Chapter 792: New Developments in Liaodong

After Louis and his servant arrived in Xuzhou, they were taken around to see everything, especially the workshops manufacturing firearms. The interpreter never left their side — aside from providing real-time translation, he was also tasked with listening in on as much of Louis and his servant's private conversations as possible.

This man truly did understand firearms; he and his old servant knew a great deal. As for the cannon-casting he had once boasted about, that was rather suspect.

However, Louis and his servant also seemed to have some understanding of military affairs. Every night, deep into the evening, a clerk from the Zhao Camp would go to the interpreter and have him recall every single word to the best of his ability. This record would then be passed into Zhao Jin's hands.

Louis and his servant had once chatted, saying that the Zhao Camp's formations and tactics were very similar to those of Europe, but they lacked the protection of firearms and were closer to a certain army from somewhere back in the day.

This conversation greatly interested Zhao Jin. Although the interpreter could not grasp the finer details, Zhao Jin could tell from these fragments that the man truly understood military matters. Moreover, that "certain army from somewhere back in the day" he mentioned was, in all likelihood, the Swiss pikemen.

But Zhao Jin was in no hurry to engage with him yet. He had heard that Louis was actively learning Chinese. The most exhausted person right now was that interpreter, who had to teach Louis Chinese, serve as translator, and also act as eyes and ears.

"This fellow Lu is eager to prove himself. He's already handed over the blueprints for a firearm, and the craftsmen are now building according to them. But I've seen it too, brother — the grip is a bit long, the barrel is shorter and thicker, and there's nothing else remarkable about it. Compared to a bird gun, it's even more cumbersome. Big Brother, is this really the kind you've been wanting all along?" Ji Xiang spoke up.

"Yes, this is exactly the kind," Zhao Jin said with a smile. Every time he heard everyone call Louis "Lu," he found it amusing. They all thought Louis's surname was "Lu," but Zhao Jin could not be bothered to correct them — there was no hard and fast rule about it anyway.

"Big Brother, you said that bracing against the shoulder makes firing more stable. That part is true enough. But this kind of firearm is all about range — if the barrel becomes shorter and thicker, won't it shoot less far?" Everyone knew Zhao Jin was in a good mood when discussing firearms, so Ji Xiang was willing to chat a few more lines.

"A thinner, longer barrel shoots farther — how do you know that?" Zhao Jin asked back with a smile.

Ji Xiang was about to speak but stopped himself. He thought for a moment, a pensive look on his face, and said, "Strange, really. I've always felt that way, but I have no actual proof."

"Once the kind I want is built, we'll compare and you'll understand."

After a few idle words, everyone in the room prepared to rise and take their leave. With morning and evening councils now, they were all busy beyond measure.

Just at that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps came from outside. The people in the room exchanged glances. Wang Zhaojing said in a low voice, "Could it be that the news has arrived?"

"My lord, an urgent letter from the capital." The announcement from outside confirmed Wang Zhaojing's guess.

The expressions of everyone in the room turned grave. By their reckoning of the days, the results from Liaodong should have come through. Wang Zhaojing strode out quickly to receive the letter, tore it open right there outside, and read as he walked. He stopped at the doorway and let out a sigh — there was no one here who needed to be kept in the dark.

"Big Brother, a great defeat in Liaodong. Shenyang and Liaoyang have been taken by the Jianzhou Jurchens. The Liaodong Military Commissioner, Yuan Yingtai, has died for his country."

Shenyang and Liaoyang were the two largest cities beyond the passes, the core and strongholds of all Liaodong. With these two places taken by the Jurchens, Liaodong was now completely lost.

Though everyone in the room had grown increasingly estranged from the Great Ming, Zhao Jin included, upon hearing this news, each of them felt an unbearably heavy heart, as if a weight pressed on their chests and they could not breathe — deeply uncomfortable.

"Let no one slack in the training of the household troops. If anyone grows lazy, send them out. Zhaojing, I'll speak, you write. Draft letters to every household troop regiment and battalion. I will inspect each place personally. No one is to let up!" Zhao Jin suddenly raised his voice, his words laced with killing intent.

The first year of the Tianqi reign, the thirteenth day of the third month. Shenyang City.

The city was already completely surrounded. Everywhere, the military tents of the Jianzhou Jurchen Jin army could be seen. The entire city of Shenyang looked like a lone white stone on a Go board, already enveloped by a mass of black stones.

Whether the Jin army outside the city or the Great Ming army within, both had already formed their battle lines, facing off as if a great foe were upon them. Clusters of weapons glinted coldly in the early spring sunlight, and a murderous aura permeated the air everywhere.

Clearly, a great battle was poised to erupt at any moment.

Originally, the Great Ming's Liaodong Military Commissioner, Yuan Yingtai, had planned to deploy the Ming army in three columns to attempt to recapture Qinghe, Fushun, and several other cities previously lost to the Jurchens. But unexpectedly, just as these military preparations had begun, the Jin Khan Nurhaci struck first, advancing all the way and ultimately leading his main force to besiege Shenyang.

Although Nurhaci's sudden offensive caught the Ming officers and soldiers in Shenyang off guard, they soon had no choice but to grimly accept reality and turn to fortifying Shenyang's defenses.

After years of repairs and emergency last-minute work, Shenyang City was now, by any standard, extremely well-fortified.

Outside Shenyang, there were broad moats. Below the city walls, the Ming army had also felled trees to build palisades, and on the battlements, Red Barbarian cannons stood ready to assist.

