Chapter 759: A Life Wasted

Liu Chengzong's rockets.

Not only were the Eight Banners terrified — even the Marshal's own troops were terrified.

No one facing this weapon had any truly effective defense.

Though the things were demanding to use and enormously costly — fired in small numbers they were little more than a big firework display — when unleashed en masse at the right moment, they could shatter a front-line battle formation in an instant.

That was exactly what was happening now on the Külün Gobi.

As hundreds upon hundreds of rockets streaked across the battlefield and hammered evenly down upon the Han and Mongol banner lines, the banner troops, who had never seen such an assault, disintegrated in moments and were trampled and pierced through by the First Brigade's cavalry charge.

Across the entire field, all three wings of Daicing's army were thrown into panic amid the saltpeter cascades trailing from the rockets' flight.

The two Red Banners of the center army's three lines collapsed first; behind them, the Plain Yellow Banner, the Guard, and the Vanguard — three battalions — were forced to retreat under Hong Taiji's orders. On the right wing, the scattered cavalry locked in melee saw the center army crumbling and scrambled to flee as well.

The last battalion on the left wing, by contrast — the Khorchin formation — was still locked in bitter combat with the Mobei army.

This was mainly because the fierce, battle-hardened prestige of Prince Manjusri weighed on everyone's hearts; also, positioned on the flank and already engaged, they had not had a moment to look back at the devastation after the rockets plowed through the center army.

To them, the rockets were not as terrifying as He Huchen charging furiously through the rolling sand.

The moment He Huchen led the Shuofang Battalion sweeping eastward through the Tianyou Army and wheeled south, the formations of both Manjusri and Subadi collapsed simultaneously.

The balance between the two armies was utterly overturned.

The First Brigade lunged like wolves and tigers, making the Eight Banners troops on the battle line feel as though they had met a flash flood. When the flood crest struck, those who turned to flee could not escape it, and those who fought against the current were likewise smashed to pieces — all were devoured and swallowed up.

The colossal rout was now beyond anyone's power to stem.

Gao Yingdeng and Li Hongsi led the Central and Surprise Battalions in pursuit of the two Red Banners. When the two Red Banners scattered in their flight, many men fled straight south. The Central and Surprise Battalions did not even glance at them; only a few squads, their eyes blood-red with slaughter, broke off to chase them. The greater mass of cavalry followed the Chongde Emperor's retinue, pursuing to the southeast.

The enemy they chased threw away their armor and helmets, and they themselves kept throwing things away along the pursuit route — felt blankets and such from their horses' rumps, daily supplies, sword oil, whetstones, arrowheads, armor plates, and other personal odds and ends. Everything that could be discarded was thrown down.

On nearly every man and horse remained only quivers, bows, and sabers — and of course, the saddlebags stuffed with silver bars on their horses' rumps.

Yoto, swept along in flight by the two Red Banners, had not yet caught his breath when he saw Manjusri not far away, leading his routed troops fleeing in his direction, with the Shuofang Battalion in mad pursuit behind them, though their horses were flagging.

By now, chased out of their wits and too terrified to turn and fight, they could only wheel around and keep fleeing.

Yet the Marshal's army did not pursue in full force. In fact, aside from the First Brigade's Central and Surprise Battalions, which had orders to strike, and the Shuofang Garrison coming to aid from the west, only Zuo Guangxian's Ranger Battalion, also under the First Brigade, joined the pursuit.

The Ranger Battalion struck because, by organization, it was under Gao Yingdeng's command. Both of the First Brigade's battalions had struck, so naturally he had to follow and lend support.

The Reinforcement Battalion truly could not pursue any further. Tang Tong's formation had earlier endured repeated enemy assaults and fought bitterly for a long time. Now, seeing the enemy retreat, only a few hundred cavalry mounted and gave chase for two li. Seeing no hope of catching the foe, they withdrew in succession.

The Northern Yuan and Yanmen Battalions only struck after the First Brigade had already been in pursuit for some time, when they received Liu Chengzong's order to advance and chase the enemy. Only then did they snap out of their shock from the rocket explosions and dispatch their troops.

