Chapter 578: Fengxiang Prefecture

Tang Jiuzhou on Six Coils Mountain was on the verge of tears but had none left to shed.

That day he had led his troops charging out of Jingfu Mountain, and the one who met him head-on was Grand Marshal's headquarters great general Gao Yingdeng.

Tang Jiuzhou had always assumed those were two battalions; seeing them build only one encampment, with one battalion scattered outside it, he figured the two battalions were on bad terms.

This sort of thing was very common — take the Zhejiang troops and Sichuan troops at the Battle of Hun River, for instance, who came to blows even before the battle started, so naturally they could not coordinate seamlessly once on the battlefield.

So Tang Jiuzhou planned to smash one first, then crush the other — he'd be Nurhaci himself.

He never imagined that Gao Yingdeng's force was in fact a single battalion, so naturally they built only one encampment; the reason half the soldiers were placed outside was precisely to spare them the cumbersome step of filing out through the camp gate when he broke out, so they could immediately chase and strike.

Anyway, the season was favorable — it was the fourth month, the prime of spring — and the Grand Marshal's troops were already used to sleeping in the open field; resting outside the camp was more comfortable than being inside, and they would have found sleeping on a bed in a civilian house downright awkward.

Tang Jiuzhou had prepared exceptionally thoroughly for charging the enemy line, but he could not withstand the fact that Gao Yingdeng's camp commandant was named Tang Tong.

This former Ming mid-ranking officer of surrendered-general background had made his greatest contribution by having the heavy musketeers change their standard loading: in addition to the one-tael-five-mace heavy ball, they now loaded three three-mace balls, which, under the same powder charge, enormously increased the heavy musket's killing power against dense formations.

In the approach phase, Tang Jiuzhou's cavalry fought Gao Yingdeng's cavalry under Li Balaing to a standstill; before the dense battle lines entered the hundred-pace range, his artillery, relying on the six-round rapid fire of breech-loading falconets, even managed to suppress Gao Yingdeng's thousand-catty cannon for a short time.

But once the distance between the two armies closed to a hundred paces, the situation reversed in an instant.

At this range, the Grand Marshal's army, forged single-handedly by Liu the Lion, could be anyone's nightmare.

Zhang Yang's jingal muskets, with their long barrels and large bores, spewed lead balls that pierced men and horses alike, while every volley of the heavy muskets ensured that an entire rank of men was struck squarely by shot… being struck did not necessarily mean dropping dead; at such a distance, the three-mace ball lacked the power to penetrate armor, but it was terrifying.

A firearm that could kill a man in one shot was not frightening — people knew to dodge it when they saw it; a firearm that could not kill a man in one shot was also not frightening — people would be very brave.

The most frightening thing was a firearm where you did not know whether it would kill a man or not: bang went the shot, and what struck you might be a heavy one-tael-five-mace ball that punched a hole straight through man and armor, or it might be a tiny three-mace ball that flattened into an innocuous little lead pancake against cloth-backed iron armor.

Torture!

For the first time in six years of rampaging across the Central Plains, Tang Jiuzhou discovered that his army would no longer obey his commands.

Although this assault came fast and left just as fast — the Marshal's army opposite fired only a few volleys before shifting formation eastward, conveniently leaving open the mountain road up Six Coils Mountain — Tang Jiuzhou seized the opportunity to retreat uphill, intending to use the terrain to fight a defensive battle from the high ground.

He never imagined that Gao Yingdeng had not the slightest interest in him, merely sending cavalry to intercept half his baggage train before encamping at the foot of the mountain, putting on an attitude of "if you don't come down, I won't come up."

At that time, Tang Jiuzhou still did not know that on this mountain there was a man named Wang Wenxiu, travel-worn and dusty, who had ridden all the way from Lanzhou just to stage a play called "catching a turtle in a jar."

Tang Jiuzhou went up and nearly died of fright: ahead of him was Marshal's army brigade commander Wang Wenxiu, behind him Marshal's army fierce general Gao Yingdeng; both mountain paths were blocked, so he could only scurry wildly about the mountain.