Precisely because he could see how tightly guarded Shenyang now was, Nurhaci, after attacking to the outskirts, did not dare press directly up to the city walls. Instead, he chose to encamp several li away in order to carefully plan his strategy for assaulting Shenyang.

Deep within the great camp of the Jianzhou Jurchen Jin army, a man on horseback was carefully observing the Ming army's deployment through a captured telescope.

The man appeared extremely robust. His tall, powerful build was especially striking as he forcefully controlled his horse, the soft back of the animal seeming almost to buckle under his weight. His tanned, resolute face was expressionless, yet carried the same murderous aura as the army around him. His forehead was broad and high, his eyes piercing and intent as they unblinkingly watched the troops marching before him. His wide, ruddy cheeks held a yellowish-brown tint, displaying an exceptionally abundant vitality. Though already in his sixtieth year, he still exuded a fierce, imposing vigor, in no way inferior to his soldiers.

This was the Khan of the Later Jin, Nurhaci.

Since raising his army, he had experienced countless campaigns, large and small, and had yet to taste defeat. The Battle of Sarhu two years prior, in particular, where he led tens of thousands of Eight Banners troops to utterly rout a Ming army of over a hundred thousand, had pushed his renown to its very peak.

And this time, he was leading the Jianzhou Jurchen Jin army on the offensive, aiming to crush the Great Ming's last two strongholds beyond the passes — Shenyang and Liaoyang.

If this objective could be achieved, the Jianzhou Jurchens would gain a firm and secure foothold in Liaodong and could then advance westward, scheming for more and more.

At the thought of this, the gaze he fixed upon Shenyang City could not help but grow even more fervent.

To probe the true state of Shenyang's defenses and gather more intelligence, Nurhaci dispatched several dozen scout cavalry to ride along the outskirts of the city, conducting reconnaissance from beyond the moats.

This was no reconnaissance at all — it was more like a show of force. The Ming army defending Shenyang would certainly not turn a blind eye to such blatant provocation.

"Lads, with me!"

The Great Ming's Regional Commander, You Shigong, let out a great roar and then led his trusted household troops to pursue these scout cavalry. After a brief but fierce mounted skirmish, they took four heads and then returned with ease.

Seeing the queue-haired heads in their hands, the defenders erupted in thunderous cheers, and the previously heavy atmosphere instantly lightened considerably. But even as the cheers rang out so loudly, the shadow hanging over the hearts of the Ming officers and soldiers had not yet fully dissipated — for the defeat at Sarhu had been far too crushing, leaving every man with more or less a lingering fear of the Jianzhou Jurchen Jin army.

"Withdraw the troops for today. We fight again tomorrow!" Having observed the outcome of this first contact, Nurhaci gave the order.

The next day, the rested and reorganized Jianzhou Jurchen Jin army marched out of their camp and slowly pressed toward Shenyang City. The tide-like military formation advanced on the city with an almost uniform cadence, exerting an indescribable pressure.

The Ming Regional Commander, He Shixian, sat astride his warhorse, silently watching the Jianzhou Jurchen Jin army draw nearer and nearer. He said not a word, and his personal guards and subordinates behind him likewise remained silent.

Only when the Jianzhou Jurchen Jin army was about to reach the city walls and the ferocious faces of the Jurchen soldiers in the front ranks were visible did he draw a deep breath.

The lingering chill of early spring filled his chest with piercing cold. Then, he drew his saber.

"Charge!"

At Regional Commander He's single command, his thousand-odd personal troops and subordinates followed him out of the city to meet the Jurchen army in battle. The household troops and personal guards led the way as the vanguard, with the infantry forming the rear and flanks. Their own momentum was equally fierce, their formation equally grand, in no way inferior to the Jianzhou Jurchen formation facing them.

There, beneath the walls of Shenyang City, the two armies advanced toward each other like two raging torrents, surging and rolling forward irresistibly. The two unstoppable torrents soon crashed together.

Queue-haired Jurchen soldiers and top-knotted Ming soldiers, each wielding their own weapons, threw themselves mercilessly into the slaughter. The faces of the soldiers on both sides twisted from the prolonged, savage fighting. Battle cries mingled with the sounds of blades clashing or piercing human flesh, merging into a seemingly endless, maddening din that made the soldiers' blood boil, driving them to charge at the enemy with even greater frenzy.

The chaotic slaughter did not last long. The Jurchen soldiers seemed to find the going tough and slowly pulled back, gradually regrouping, clearly intending to withdraw from the battlefield. But the Ming army, now drunk on the thrill of battle, would hardly let them escape so easily.

"Quickly, pursue!" Regional Commander He Shixian bellowed, then spurred his horse forward, leading the charge toward the Jurchen ranks.

At that very same moment, the Jianzhou Jurchen Jin army turned and fled.

"After them!" "Kill the slaves!"

One cry after another rang out across the entire battlefield. The Ming soldiers surged forward in pursuit of He Shixian.

The Jurchens had clearly panicked. They ran faster and faster along the way, some even discarding cumbersome armor and weapons. Seeing the enemy in such disarray, the Ming army let out wave after wave of cheers. They all felt that a long-awaited victory was now within easy reach — just keep pursuing, keep chasing, and they could slaughter the Jianzhou slaves to the last man!

I'm away from home, updating on schedule. It's the end of the month, everyone — please cast all your monthly tickets for Great Ming Wufu, lest they go to waste next month.