there was toil. Whenever men of the same cohort were promoted, regardless of whether they actually received military command, Hu Sanhuai and Wu Yangchen's pay and rank would be raised accordingly.

So these two brothers, in the Marshal's headquarters amid years of continuous warfare, spent six years grinding their way up to Regional Commander purely on seniority.

But in truth, the higher they climbed, the more awkward it became. Neither of the two brothers had ever commanded more than five hundred men. The higher their rank, the less likely they were to be sent into battle.

Fortunately, with the establishment of the Southern Mongolia Protectorate, Liu Chengzong dispatched the pair of them to work alongside Yang Qi. The former Guyuan Squad Commanders thus returned to serve under their former Guyuan Chief Commander.

Bai Wenxuan marveled at the earthen stoves and dugouts. The setup was devious. The entire dugout rose only one chi above the ground. With eleven or twelve men crouched inside, covered with earth and sod on top, it was utterly invisible from twenty or thirty paces away. It had a smoke flue, so even cooking a meal could not be spotted from a distance. The front also had a small two-cun-high window for ventilation and observing the enemy — and if necessary, a musket could be thrust out to fire.

Never mind overwintering — even in ordinary times, building a few of these on the camp perimeter would be excellent for ambushing cavalry scouts and sentries.

The most wondrous impression the Marshal's headquarters gave Bai Wenxuan was that, although its political system was extremely crude, militarily everything was standardized, always one step ahead of everyone else.

Take similar field fortifications, for example. The Western Brigade built them too. Sometimes sentries also needed to dig a hole to hide themselves in. But that was where it ended. How to dig the hole, how big, how many men — no one paid attention to such things. It was just like their cannons: use whatever they picked up, cast their own if they had iron, cast them however — as long as it went bang, it was good enough.

In contrast, the Marshal's headquarters plans every step, as if Liu Chengzong had been preparing for a national war against the Great Ming from the moment he raised his troops — firearms, cannons, even cannon carts, all were regulated and systematized.

Even on this expedition, though Bai Wenxuan's thousand men were not considered core troops, their supplies were not shortchanged in the slightest. Rations were limited for everyone, but every squad of ten soldiers was issued three jars of oil.

Namely: fire oil, animal oil, and vegetable oil.

Right now, his Western Camp soldiers were learning to dig pit shelters in the gullies. Once finished, they used the animal oil on earthen stoves to fry locusts, each man frying a big pouchful to keep as snacks.

Hu Sanhuai had meant to dissuade them, but after just a few words he stopped himself: "That oil… never mind."

Bai Wenxuan noticed Hu Sanhuai's hesitation and asked, "General Hu, that oil — isn't it for us to cook with?"

"Cook what?"

Hu Sanhuai couldn't help but smile wryly, thinking to himself that Bai Wenxuan had misunderstood the Marshal's headquarters' standard of treatment.

But you couldn't blame him. After all, Liu Chengzong spared no effort in improving his soldiers' welfare, always feeling that they had suffered during the campaigns across northern Shaanxi, resulting in a pattern of compensatory treatment that swung high and low.

When the Marshal's headquarters had ample grain stores, the soldiers' treatment was better; when stores were low, treatment dipped a little. And Bai Wenxuan's Western Camp troops had submitted just as Liu Chengzong finished the Gansu expedition and arrived in Lanzhou specifically to let his soldiers rest easy, so their treatment was even better than usual.

It was precisely this that made Bai Wenxuan mistakenly think the Marshal's troops always enjoyed such outrageous treatment, leading to the misunderstanding that animal oil and vegetable oil were issued on campaign for cooking.

Hu Sanhuai explained: "The fire oil is for emergency fire-starting and as medicine for skin sores. The vegetable oil is for wiping blades and disinfecting wounds. The animal oil is for applying a little to the face in winter to prevent frostbite, or when camping in the wild and insects crawl into your ears…"

He pointed to his earlobe. "A dab of animal oil can lure the insect out. If a wound festers and breeds maggots, it can be used for that too. None of these oils are meant for us to eat."

"I…"

Bai Wenxuan stared wide-eyed. The moment he heard how useful these oils were, he immediately turned to tell his soldiers to stop frying locusts — that was mere appetite. Good food you could eat, bad food you could eat; as long as there was food, grain was not the issue.

But medicine, wound treatment, frost protection — these were major assets that preserved combat strength and reduced non-combat casualties, far more important than taste.

But Hu Sanhuai stopped him right away: "A great battle is imminent. Letting the men fry some snacks to carry along does no harm. Right now we're marching east into the desert south of the Gobi. Once we take Guihua City, I imagine we won't lack for animal oil come winter."

Just then, a rider galloped into the gully — it was Yang Qi's personal guard. He came forward and saluted: "Generals, the Commander has orders. The Tumote tribe's defenses at Guihua City have been scouted. The three tribes of the northern desert have already mobilized and are advancing. The Commander orders you both to break camp and move out to reinforce the line."

Bai Wenxuan and Hu Sanhuai exchanged a glance and immediately ordered the troops to stop what they were doing, ready their equipment, and prepare to march. Half a shichen later, the two led their fully armored cavalry column out of the Yin Mountain pass, and saw, amidst sky-churning dust, an unending Mongol cavalry force sweeping eastward in boundless, surging waves.

Good afternoon!