Yet the mountain itself was hardly peaceful — as they marched, the troops stepped on landmines laid by Yang Chengzu; as they marched, a Luo Rucai burst out of the mountain forest and gave them a savage beating; as they marched, Li Wanqing ambushed them from the roadside with a volley of musketry; and on top of that, their provisions were insufficient.

In the end, after great difficulty, they built a stockade on the mountain, but the mental strain was so immense that a night-terror panic broke out while they slept — they hacked at their own men for half the night, the unending roar of gunfire and battle cries scaring the wits out of Luo Rucai, who was keeping watch in the forest. The next day, all he saw was a camp strewn with corpses; the greater part of the battalion had dissolved on the spot and scattered, breaking through the defensive line all the way and fleeing into Jingfu Mountain.

Meanwhile, on the other side, the main force of the Grand Marshal's army, personally led by Liu Chengzong, had also broken through the court's defensive line after capturing Longzhou; armored horses and gleaming blades at last left behind the endless, unbroken mountain ranges and entered the fertile Guanzhong Plain.

As for the military situation, however, Liu Chengzong himself did not know whether his advance should be called smooth or not.

On the first day after ascending the great tableland, his marching army was caught in a hailstorm; many soldiers were battered bloody, but it was also because of this hailstorm that Wei Qian'er at the front line sent word directly: the seat of Fengxiang Prefecture had been taken.

Wei Qian'er had originally been at his wits' end against the city of Fengxiang Prefecture. Fengxiang was different from other places — it was essentially a place of gentry self-rule.

Its last prefect was named Shen Jin, who had led the officials and people in building the Shen Canal and done many good deeds, but that was back when the Wanli Emperor was still alive — ancient history.

By all reasoning, such a place ought to have been easier to attack, but Fengxiang Prefecture differed in two respects: first, the local landlord militia was resolute in attitude; second, they were superbly equipped, the battlements lined entirely with red-barbarian cannon, which in counter-battery fire could completely suppress the few field thousand-catty cannon in Wei Qian'er's hands.

The man responsible for defending the city was a local juren-degree gentry named Sun Peng. Ever since the third year of the Chongzhen reign, when Catholicism reached Fengxiang Prefecture, he had been baptized and entered the faith, befriending Wang Zheng and Han Yun and learning a great deal from them; moreover, emulating the loyalist militia Wang Zheng had organized in Sanyuan, he too had established a landlord militia in Fengxiang Prefecture, melted down Buddhist statues to cast cannon, and conducted the defense with impressive vigor and success.

Wei Qian'er had followed Liu Chengzong into battle, and the tactics he had mastered were all things Liu the Lion had done.

Imperceptibly influenced by what he had seen and heard, the best method of attacking a city he knew was, when faced with a strong city and solid fortress, to smash the battlements with artillery so that the defenders could not stand on the walls, then scale the walls, seize them, and engage in close combat.

But this time, the defending guns on the wall were heavier than his assault guns and outranged them, and they had the cover of battlements besides, so he could gain no advantage in the artillery duel.

He then prepared to emulate Liu Chengzong's method at Jiayu Pass by digging a tunnel to blow up the wall, but the city of Fengxiang Prefecture stood on the banks of the East Gully River and the Jujube River, and there was a moat besides — the tunnel simply could not be dug through.

Since the methods for a quick victory would not work, Wei Qian'er had no choice but to resort to the slow approach. The large battalion he commanded had a full complement of officers and possessed the technical skill to cast cannon in the field and manufacture siege equipment, so he recruited hands on the spot to fell timber and mine iron, rushing to build siege engines and cast heavier siege cannon.

Fengxiang Prefecture had suffered a locust plague the previous year, and now, before the fifth month, it was precisely the time when the old grain was exhausted and the new not yet ripe; the region was in the grip of famine, the roads lined with common folk clinging to the army begging for food, so recruiting hands was exceptionally easy.

But no one expected the hailstorm to come so suddenly; one bout of hail battered Wei Qian'er's great camp into a state of dejection.

Wei Qian'er, unable to take the city despite his assaults outside the walls, was in great mental turmoil. He felt that he had been the first to lead troops into Guanzhong, and the Grand Marshal had entrusted him with the vital mission of attacking the city of Fengxiang Prefecture, yet he himself was helpless against such a strong city, and he was deeply ashamed.

