Chapter 854: Breakout

The Emperor stared blankly at them, his gaze sweeping over the Imperial Guard, seeing no trace of outrage on their faces—only revulsion as they avoided the pile of bloody pulp on the ground.

Looking at others, no one besides him showed the slightest sorrow over Wang Zhen's death; even the eunuchs trembled in fear, their expressions filled only with terror, not anger or grief.

The Emperor stared blankly—did they hate Wang Zhen so much?

Why?

Was it hatred for Wang Zhen—or hatred for me?

The Emperor looked dazed.

The Duke of Ying had already ordered the army to regroup and prepare for breakout.

The Emperor snapped back to awareness, about to object, when his guard general, Fan Zhong, grabbed him by the arm and shouted: "Your Majesty, I swear I will protect you!"

The Emperor quickly seized his hand: "Wait, wait—the army has just camped; they're exhausted. Now attempting a breakout is forcing tired troops to fight!"

Before the Duke of Ying could explain, Fan Zhong said: "Your Majesty, the encirclement isn't complete yet—this is the perfect moment to break out. Wait any longer, and we'll be sealed in like a iron barrel."

The urgency of the moment meant the time spent killing Wang Zhen had already cost them dearly.

Since the scouts' report, the four columns of Oirat forces had drawn even closer.

At the Duke of Ying's command, all civil and military officials sprang into action, abandoning baggage and surging around the Emperor to mount their horses and flee.

The Duke of Ying directly led the army in retreat toward the southeast.

This clashed with the Emperor's own idea of retreat—he had wanted to head north or southwest.

But the Duke of Ying paid him no heed; the Emperor had no chance to speak.

The young Emperor's gaze grew heavy—this conduct by the Duke of Ying looked exactly like a forced abdication.

Who is the Emperor here—him, or the Duke?

What terrified the young Emperor more was that even his own guard general obeyed the Duke of Ying's orders, not his.

Amid the crowd's escort, the young Emperor's carriage rolled down the slope; barely had they traveled a short distance when cries of battle erupted ahead.

In the darkness, Li Zhen's vanguard met the encircling Oirat troops, and combat broke out.

The Oirat cavalry moved swiftly, quickly flanking and surrounding them.

The Duke of Ying rode ahead, spearing the oncoming Oirat junior officer clean off his horse, bellowing: "Break through!"

The others shielded the Emperor's carriage and charged outward.

But the Great Ming army was mostly infantry; before the Oirat cavalry's sabers, they had little means to resist.

Meanwhile, the other three Oirat columns were closing in, each sending forward fast-moving detachments that attacked from behind.

They loved flanking tactics; spotting the Emperor's carriage, they charged straight toward it.

Fortunately, the Duke of Ying had not split his forces—he had ordered baggage piled behind to hinder the cavalry.

Amid the chaos, the ministers shielded the Emperor's carriage and burst through the encirclement, plunging into the darkness.

Oirat cavalry pursued relentlessly.

Marquis Tai Ning, Chen Ying, seeing them closing in, gritted his teeth, turned his bodyguard around, and charged to intercept.

When Fan Zhong had ridden a hundred paces with the carriage and looked back, he saw Chen Ying shot from his horse by an arrow, then trampled under the hooves of a dozen galloping mounts.

Fan Zhong's eyes turned bloodshot; he leapt onto the carriage, burst inside, and tore at the Emperor's robes.

The Emperor, jolted senseless, sat dazed as Fan Zhong stripped him bare, quickly dressed him in a soldier's uniform, and shoved him out of the carriage.

Marquis Xiuwu, Shen Rong, seemingly understanding Fan Zhong's plan, leapt from his own horse onto the carriage, shoved the driver inside, and took the reins himself: "Put on the Emperor's robes—hurry!"

Fan Zhong grabbed the Emperor and threw him onto Shen Rong's horse, then vaulted onto his own mount and joined the ministers in escorting the Emperor onward.

The driver had already crawled into the carriage, trembling and weeping as he pulled on the Emperor's robes.

The man who served as the Emperor's driver was no mere coachman—he was an official of the Ministry of Imperial Stables, named Xia Zheng.

A column of Oirat troops charged in from the southwest; the Duke of Ying turned and gave Fan Zhong a glance.

Fan Zhong understood, slowed his horse, and charged head-on into the enemy.

The ministers, in unspoken accord, clustered around the carriage, pushing the Emperor to the rear.

All attacks now focused on the carriage.

Shen Rong roared, yanked the reins, and drove the carriage swiftly southward; soldiers followed the carriage, and the enemy chased after it.

Amid the chaos, only Fan Zhong, Li Zhen, and a detachment of Imperial Guards escorted the Emperor eastward, appearing like fleeing remnants.

The Duke of Ying rode ahead, guarding the front of the carriage; Cao Nai and other civil officials made no move to leave.

Over twenty civil and military ministers clustered near the carriage; Great Ming soldiers, convinced the Emperor was inside, fought desperately to defend it.

The Oirat army, likewise certain the Emperor was inside, converged from all directions.

For a moment, the grasslands rang with battle cries; tens of thousands clashed in a sprawling melee stretching over ten miles, the luxurious carriage at the front nearly shattered, like a leaf tossed in a raging torrent.

Dark clouds loomed overhead; Great Ming soldiers fled in all directions, but the Oirat soldiers did not pursue—they saw only the golden-yellow carriage ahead…

A hundred arrows rained from above, striking the carriage; most were swept away by soldiers, but three thudded into Shen Rong's chest.

Shen Rong's eyes bulged wide; as he tumbled from the carriage, his gaze remained fixed on the southeast—the direction the Emperor had fled—but even there, chaos reigned.

The Oirat soldiers indeed surged toward the golden carriage, yet they showed no mercy to any Great Ming soldier in their path.

I wonder… will His Majesty escape?

Shen Rong's eyes remained wide open, never closing until death.

Lightning flashed silently across the sky; moments later, thunder rolled, a gale rose, and rain poured down in torrents.

Amid the storm, Cao Nai had somehow dragged the carriage's decoy out, hauled him onto a horse, and mounted behind him, following close behind the Duke of Ying as they broke free.

Through the downpour, they burst through the encirclement.

The lightning and thunder unsettled the horses; the Oirat cavalry failed to catch up.

The Duke of Ying immediately dismounted, gathered the remnants, and found only a thousand men had escaped with them.

He knew the other soldiers had not all died—they had either fled or remained trapped behind.

He wasn't in a hurry; he had plenty of experience gathering stragglers.

The Duke of Ying looked up at the sky, heavy with dark clouds, and said grimly, "Tonight, the Oirats can't press on—but they won't abandon searching for Your Majesty. Let's go, find a place to hide for the night, and resume gathering stragglers tomorrow."

As long as the enemy's gaze remains fixed on them, the Emperor might still escape.

Cao Nai silently bound the wound on his arm, looked around, his gaze heavy with sorrow: "Master Chen…"

"I saw it," Wang Zuo said with a sorrowful look: "Master Chen was cut from his horse—he's likely…"

All hearts were heavy with grief; no one spoke.

A mood of sorrow spread from here. (End of chapter)