Chapter 1379: We Are No Longer Ming Troops

Lime is used for curing and preservation — that's what they use to preserve corpses these days. The man who said this came from the grasslands, and the one nodding in agreement came from Shandong. Many in the cavalry regiment were not originally from Xuzhou, but everyone was used to saying "our Xuzhou." Everyone thought of themselves as old brothers from Xuzhou. In reality, within the Zhao Family Army, there were already several layers based on seniority, and "Xuzhou Old Brothers" was an established term — these were the core backbone of the Zhao Family Army.

"Back when we were running wild on the grasslands, who could have imagined today? Even less could we have imagined the sea being this vast, or ships this huge. How much can one cart carry on the grasslands? How much can one of these ships carry? And these cannons!"

Not long after nightfall, a regiment from the First Brigade also force-marched to this location. With this regiment's participation, the cavalry began rotating their rest. They had been transported directly by the fleet yesterday, landing at a private dock near Yongning Garrison City, then immediately used two heavy cannons to blast open Yongning Garrison City. The cavalry dismounted and charged, taking the city directly.

After securing Yongning Garrison City, the Zhao Family Army's Second Cavalry Regiment and the First Brigade's cavalry company began sorties, cutting off communications between Yongning Garrison City and Fuzhou City — in effect, severing all contact from the north to Fuzhou and Jinzhou. Of course, within those two days, there hadn't been any messages to pass anyway.

Because the Zhao Family Army cavalry appeared so suddenly, and because their mobility ensured no one slipped through the net, the Jianzhou Jurchen troops in Fuzhou City had no idea that Yongning Garrison City to the north had already been taken. What followed was the ambush and interdiction — the Zhao Family Army cavalry achieved maximum surprise and shock effect.

Achieving all this, however, was grueling. The infantry, unaccustomed to sailing, ate poorly and slept poorly on the ships; seasickness was routine. And the cavalry, besides getting little rest themselves, also had to care for their mounts. The horses were even more stressed by the shipboard environment and needed constant soothing, feeding, and watering.

The same was true when disembarking. The infantry could jump straight into the shallows and run ashore, but the horses could not. They had to find suitable spots to lower the gangplanks, with ships taking turns one by one. Even a large ship couldn't offload many cavalry at once, making the process interminably long.

Once the main force was ashore, it was straight into combat. After taking the city, they immediately had to arrange pursuit and interdiction, and also send word to Chen Sheng below Fuzhou City.

The horses of the cavalry regiment and cavalry company were always guaranteed ample rest, but the cavalrymen themselves were kept busy with both cavalry and infantry duties. Many still hadn't slept at all by this point.

Whatever the future might hold, the situation before them was settled — a great victory, one could even call it a complete victory. All that remained was mopping up. With the relatively less exhausted infantry taking over, the cavalry could rest. The cavalrymen forced themselves to finish tending their mounts, then simply leaned against one another or spread a felt blanket on the ground and fell into deep sleep.

Bayin, the commander of the Second Cavalry Regiment, had bloodshot eyes and couldn't stop yawning, but he did not sleep. His personal guards were rotating their rest, and he was rotating the alert duties among several companies — someone had to remain awake at all times.

The commander of the regiment from the First Brigade that had come in pursuit had already finished his briefing and gone off to his own tasks. Bayin leaned against his horse, occasionally pulling out a silver flask for a sip.

Inside that silver flask was Hanjing Famous Liquor. The Zhao Family Army strictly forbade drinking during wartime, but the Mongols loved their drink and had no resistance to this rich, potent liquor. In the end, they had silver flasks uniformly made for everyone from company commander and above — a two-ounce capacity, and that was all they got per day during wartime. Drinking more or carrying private stashes was punishable by military law. But Bayin and his subordinates knew their limits, and the practice had been maintained ever since.

Just as he was drinking, a battalion commander came over and said in a low voice, "Eji, according to those kids running errands, once we finish off Jianzhou, we're definitely heading to the grasslands to make a move. Our Master Jin's ambitions are enormous."

"Eji" meant elder brother in Mongolian — that was about the only Mongolian phrase he used; everything else was official speech with a Xuzhou accent. As he spoke, the battalion commander's face was full of excitement.

"Don't go prying for news from those kids all the time when you've got nothing better to do. Serving by Master Jin's side running errands is a blessing for them. If they get kicked out for talking out of turn, you'll have done them harm."

"It's fine. What they tell me is definitely news they've been allowed to leak."

Hearing the battalion commander's carefree reply, Bayin couldn't help but laugh. Back when Wang Ziyang had scoured the grasslands for people to offer to Zhao Jin, there had been several batches of young children. The girls were placed partly with Xu Zhenzhen and Mu Shulan as maidservants, and partly with the parents. Those at Zhao Jin's parents' place learned needlework and household management; those with Xu Zhenzhen and Mu Shulan didn't just serve people — some learned bookkeeping and management, others learned reconnaissance and such.

Because everything in Zhao Jin's household was kept simple, the serving staff were mostly those Xu Zhenzhen had brought from the Xu family, and on Mu Shulan's side, former members of the Fragrance Sect. Among the newly recruited, there were only these young girls. They were technically slaves, but because the Zhao family treated them with kindness and generosity, every one of them was utterly devoted — which was precisely why they could be entrusted with and taught confidential and important matters.