This, in truth, could hardly be called his fault; if blame there was, it could only be blamed on having always followed Liu Chengzong into battle.

Liu Chengzong fought in a very artful way: he never attacked strong cities that were hard to take, never fought enemies that were hard to defeat; he would bypass when he should bypass, retreat when he should retreat. That was why he was ever-victorious and irresistible — it was because he only fought opponents he could beat, only attacked cities he could take.

Normally, attacking a strong city, in any era, took months and years.

But how could others know his inner state?

Wei Qian'er simply felt that if the Grand Marshal were here, the city would have collapsed on its own.

So his sense of defeat was intense. In the end, first came a light rain, then the hailstorm descended, battering Wei Qian'er, who had been airing his armor, black and blue all over and bloodying his head — never in his life had he been in a more wretched state.

He never imagined that just when his army was utterly bedraggled and on the verge of losing its conviction of certain victory — the defenders sallied out of the city.

Sun Peng led the landlord militia he had personally trained out of the city!

In all fairness, it was indeed the best possible moment for a sortie: the five-thousand-odd soldiers of Wei Qian'er's great camp, having scattered to take cover from the hail, were dispersed among the civilian houses and villages in the outskirts around the city's four gates, and heavy weapons like jingals and cannon were also unusable because of the rain.

If the frontier troops who had campaigned across the realm and quelled rebellions had sallied forth, they could very likely have routed Wei Qian'er.

But a landlord militia?

Wei Qian'er's great camp did not even use their firearms; with only blades, spears, and strong bows, they beat the sortieing defenders into utter disarray, then followed the fleeing troops and surged straight into the barbican, taking the city of Fengxiang Prefecture before the siege tower outside the walls had even had its wheels finished.

This sudden turn of events left Wei Qian'er with a foolish grin plastered permanently on his face.

It was not until Liu Chengzong arrived at the city of Fengxiang Prefecture and ordered the granaries opened that Wei Qian'er could no longer smile.

The granaries were utterly empty; an old rat making a tour inside would have had to come out wiping its tears.

Liu Chengzong's face was ashen. He did not care about this city of Fengxiang Prefecture. Ever since he had led his army out of the mountains and into the plains of Fengxiang Prefecture, he had assumed this was a fertile land untouched by the scourge of war; he never expected that the famine in Fengxiang Prefecture far exceeded that of the barren lands west of Six Coils Mountain, and was even more shocking than what he had seen back then in Yan'an Prefecture.

Everywhere on the great tableland, desolate tracts met the eye; starving refugees choked the roads, and across the wilderness, dirt paths trampled by crowds through the fields were everywhere. Even some good fields near rivers and irrigation channels lay untilled; village after village had become ruins, and only in the fields near the fortified manors of remote great households could one see signs of cultivation and life.

Just on the hundred-odd li that Liu the Lion led his troops from Longzhou to the city of Fengxiang Prefecture, the scout cavalry picked up more than a dozen abandoned baby boys by the roadside.

In the past, what soldiers like Liu Chengzong, stationed in the forts along the Nine Borders, always heard about was "selling sons and daughters" — the phrase meant selling your children for money; but now, in Fengxiang Prefecture, what they saw was "selling daughters and abandoning sons."

The reason for this, Liu Chengzong had already figured out in his heart along the way.

Selling sons and daughters was not something people could do just because they wanted to sell or wanted to sell; the situation these common soldiers had encountered in the borderlands was not merely drought. In truth, the suffering they endured was only the ripple effect of the drought in Shaanxi and Shanxi reaching the border, so it merely produced a vast disparity between rich and poor.

Yan'an Prefecture was the second most populous prefecture in Shaanxi, but not the second most densely populated place, because Yan'an Prefecture was too vast in area — roughly the size of four Fengxiang Prefectures. In the past, it had over forty-five thousand households of commoners, with a population of nearly six hundred thousand.

And because the greater part of Fengxiang Prefecture lay on the Guanzhong Plain, its population was extremely dense, bearing as many as three hundred thousand people.

In this era, when the equipment gap between peasant uprisings and regular troops was the greatest it had ever been, it was already very difficult for peasant armies to form on the plain at any scale — Liu the Lion understood this better than anyone.

