Chapter 794: Before the Walls of Liaoyang

These silent, battle-hardened troops, with their varied armor, weapons, and accoutrements, and marching under banners of different colors, presented a kaleidoscopic yet impeccably disciplined sight. This army seemed intent on grinding every obstacle ahead into dust; the queue-wearing soldiers, as if emulating the pine forests lining the road, stared ahead with expressionless, unwavering resolve.

Behind this force interwoven with banners of gold, silver-white, crimson, and indigo, a group of tireless cavalrymen wove through the various formations, darting back and forth between units like messenger pigeons flitting across the sky, delivering a multitude of orders and maintaining the entire army's advance.

Apart from the sounds of marching, the entire army was utterly silent. The spring breeze ruffled the long tassels atop the soldiers' caps, further accentuating their expressions of rapt, breath-held concentration. Only the unintentional clanking of metal from weapons striking together and the rumbling thunder of hooves striking the earth broke the quiet—these soft sounds, like the thunder that heralds a storm, proclaimed the vigorous vitality of a rising nation and its determination to obliterate all obstacles.

There were, however, subtle differences. Most of the troops were silent, but a small portion was quite boisterous. Looking over, every Eight Banners unit wore expressions of disdain and contempt, yet the boisterous contingent remained oblivious, their faces full of smug satisfaction and arrogance.

These were the Ming troops who had surrendered and defected in previous battles. Perhaps even they themselves found it strange: back when they were enemies of the Jianzhou Jurchen Jin army, they would collapse at the first encounter, never daring to resist. Yet now, having switched sides, they were suddenly so fierce and valiant, daring to charge and to assault city walls under a hail of arrows, logs, and stones. As for the contempt of the Eight Banners soldiers around them, these surrendered troops paid it no mind—such treatment was only to be expected after surrendering.

"These lowly wretches, you never see any skill from them in battle or siege, but when it comes to burning, killing, and making merry in Shenyang city, they're livelier than anyone." Some Eight Banners Niru Ejen and others were heard discussing with scorn.

At the rear of this great army followed a small cavalry detachment. This detachment was not in an ordinary marching state but constantly surrounded a man riding a tall, powerful horse and clad in golden-yellow armor, guarding him with meticulous care. Moreover, at irregular intervals, riders would come and go around him, reporting on the army's situation and simultaneously conveying his every command.

Every unit that drew near this man could not help but cast their gazes upon his awe-inspiring figure. An indescribable fervor swelled among the waiting troops, and even their footsteps seemed to quicken.

For this was their Great Khan, the man of destiny who had led them from one victory to the next. Though clearly an old man, he looked like a vigorous middle-aged man, a flame burning from within and without!

This was the man who, since raising his army, had been invincible in battle, conquering tribe after tribe and then commanding them under his banner for the next round of conquest. After over a decade of warfare, not a single Jurchen tribe dared to resist his radiance; all prostrated themselves at his feet, becoming his servants and claws for continued conquest.

This radiance had recently reached an almost unbelievable pinnacle. Under the Great Khan's leadership, with fearless spirit, they had maneuvered and struck, defeating Ming armies several times their size, and finally, in the decisive battle at Sarhu, annihilated the Ming forces. The seemingly invincible Great Ming had proved so pathetically fragile before him, collapsing like dry weeds and rotten wood.

No one else could have accomplished such a great feat!

After winning the Battle of Sarhu, Nurhaci had been virtually deified by his soldiers. They had cast aside their initial fear and hesitation, firmly believing that as long as they followed this man, they could never fail again—and this was precisely the morale the Great Khan needed.

Amidst the reverence and gazes of the multitude, the Great Khan Nurhaci calmly issued one command after another, maintaining the army's orderly march as it rolled inexorably toward the Great Ming's last major city in Liaodong.

In the occasional lull, his thoughts did not dwell on this seemingly endless march, but instead drifted far away, to a time long past.

Indeed, he was not as calm as he appeared on the surface at this moment. On the contrary, he felt an irrepressible excitement; the hot blood in his veins seemed to boil, as if he felt none of the biting cold wind buffeting his face.

For he had just seized a colossal victory he had never before dared to imagine, and through such a victory, had secured a position as the veritable overlord of Liaodong.

After winning the Battle of Sarhu, Shenyang had been easily taken by his army. Now, only Liaoyang remained—the largest city beyond the passes, lying at the end of this very road. And no one, absolutely no one, could stop him from seizing this victory.

Once Liaoyang was taken, what place beyond the passes would be beyond his reach to gallop and rampage at will?

When he learned that Nikan Wailan had slaughtered his entire family, when he fled in panic back to Jianzhou with his younger brother, when he resolutely raised his army with only thirteen suits of armor and declared war on the seemingly unshakable Great Ming—how could he ever have imagined he would achieve such glorious deeds!