It was much the same with the boys. Zhao Jin kept a batch of them in the training corps, and Wang Zhaojing kept a batch for clerical and confidential work.

Because these children were of Mongol origin, the girls were kept in the inner quarters and not easily seen, but the boys were well-liked by all the cavalry units. This battalion commander speaking with Regiment Commander Bayin was considerably older than the others. He had once had a wife and children, but they had died on the grasslands, so he was especially close to these boys and girls who had come from the grasslands, constantly asking after their well-being. And so, some news that others learned of late would leak out to him.

These youths were involved in confidential matters, closely watched by the Internal Guard and several intelligence branches, and they also kept watch on each other. Anyone who leaked secrets had long since been purged. That news still came out now simply meant it was being deliberately floated — letting those who needed to know, know, or giving everyone a heads-up.

The battalion commander who passed on the news understood this logic perfectly, of course. He chuckled, not bothered in the least, then lowered his voice again and said, "I reckon, once we're done out here beyond the pass, and after we take the other provinces, it'll be time to make a move on the grasslands. Knowing our Master Jin's temperament, he won't tolerate anyone else's territory under heaven."

These were grand words, but everyone took them as a matter of course. Bayin, who had been chatting idly, straightened up, his expression turning solemn. What this battalion commander knew, he naturally knew as well — he just hadn't paid it much mind before. The Zhao Family Army held only a province and a half of territory; talking about the whole realm was premature, let alone the grasslands. But now, with such battle achievements in Liaodong, and having crossed the sea to attack at that — now that such an inconceivable feat had been accomplished, the grasslands no longer seemed out of reach.

"... If... if Master Jin is truly willing to send troops against the grasslands, those Tumed and Chahar curs... I won't let them off..."

By the end, Bayin had slipped back into Mongolian. They had been taken in by Wang Ziyang and then served under Zhao Jin's command. Before that, they had all been horse-bandits wandering and scraping by on the grasslands, and they all bore grudges against those great tribes that dominated the steppe — either their own tribes had been swallowed up, or they had been massacred. But they had never thought of revenge. Against such grassland giants, they were too weak and alone to do anything. But now, that possibility existed.

As they were talking, the area in front of Yongning Garrison City grew bright. The cleanup was finished, and the beheaded corpses were being gathered and set alight with fat and firewood from within the city. Great pyres blazed fiercely, and the air was thick with the stench of charred flesh. Bayin took a sip of his liquor and yawned.

The next day, the First Regiment of the First Brigade also arrived. They had marched overland, but large ships from Fuzhou Bay had also followed the coastline to the vicinity of Yongning Garrison City. Just as Bayin had said, everything had been thoroughly planned — the lime had already arrived, and there were even prepared containers.

The severed heads were dealt with promptly — on one hand, it made them easier to preserve, and on the other, it prevented decay from spreading disease. The captives were once again driven to work, their mouths and noses wrapped in white cloth, and began the processing.

Chen Jisheng and Zhang Pan, who were originally from the Jinzhou garrison, did not remain in Fuzhou City, nor did they return to Jinzhou. Instead, they had come here with the First Regiment. Seeing such a great victory, the two men found that they did not feel the excitement and elation they had expected.

Having witnessed the Zhao Family Army's strength and lethality, such battle results seemed entirely a matter of course. These men, who had come from the Ming forces in Liaodong, were filled with a thousand mixed emotions. The tiger they themselves feared was, in the other side's eyes, mere pigs and sheep. Wave after wave of their own had charged forward, throwing away their lives, yet still unable to win — while the other side had suffered hardly any losses.

"If someone had told me this before, I'd have thought it a joke, even absurd. Who decides before the battle that their side is certain to win and starts preparing to clean the battlefield and process the heads? But the Zhao Family Army really did just that — and they were right to do so!"

"All told, they must have cut down nine thousand real Tartars. Nearly nine thousand!"

When he spoke that number, Zhang Pan's voice trembled slightly, even carrying a hint of a sob.

"When the Tartars took Fushun and swept south to break Qinghe Fort, Shenyang, Liaoyang, then on to Guangning — how many of our Great Ming brothers died? And how many Tartars did we kill? This Zhao Family Army has only just arrived, and this... this..."

Zhang Pan could barely go on. His lips trembled uncontrollably, and his eyes began to redden. Chen Jisheng sighed. He understood what Zhang Pan was feeling — it wasn't jealousy or resentment, just a deep, aching sigh. Thinking of all those who had died, and then seeing how effortless this was now.

Just then, cheers erupted from the area where the battlefield was being processed: "That Tartar prince's head has been found! They've beheaded a prince!"

"Who killed him? This is a merit beyond measure!"

The area around the head-processing site was filled with laughter and cheerful voices, everyone looking thrilled. Zhang Pan rubbed his face and shook his head, saying, "These people really don't understand. Nurhaci's sons are divided into noble and base. The base ones aren't worth much; the noble ones are on par with imperial princes."

"Don't understand? We understand, all right — but have we ever taken the head of even a Tartar company commander?" Chen Jisheng's tone carried a note of impatience.