He too had begun by going through the process of a dozen or so core fighters and a few dozen clan youths raiding for grain and plunder, until they got their hands on a large store of provisions and fodder.

Only with the money, grain, and supplies from a successful example could he then select another dozen or so core men from the hands available, gather a crowd to raid a town, fight as guerrillas everywhere by relying on complex terrain, and then snowball into something larger.

Fengxiang Prefecture clearly lacked this foundation. One department, seven counties, in every direction five garrisoned checkpoints, five patrol offices with small armed forces, and one Guard Thousand-Household Battalion — in the process of refugees transforming from bandits and robbers into roving rebels, over a hundred common folk rising up could not even flee into the mountains. A Rank-9 Patrol Officer bringing men over would wipe them out.

The problem now laid before Liu the Lion was not only that Fengxiang Prefecture was strewn with corpses of starvation and needed official relief — the forty-thousand-strong army under his command also needed grain.

Wei Qian'er said, "Commander, though Fengxiang Prefecture city has no grain, the prefecture has many powerful and wealthy households. We can strike for grain."

Liu Chengzong frowned for a moment, weighed it briefly in his mind, then resumed his normal expression and said, "Drought for so many years, and locusts last year on top of it… I fear that even if we strike for grain in Fengxiang Prefecture, the provisions and fodder we obtain will not be enough to simultaneously relieve the famine victims and feed the army. But no matter — you go handle this first. Follow the old rules from our time in Gansu: secure the grain first, then we'll talk."

He estimated in his mind that striking for grain in Fengxiang Prefecture could conservatively net the army one or two months' marching rations. But these provisions would also be spent quickly. Part of it would certainly have to go to local relief, and once the relief was done, the army would likely have eaten through seventy to eighty percent of that grain.

The situation in Shaanxi now — successive years of drought, and a locust plague on top of it last year — meant that even on the Guanzhong Plain, the common people's burdens had probably reached an extreme. On this point, Xi'an Prefecture likely could not meet his military supply needs either.

After all, Xi'an Prefecture might be wealthy, but its population density was even greater than Fengxiang Prefecture's. Over half of all Shaanxi's population was concentrated in Xi'an Prefecture. The most numerous people under heaven were the poor, and the poor had not the slightest defense against natural and man-made disasters — though of course, other people's suffering was not the most critical issue.

The most critical issue was that Liu Chengzong had been starved for people these past few years.

With a population in the millions, he could not just focus on fighting his war and let everyone starve to death.

But if he had to look after the famine victims, the difficulty of the Guanzhong campaign would rise another level: he had to end this campaign as quickly as possible.

Because given the current lack of officials in Fengxiang Prefecture, the powerful households, each sweeping only the snow from their own doorstep, were insufficient to deal with a territory-wide threat like a locust plague. Last autumn and winter, they clearly lacked the organizational capacity to exterminate the locusts. And Fengxiang Prefecture was hardly the only place in the north in such a state — Xi'an Prefecture likewise had no Prefect, and its situation was no better.

At the turn of summer and autumn this year, the locusts would return.

To restore production, he had to end the campaign quickly.

The army provisions for Liu Chengzong would still have to come from the princely estates of Xi'an Prefecture and Hanzhong Prefecture.

Wei Qian'er had just gone down to assemble the troops and head for the countryside to seek grain from wealthy households when a Feathered Forest rider came galloping in from outside the city and reported: "Commander, Vanguard Battalion Assistant Commander Zhang Tianlin has sent a dispatch rider to report — while the Vanguard Battalion was besieging Baoji, outpost troops encountered the Dashing General Li Zicheng's forces and learned that Zuo Liangyu in Qinzhou has been lured out of the city by Zhang Yichuan and is now forming lines for field battle."

The Feathered Forest rider said, "Assistant Commander Zhang asks: may we lift the siege of Baoji and join forces with the Dashing General to strike the Reinforcement-Suppression Regional Commander?"

Liu Chengzong's spirit jolted at this. He waved his hand and said, "Approved! Have the Vanguard Battalion lift the siege, dispatch troops west to aid Zhang Yichuan, and do their utmost to annihilate Zuo Liangyu. I will take Baoji myself!"