The other battalions all stayed put.

This was not because every battalion in the Marshal's army could obey orders absolutely. In truth, Liu Chengzong knew his battalions very well. He had reckoned that once the enemy was shattered, each battalion would advance together, vying for battle honors and kicking a drowning dog.

It had always been like that before. When Xie Erhu led the Mongol Brigade, in the grinding stalemate of a hard fight, if the Mongol soldiers had not slipped away early, they would be routed by the enemy at the first opportunity.

But the moment the Marshal's regular troops gained the upper hand, those nomadic cavalry with their inferior arms and armor would come racing madly back to the battlefield, displaying divine prowess in the pursuit of broken remnants.

This time, however, was different.

Because He Huchen had already displayed divine prowess.

The Imperial Clan Battalion did not move. Sun Long of the Liaoyang Battalion had come begging; he practically knelt before Jin Chanzi, clutching the sleeve of Jin Chanzi's python robe, demanding that without the Grand Marshal's order to advance, the Imperial Clan Battalion must not charge.

Because his soldiers were all shaven-headed with little queues, and they wore the uniforms and armor of the Eight Banners.

Only when clustered among the flying-fish robes, bull-fighting robes, and python robes of the Imperial Clan Battalion did they look like proper soldiers.

If he joined the pursuit, Sun Long truly feared someone would take his men for Eight Banners and strike them down.

The Mobei army, under Subadi's command, pulled back even more crisply.

The moment He Huchen's troops wheeled south, Manjusri's Khorchin army collapsed and fled. Subadi likewise sounded the Mongol horn and ordered a withdrawal from the battlefield.

Thus it took on the appearance of both armies collapsing simultaneously.

Compared to the Khorchin banner troops, Subadi's attention had been fixed on He Huchen the entire time.

For one thing, He Zan's bare-assed troops were still cutting off heads. For another, Subadi had seen it himself: He Huchen's cavalry, when their mounts were arrow-shot, wounded, unable to run, or when men were unhorsed — so long as no enemy was nearby — were also all cutting off heads.

He could no longer figure out what He Huchen's lot really were.

Now, seeing Daicing's army retreating, he felt his own job was done and had no desire to keep risking battle... What if these men were actually Ming troops cutting off barbarian heads?

Liu Chengzong's battle might be won, but they could end up getting themselves caught in the trap.

As the routed soldiers and their pursuers left the field tail-to-snout, Subadi, having gathered his troops, dismounted. He clenched a handful of blood-soaked yellow sand and looked toward the dusk battlefield, which had gained a moment's peace. His heart still trembled within his chest.

Gombu Khan, Babu Taiji of the Sechen Khanate, and Erdeni of the Khotogoid — these Mobei nobles gathered around Subadi. All of them could not help but gaze at the dusk battlefield, where corpses lay strewn for li and yellow sand was stained with blood.

They stared blankly.

Their minds had still not recovered from the explosions of the sky-covering rockets.

At last, the Mobei nobles cast complicated looks toward the Marshal's great banner standing proudly amid the army.

It was a gaze that held shock, envy, terror, worship, and wariness. Every one of them wore that look — except Erdeni.

Erdeni Hong Taiji's look was far simpler. Clear.

Very clear.

After a long while, Subadi was the first to come back to himself. He let out a long breath and only then noticed that the great nobles of the three Mobei tribes around him were all still staring blankly. He coughed and said, "What are you all thinking?"

The young Gombu Khan's expression was not pleasant. "With Liu Chengzong possessing such troops, we... alas!"

Subadi and Babu exchanged a glance; in both their eyes was sympathy.

Both of them knew that Gombu truly wanted the three tribes to unite, even to pull in the Oirat and form an alliance, to stand as an independent power dominating the desert and resist the incursions of all outside forces.

Babu and Subadi, though each had his own stance, from the perspective of Mongols — even if they did not voice admiration for Gombu's ideal, they would not mock it.

It was simply... unrealistic.

