Chapter 1378: The Jurchen Are Not Invincible

Many Jianzhou Jurchen soldiers fell in the crush and chaos, never to rise again, trampled by their own comrades before being ground into bloody pulp under the hooves of the Zhao Family Army cavalry.

The main formation of the Zhao Family Army cavalry had still not lost its shape by this point, pressing forward like a wall, and everyone in front of that wall was crushed into bloody pulp.

Arrows rained down. The cavalry behind the lance-wielding riders could not charge forward to kill the enemy due to the formation, and since they were not on the flanks they could not pursue the scattered foe either. All they could do was draw their bows and loose arrows in volleys over the heads of the front ranks, and those arrows were bound to hit someone.

Even if it only made the enemy bleed, on a battlefield like this it could weaken him, slow him down, and cause him to be caught, trampled, and cut down.

The several hundred cavalry who had remained motionless at the rear now began their charge, and this was the true beginning of the Jianzhou army's disaster. The most convenient escape route for the Jurchen soldiers had been to the rear, but now the rear was sealed off as well.

Unlike the front, which pressed forward in a single broad line, the cavalry at the rear split into squads of several dozen riders each, charging left and thrusting right, killing and wounding as many of the enemy as possible.

The troops led by Tanggūdai collapsed completely. It was not only their formation that collapsed, but also their morale and their will. Since Jianzhou had taken up arms, fighting desperate battles against the various Jurchen tribes beyond the frontier and against the Mongol tribes, Jianzhou had won far more than it had lost. Ever since Nurhaci proclaimed the Seven Grievances and entered Liaodong, they had won every battle, never suffering a single defeat.

Victory after victory, one overwhelming and exhilarating triumph after another, had built up the confidence of the Eight Banners soldiers of Jianzhou. They began to believe they were powerful, began to believe they were invincible under heaven. They fought every battle with this conviction, their momentum overwhelming, their odds of victory ever greater.

But this time, their confidence shattered. They had never imagined such an outcome. There was virtually no power to resist; everything was within the enemy's grasp. In fighting strength, in strategy, in equipment — in every single aspect, their own side could not compare to the opponent. Once the battle began, it was a one-sided slaughter.

To put down the hoe and the fishing net, to take up sword and blade and follow their masters on campaigns east and west, to win a life of wealth and rank for their own families — this was the thought of every Jurchen man. But now, caught in the pincer encirclement and slaughter of the two cavalry forces, the Jurchen soldiers wanted only to go back. What had they come to Liaodong for? This place was too perilous, fraught with death at every turn. I still want to go back and farm, still want to reunite with my family.

By the time the slaughter reached a certain point, by the time the Zhao Family Army's cavalry regiments and companies had completely encircled the enemy, the sun had already set. But the Jianzhou Jurchen soldiers within knew they had no chance in the darkness and would only be utterly exterminated. Some began to kneel and surrender in desperation, but this only hastened their deaths. In the darkness, they shoved and trampled one another — who could possibly dodge? The Zhao Family Army cavalry had no intention of accepting surrender either; they simply trampled and cut their way through.

At a time like this, surrendering might not beg life; it might well hasten death. But these men who threw down their weapons simply did not want to remain a single moment longer in that hellish killing field. They only sought a swift end. These years, Jianzhou Jurchen had fought too smoothly, too successfully. They had never imagined they would suffer such a defeat, nor could they endure such a defeat anymore.

The collapse went without saying. Many thought of the future. From the time they were driven out of Fuzhou until now, they dared not recall those battles, yet every time they did, they felt utter terror. If every future battle was to have such an outcome, such a future, then it was better to die now.

Because they knew the fate of the defeated, knew the misery of captives — for they had seen how wretched the captives of the Ming army and Liaodong were. Because they themselves had inflicted that wretchedness with their own hands. The moment they imagined what they had done to others befalling themselves, many felt it was better to die, better to have a swift end right now.

Amid the battle, some flailed about in panic, while others swung their blades in futile resistance, wailing and howling, "It shouldn't be like this, how did it come to this!" They had followed their masters on campaigns east and west, winning victory after victory. The entire Eight Banners were no longer satisfied with the land of Liaodong; everyone gazed further west, toward the flourishing wealth and splendor within the Ming heartland. They had already come to regard Liaodong as their own territory, everything stable and secure. On this land, they were safe. On this land, they were the wolves and tigers, while the Han people and the Ming troops were pigs and sheep. Only now did they realize that they were no wolves or tigers after all. This Xuzhou army that had come so suddenly was the true beast of prey, and they themselves were merely meat in its jaws.

They had heard their elders say that in the past, the Jurchen had lived pitifully among these white mountains and black waters, first driven out of Goryeo by the Goryeo people, then chased everywhere by the Mongols, with Ming troops also killing and burning. They had thought that these years had changed everything — the Goryeo people cowed into silence, the Ming state fleeing in disarray, the Mongols bowing their heads. The day for the Jurchen to hold their heads high had come. But reality was this. So it was still the same after all.