No, this was not the end of his achievements. He felt his desire for conquest had not faded amidst such victories but was instead burning ever more fiercely.

Du Song and Liu Ting were famed as the realm's greatest generals, yet in battle, they suffered defeat after defeat, unable even to preserve their own lives. Yuan Yingtai was renowned as both a scholar and warrior, a civil official of the highest rank in the Great Ming, yet before his army, he was utterly routed and could now only cower within the walls of Liaoyang, waiting to be overwhelmed by him in a single assault.

He knew that after suffering such a catastrophic defeat, the Great Ming would certainly not let the matter rest. They would undoubtedly continue to dispatch more generals and more civil officials to confront him.

But he was utterly without fear.

The unprecedented victory had not only given the soldiers confidence but had also made Nurhaci himself incomparably self-assured.

In this world, who else could contend with me!

The smug satisfaction after victory, coupled with boundless heroic pride, made this Jurchen Great Khan throw his head back and laugh heartily.

The cavalrymen nearby did not know what their Great Khan was laughing at, but they felt the heroic spirit within his laughter. They simply followed silently beside the Great Khan, uttering not a word.

Just as Nurhaci was laughing uproariously at the sky, several riders broke away from a formation flying red banners and galloped toward the Great Khan's location.

Such an unusual situation naturally drew Nurhaci's gaze. He could not help but look over and then discovered that the leader of that group was unexpectedly his own second son, Daišan, the banner lord of the Plain Red Banner.

"Daišan, what is it!" Nurhaci barked out directly as the riders were about to arrive before him.

Unlike Nurhaci's casualness, before reaching Nurhaci, Daišan immediately dismounted, knelt respectfully on the ground, and only then answered loudly.

"Daišan has a matter to report to Father Khan!"

"Rise and speak!" Nurhaci reined in his horse and slowly advanced.

Because Nurhaci's eldest son, Cuyen, had been imprisoned and died at Nurhaci's own hands several years prior, Daišan was now Nurhaci's eldest surviving son and an important general under his command. Both publicly and privately, Nurhaci would afford him a certain outward respect.

Having received Nurhaci's command, Daišan dared not delay and hastily mounted his horse again, advancing slowly alongside Nurhaci with the main force.

"Speak. What is it?"

"Reporting to Father Khan, judging by the current marching speed, we will reach the walls of Liaoyang within two or three days..." Daišan carefully watched Nurhaci, and after confirming there was no sign of anger, cautiously inquired, "Therefore, Daišan wishes to first ask, what arrangements does Father Khan have for the upcoming deployment? That way, we can make preparations soon and avoid having to deploy hastily only once we are at the city walls..."

Daišan's expression was extremely respectful, even revealing a trace of fear beneath the calm, nothing like a great general of the Later Jin state who commanded tens of thousands. He had to be this cautious, for he knew clearly in his heart that his father had lost absolute trust in him—his father was suspicious of him and would not tolerate him diminishing the Khan's authority in the slightest.

Just the previous year, in the fifth year of the Tianming reign, Nurhaci, citing Daišan's mistreatment of his own two sons at the instigation of his second wife, had forced those two sons—Yoto and Šoto—to separate from Daišan's household and publicly declared the abolition of Daišan's position as Crown Prince.

Only after forcing Daišan to kill his second wife and making him swear an oath with his younger brothers that, should he ever again harbor resentment against the Beile and ministers, he would willingly accept punishment from Heaven and Earth, did the Great Khan forgive him. For his prestige had been severely battered, and he no longer had any means to compete with the Great Khan for glory.

Having figured all this out, the severely battered Daišan no longer dared to show any disobedience before his father. He feared his father, feared that one day the Great Khan would treat him the same way he had treated the Great Khan's own younger brother, Šurhaci, and eldest son, Cuyen—locking him up and letting him die in captivity.

To avoid this nightmare, ever since suffering this setback, Daišan prioritized the Great Khan's commands above all else, absolutely not daring to show any disrespect. He had lost his original soaring ambition and only wanted to protect the vested interests in his hands. As long as his Plain Red Banner was not touched, he cared about nothing and could accept anything.

His utterly submissive attitude satisfied Nurhaci from the bottom of his heart.

Gazing at the distant sun, Nurhaci narrowed his eyes leisurely.

"How is the morale of your men right now?"

"Everyone's morale is soaring! They can't wait to reach the walls of Liaoyang and take this great city! To seize the wealth, women, and children of the Ming people!" Daišan quickly replied ingratiatingly. "With the ever-victorious Father Khan leading us, what do we have to fear!"

Thanks to the three old friends "Mu Ming, Yuan Heng Li Zhen, Wu Liulang" for their tips, and thanks everyone for your monthly tickets and subscriptions. During this double monthly ticket period, I continue to need everyone's support.