Babu shook his head regretfully. "Suppose this battle had not been fought by the Khitan Khan, but by our Sechen Khanate's forty thousand troops against the Sure Khan's sixty thousand — what does the Tüsheet Khan think?"

Gombu was struck dumb.

Babu was reminding him that Liu Chengzong was not the only one with strong soldiers and sturdy horses.

Compared to their own armies, what difference was there between that Daicing army and monsters?

An army of fifty or sixty thousand, suddenly ambushed on the march — the attacked unit ran a few steps, cut off their queues, turned and fought to the death, while the main army calmly shifted formation, spread its two wings, and surged forward to strike again.

Hit by short guns and long cannons whose roar shook the wilderness, they merely withdrew, reformed, and advanced to battle once more. Unable to break the wagon fort, they pulled back, swapped men, and attacked again — until they charged into the wagon fort and were hammered out in close combat. Only then did they show a trace of faltering.

Babu reckoned to himself that if it had been their own Chechen Khanate tribe, even with a chance to strike the flank, they probably wouldn't have dared charge.

And even if they did charge, they might well fail to break even a single banner — the moment those White Armor soldiers cut their queues and counterattacked, they'd have been routed.

After all, Chantu Taiji's men had one set of iron armor for every two riders; Wu Sihu's troops had one set of iron armor per rider, and some of them wore chain mail underneath. Daiqing's army in this campaign had one set of iron armor for every four or five men, while their own Mobei army had one set for every twelve or thirteen riders.

Liu Chengzong's two battalions could withstand the counter-charge because arrows hitting his men either failed to pierce the armor, or if they did, caused nothing more than flesh wounds.

If it were their Mobei troops, a hit would mean death or severe injury.

In this battle, even with a surprise attack, who else could have beaten Huang Taiji?

Babu's stance, to some extent, was still an unwillingness to confront the Later Jin army himself.

Subadi's stance was even simpler. He advised Gumbu, "Without the Khitan Khan, if the Tiancong Khanate invaded westward, would the Chechen Khan fight or surrender? Whichever he chose, the Tüsheetu Khanate tribe would be next."

The implication was clear: every wrong has its perpetrator. It was the Tiancong Khan who kept invading the Mongol kinsmen of Monan. You can't pin this on the Khitan Khan.

Gumbu raised a hand, stopping them from further persuasion.

Did he not understand these truths? He understood them all too well. But grasping a reality one is unwilling to accept does not mean the heart feels any better.

It only made the sense of powerlessness stronger.

Seeing him like this, Subadi stopped pressing and merely smiled. "At the very least, the things you looted in Shengjing — the Khitan Khan truly let you take them home."

As he spoke, he looked toward his great vassal Erdeni and could not help asking, "What's the matter?"

Erdeni Hong Taiji's eyes had never been so clear, brimming with relief at his own choice and gratitude toward his lord Subadi.

Hearing Subadi's question, he immediately stooped in salute. "Had the Jasaghtu Khan not dissuaded me, I would be leading my people on the march to attack the Temur Khanate right now!"

Erdeni had achieved virtually no merit in this war — he had been a complete and total spectator, stunned over and over without end.

At first, he had not cared about Liu Chengzong's Marshal Manor; he had only come in person because he did not wish to rebuff his lord Subadi's wish.

But in truth, as an independent lord, he did not care that much about his suzerain Subadi, nor did he obey his orders... because Subadi would not help him fight the Oirats.

Alas, everyone around him was exactly that sort — men who dared not help him fight the Oirats.

The Khotogoid tribe had close ties with the Tsardom of Russia; the two sides had been dealing with each other for nearly twenty years, with deep foundations in trade and diplomacy. The Russians needed him to learn about the Great Ming's situation, and he needed Russia to help him deal with the Oirats.

And then the relationship between the two sides got stuck.

Russia would not help him fight the Oirats, so he fed Russia a pile of intelligence about the Great Ming, a mix of truth and falsehood.

