Chapter 1262: The Cavalry Advances at Speed

Wang Zaijin was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, "This Xuzhou leader refuses to see us — I fear he thinks we are of no use!"

His aides did not catch this muttered reflection; when someone moved to ask, Wang Zaijin merely shook his head and added in a desolate tone, "Better to be a captive of Xuzhou than a captive of the Tartar slaves."

"If these Xuzhou troops were to clash with the Jianzhou Tartar slaves, who would win and who would lose, I wonder?"

"If those two tigers could truly be made to fight each other, it would of course be a blessing for the realm. But look at how Xuzhou has moved — from their first rising to this very day, they have never once taken a risky step. What seems perilous to us, Xuzhou handles with absolute certainty. With such seasoned generalship, why would they ever go and slaughter it out with the Jianzhou Tartar slaves?"

"Speaking of which, for this joint encirclement of Xuzhou, the court wanted a swift victory, yet now we have suffered a crushing defeat. Urgent reports will be coming from all those border passes. Will the Ligdan Khan entrenched in Guihua City and the Jianzhou Jurchens make a move?"

"We are all prisoners now — why dwell on useless matters? Let us just see how this Xuzhou commander decides to deal with us!"

Calm had already been restored inside Jinghai County town. The corpses in the streets and such had all been carted away; smoke rose from cooking fires at quite a few households. Were it not for the shattered city walls and the lingering stench of blood in the streets, you would never imagine that such a bloody, bitter battle had been fought here today. The atmosphere set people at ease. Wang Zaijin's aides talked it over as they walked along.

The guards following behind, however, were indignant. "These sourpusses are obviously trying to show off in front of the rebels."

When they reached the county yamen, Wang Zaijin's guards were led away elsewhere. He himself and his aides waited before the main gate. The soldiers escorting them went inside, then came hurrying back out, their faces even showing a trace of apology. This subtle shift in expression struck sudden terror into several sensitive aides, who thought they were about to be put to death.

They never expected the Zhao family soldier who had gone in to say, "Gentlemen, my general says that military affairs are pressing and he has no time to see you. You are free to go. A portion of your carts, horses, and personal belongings will be returned. It is already dark, and the scattered soldiers outside have not yet been mopped up, so we suggest you leave tomorrow morning. Someone will escort you as far as the Cangzhou area; after that, you are on your own."

Hearing what the squad leader said, Wang Zaijin and his aides were all dumbfounded. What exactly was the point of this? Not being granted an audience was one thing — captives had no standing to demand much — but sending them packing outright was truly baffling.

"You took shelter in that juren's house during the day; go stay there again tonight. I will say this once more: letting you go is a kindness from my general. Do not fail to appreciate it, gentlemen." The escorting squad leader issued this warning one more time, then ignored them, waving a hand to signal the soldiers guarding them to disperse.

Wang Zaijin and the aides around him stood dumbly before the gate of the Jinghai County yamen, all at a complete loss. The Zhao family soldiers coming and going shot them curious glances but paid them no further mind. What harm could a dozen or so middle-aged scholars possibly pose? Inside the town and out, everything was under the Zhao family army's armed control.

"Arrogant fools! If they don't know how to recruit worthy and learned men, how can they last long!" one of the younger aides said indignantly. Only after he had spoken did he realize he had blurted out his true thoughts, and he lowered his head in considerable shame. The other aides paid little attention; they were all still thinking about selling their full bellies of learning and stratagems to Xuzhou, never imagining the other side would not even see them.

Apart from their disappointment, a strange sense of dread rose unbidden in everyone's hearts. Men capable of serving as Wang Zaijin's aides were at the very least xiucai degree-holders, and moreover scholars well-versed in practical affairs. Such literati were respected wherever they went. Compared to those scholars who knew only poetry and rhapsodies, these aides could handle military matters, accomplish real work, and possessed rich experience.

A newly risen power like Xuzhou surely lacked deep foundations and would thirst for such men of talent. On the road under escort, many had fantasized about the scene when they met. Zhao Jin would either threaten or earnestly plead for everyone to serve; they would put on airs, and only when the moment was perfectly ripe would they agree. Then, when this new dynasty was established, everyone would surely have a future of wealth and rank. Liu Ji, Song Lian — back in their day, they were nothing but down-and-out scholars themselves. Some had even imagined Zhao Jin failing to persuade them to surrender and then launching a massacre, at which point they themselves would display utter righteousness, perhaps even compose a poem to leave a name in the annals of history.

Who could have imagined that this Xuzhou leader would not only refuse to see them, but would not even kill them, and would simply let them go — utterly unconcerned that men so full of stratagems and statecraft might regroup the troops and come charging back. This was not contempt or disdain; it was outright disregard. Are we truly worth nothing? Who exactly is commanding these Xuzhou troops?

Compared to his dejected and disappointed aides, Wang Zaijin's expression remained as impassive as ever, only his back grew more stooped. Even his still-keen gaze dimmed, and his steps even grew somewhat unsteady, as if the man were rapidly aging before their eyes. After he stumbled twice, the people beside him hurriedly steadied him, only then noticing something was wrong.

"Old Excellency, Old Excellency! Since the rebel army is so arrogant, this is the perfect chance for us to slip out of the city, regroup the troops, and then we'll have another opportunity!" Whether he believed these words or not, the aide kept his voice low.

Supported now, and hearing these words in his ear, Wang Zaijin's face showed a bitter smile. In a rasping voice he said, "What opportunity is there left? Do you know why they are letting us go? They do not regard the government troops as worthy opponents at all. Even if we rally troops and fight again, they can still win swiftly and decisively — why would they bother taking it to heart? Besides, how can the government troops out there possibly regroup? They have been utterly shattered."