Some wailed in despair. Some, their untamed savagery gone forever, knelt and begged for mercy, pleading in the Han language they had long ceased to speak, even disdained to speak. Others beat their chests, claiming they were Han people who had been hiding among them all along. Still others held up the gold and silver they had plundered in both hands, hoping to trade it for their lives, or to trade it for a moment of chaos, a chance to flee.

But this Xuzhou cavalry was different from any battalion they had ever encountered before. They did not stop; they did not even fall into disorder. This Xuzhou army simply kept killing. When the men in front grew tired and their weapons dulled, they swapped with the men behind to continue the slaughter. If anyone fled, someone spurred his horse to pursue, determined not to let a single man escape, not to let a single enemy live.

The sky darkened, leaving only the brilliant glow of sunset at the horizon where sea and sky met. At this point, the slaughter ceased. The cavalry formed a loose encirclement. Most of the riders had already dismounted and begun wiping the sweat from their mounts, taking out dry rations and raising waterskins to feed and water their horses.

No one worried about the encircled Jianzhou Jurchen soldiers escaping, because most had been killed, and the rest, their courage shattered and hearts quaking, had surrendered. The cavalry sent in pursuit had also returned to their units.

The cavalry of the Second Regiment formed squads of ten, taking up long blades and short spears as they entered the battlefield to comb through it. Those still breathing received a finishing blade. Those feigning death were ordered at once to surrender. Those who disobeyed, or even seemed inclined to disobey, were met directly with a blade or a spear.

When the Zhao Family Army infantry went into battle, their faces were always solemn, and new recruits often vomited and felt ill after their first engagement. The cavalry was completely different. The men of the Second Cavalry Regiment were all in high spirits, laughing and joking merrily.

It was not only the cavalrymen below who were like this. The commander of the Second Regiment, Bayin, was also brimming with satisfaction. His quiver was empty, his body spattered with bloodstains, and someone beside him was wiping his long blade — the cleaning cloth had already been replaced once.

"The First Regiment won't have our good fortune. Where in the interior will there be great battles like this in the future? Here in Liaodong, we'll still have a few more satisfying fights."

As he spoke, the company commanders beside him all laughed along. The Zhao Family Army's cavalry regiments had diverse origins. The backbone consisted of the Mongol employees from Wang Ziyang's days, later joined by sons of guard-battalion families and mounted bandits from the jianghu. Those of steppe origin and those from the outlaw world were naturally unrestrained in temperament, and the guard-battalion sons who could ride were no docile characters either. Their attitude toward warfare was naturally different.

Nearly every cavalry unit under the Zhao Family Army had learned bitter lessons in military discipline, with more men executed by the Zhao Family Army's military law than killed in battle. But by now, unrestrained as they were, they knew not to cross the line in their conduct.

"These Jianzhou Tatars are nothing special after all. If our Zhao Family Army infantry were surrounded by cavalry, the cavalry wouldn't gain any advantage. Do you think they could even get close?"

"Regimental Commander, no matter who you compare them to, don't compare them to our own battalions. These Jianzhou Tatars are decent enough. Fleeing all this way, tailed by the First Brigade's cavalry companies without falling apart, and upon seeing us they still dared to charge and fight. Do the Ming army or the roving bandits have that kind of backbone? Even those newly trained local militias of ours, whatever they're called, I don't see it in them either."

The ones speaking were all Mongol cavalrymen of steppe origin, yet they too used the term "Tatars" freely, because in many parts of the Ming interior, the word was not necessarily derogatory. Among the Ming's formidable generals and elite troops, there were quite a few men of Mongol tribal origin. The term "Tatar Officer" had existed since the time of the Yongle Emperor, and the phrase "da guan" for high officials was derived from it.

"Borji, back when you served in the Datong border army, if you'd seen this many heads, you'd have gone mad with joy, wouldn't you? You'd have traded them for a post as a Regional Commander or something — might even have been enfeoffed as a marquis!"

"Over in Datong, to see this many heads, you'd have to go massacre villages. Back then, I couldn't stand how they were useless in battle but full of zeal for killing civilians. That's why I followed Shopkeeper Wang, and that's why I came to Xuzhou to follow Lord Jin!"

This pincer attack was a battle of total annihilation. In the end, fewer than a thousand captives remained alive, and they were now being driven to clear the battlefield.

Every Eight Banners soldier dispatched here from Liaoyang and Shenyang had grown rich through plunder, carrying no small amount of gold and silver on their persons. The Zhao Family Army would not let such valuables slip by. Even their clothes were stripped off. The Zhao Family Army naturally had no use for these bloodstained, filthy, and tattered garments, but considering the long, harsh winter ahead, these clothes would certainly serve a purpose.

In the past, the Zhao Family Army's approach to corpses was simple: if they were not their own fallen, they were burned or buried directly to prevent pestilence. But this time was somewhat different. As the captives searched the battlefield, they were also made to cut off every single head.

"What do they want these heads for? Our Zhao Family Army doesn't use them to trade for military merit and promotion."

"Just do as the higher-ups order. Why so much pointless talk!"

"It's still hot when the sun's out. So many heads left lying around will rot easily and could breed plague, with our main army encamped here."

"You don't need to worry about that. When has our Xuzhou command ever overlooked anything? I reckon ships with lime should be arriving soon!"