One moment, the Great Ming was a terrifying realm with only a single giant city, a great river running through it, and enormous ships sailing out to sea from inside the city laden with silk, velvet, and patterned satin. The next, the Chahar Khan had conquered the Great Ming by digging tunnels.

In short, he spun the Russians a dreamy illusion that would shatter at the slightest touch — if you want to go, you'd better hurry. If you're going, I'll escort you there.

But there was one condition: the Tsar in Moscow must issue orders to all subjects in Tomsk, Tobolsk, and Tara, commanding the entire force to jointly campaign against Khara Khula Taiji.

This Khara Khula Taiji was none other than Batur Hong Taiji's father.

How would Russia dare? As a result, Erdeni grew desperate in turn. "You must station eight to twelve thousand troops in Tomsk. When I need to use this force, I will inform Tomsk."

Otherwise, if you won't look after me, I won't let your envoys pass through my territory to reach the Great Ming either.

It was not until Zhou Qiang struck Tomsk and established the Taimeng Garrison that the relationship between the Khotogoid tribe and Russia saw a breakthrough... The western reinforcements never came, but the Russians east of Tomsk could no longer go home.

In their desperation for Erdeni to strike back and retake Tomsk, they promised him every wish imaginable.

And now, having witnessed this war with his own eyes, Erdeni's mind was filled with nothing but retrospective terror.

Seeing him salute, Subadi was overjoyed.

From the time Erdeni inherited his father's Khotogoid tribe until now, he had never once saluted him with such genuine sincerity.

All of this was the prestige that submitting to the Grand Marshal had brought him... The Jasaghtu Khanate tribe was advancing on the right path!

This sight greatly improved Subadi's mood. He asked with a smile, "Not going to heed the Russians' persuasion and send troops to attack the Temur Khanate anymore?"

Erdeni could not help but laugh wryly. "The Great Khan himself said it — the Temur Khanate is his vassal."

Having said that, he raised a hand and pointed at his own nose. "Me?"

Then he pointed into the distance at the great banner that marked Liu Chengzong's position. "Attack him?"

Erdeni let out a mocking laugh and shook his head decisively. "Am I tired of living?"

His heart now yearned for home like an arrow. He decided to properly express his gratitude to his suzerain Subadi here, find a way to borrow some spoils of war from Subadi, go to Guihua City to buy weapons and armor, and then go back and take those Russian envoys and soldiers as his own followers.

Those men were all old friends of his. This was for their own good.

As for returning to Russia or striking back to retake Tomsk — they could forget about such things forever.

And the men in the west would never be coming back either.

With the Daiqing Khitan Khan's combat power, even if the Russian Tsar really sent twelve thousand men to Tomsk, their fate in a clash would be nothing but fertilizer for the fields.

What an immense broadening of horizons this had been for Erdeni!

Over a hundred field cannons roaring in volley, over a thousand rocket arrows hurtling wildly through the air, ninety thousand troops with an armor rate averaging one set of iron armor for every two men, joining battle across the desolate Gobi wilderness.

This kind of spectating experience — every last khan and taiji in Siberia, across three lifetimes, would never have it!

The Khitan Khan's six thousand cavalry charging a sixty-thousand-man formation, the Tiancong Khan cutting off a limb to save the body and shifting formation, the Khitan Khan sending both wings forward, the Tiancong Khan spreading both wings to intercept... Now that was war!

Erdeni acknowledged reality.

The Tiancong Khan was formidable too, but Liu Chengzong, who had won the war, was clearly the one and only god in Erdeni's heart.

No wonder that Batur Hong Taiji of the Dzungars came to Qinghai, lost a battle, and was so thoroughly convinced.

Anyone not convinced would be a fool!

He had made up his mind.

Once he went back and gathered up those Russians, he would hand over the Khotogoid tribe to his son to manage.

He himself would lead a few thousand riders south to join the fight, pledging himself under the Khitan Khan's banner as a commander.

This was the battlefield a true man ought to throw himself into; those red-armored cavalry were what an army ought to look like!

Before this... damn it, he had lived in vain!

?? Good evening!

? (End of chapter)