The aide urging him gave a bitter smile at this too, but after glancing around, he lowered his voice further and said, "Old Excellency, look at these Xuzhou troops — they don't seem like a rebel army. Their military discipline is ironclad, they don't harm a single soul, and they are far more orderly than our own government troops. That alone is infinitely better than the Tartar slaves or the rebel bandits. Since they aren't settling accounts with us now, there's even less reason for them to do so later. We might as well go far away for now and watch how they conduct themselves. We may not seek wealth and glory, but a peaceful retirement is still within reach."

Wang Zaijin started. This time he remained silent, saying nothing. The aide supporting and urging him breathed a sigh of relief. Wang Zaijin had passed the jinshi examination in the twenty-second year of the Wanli reign; after more than thirty years bobbing on the sea of officialdom, his loyalty to the Great Ming was ingrained to the marrow. A situation like this could very easily plunge him into utter despair and lead him to take his own life for the dynasty.

Had he been defeated and captured by the Tartar slaves, suicide for the nation would be counted heroic martyrdom. But the situation as it stood was not worth it. The Great Ming had made a complete mess of things; a change to a new atmosphere was no bad thing. That sentiment, however, would not be spoken aloud.

When they returned to the juren's house, the attitude of the juren and his family — originally so warm, with a strong sense of shared hardship — had turned very cold. But since the Zhao family army had come and spoken to them, they could only take the group in. The aides privately passed word among themselves: Wang Zaijin must not be left to sleep alone that night, lest he think of some desperate act and take his own life. And so that night passed.

The official road running north from Jinghai County to Tianjin was over eighty li in length. Because it lay on flat plains and beside the Grand Canal, the road was level and broad, favorable for the movement of large armies.

After the main body of the government army was routed beneath the walls of Jinghai County town, all the government units that had not entered the town were retreating toward Tianjin. At this moment, Tianjin was the nearest walled city; there they could also receive support from various routes. It was the only place to go. The mass of government troops jammed this official road, while some men tried to commandeer the few boats on the river.

The battalions that had retreated and fled first held the advantage at a time like this. Their formations were still intact, their fighting strength unimpaired. Anyone who dared delay their march was cut down on the spot. The bedraggled scattered soldiers and deserters coming up behind were naturally no match for them and could only swallow their anger and trail behind the main columns. Only the government cavalry were unafraid; with their innate advantage, they simply raced on ahead.

The government cavalry, however, did not all take this single road. Part of the western army's cavalry cut through the gap between Desheng Marsh and Sanjiao Marsh, heading for Baoding County and Bazhou in Shuntian Prefecture. But there were wetlands to the south along that route; whether they could make it through would depend on luck.

The Zhao family army's cavalry had only been thrown into the battle at the very end. This gave the fleeing government units a misconception — they thought the Zhao family army did not have much cavalry, and that they would be too busy tidying up and sweeping the battlefield to have any attention to spare for the fleeing troops.

When the two-thousand-strong Zhao family cavalry led by Ji Xiang appeared, the government units realized their wishful thinking had been a joke. The routed government troops outnumbered these two-thousand-odd horsemen several times over, even more than ten times over, yet they had no way to concentrate their forces. From front to rear they were strung out in a loose, serpentine formation, doomed only to be shattered once more.

Like a red-hot steel blade slicing through congealed beef fat — Ji Xiang's Zhao family cavalry charged through, and the government troops split apart toward both sides of the official road and scattered.

Ji Xiang swung his long blade a few times, but it bit into flesh only twice. The rest of the time, the space within his reach was completely empty; the enemy had long since fled far away. Some bold government soldiers off to the sides drew their bows and nocked arrows. The Zhao family cavalry never let such provocations go unanswered — often a squad would peel off from the main body and charge straight at those foolhardy government troops by the roadside.

After this happened a few times, the government troops all understood the Zhao family army's limits. They only wanted to push forward along the road; they were not out to pursue and kill. By now, the government soldiers, from top to bottom, no longer possessed any courage or will to fight. Since the Xuzhou men were willing to let them go, they would not seek battle. Some even realized that the Xuzhou men meant to seize Tianjin — in which case, there was no point in the rest of them heading for Tianjin anymore.

The various routed government battalions on the official road scattered in a uproar. The officers could not control their men — nor did they want to. They were all fleeing wildly with their personal guards and close retinues. Anyone could see that the townships and villages along the way were going to suffer. These prosperous places, enriched by the grain tribute trade, were about to be looted by defeated officers and scattered deserters. Whether or not those defeated officers and deserters were eventually rounded up, they would run amok in these places first. After this, Hejian Prefecture and Shuntian Prefecture in Northern Zhili would have their vitality badly sapped.

Ji Xiang paid none of this any mind. He simply led his cavalry pressing north at speed.

"Don't worry about the horses! If a horse runs itself to death, you keep running on foot! What we want is speed!" Ji Xiang was utterly heedless of anything else.

That said, from early this morning until now, these horses had not really been run hard to begin with. Moreover, they had been given ample fodder and grain to replenish themselves. And on the official road, from start to finish, it was simply impossible to charge too fast, because the defeated and retreating government troops had the road jammed solid — it took time for them to scatter.

These past few days have been very difficult to write. Not because of the plot, but because of physical strength and mental energy. This book is four million words; my biological clock is struggling to adapt to a new rhythm. Fatigue, lethargy — but I can only persevere and adjust, using monthly tickets, tips, and subscriptions to constantly spur myself to keep writing. Brothers and sisters on Qidian and Chuangshi, the month is already ending. Old Bai's Great Ming Wufu needs more and more monthly tickets. Please, everyone, give your generous support.

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