Chapter 79: Capture

Hongwu Year Four, April 15.

In Mobei, spring arrives late; the grassland is still a stretch of withered yellow, with only a few specks of fresh green poking out of the cracked, dry soil fissures.

The wind is strong, blowing from the Northern Region, stirring up a sky of yellow sand.

Zhu Yong's army rested for two days on the north bank of the Kerulen River, the horses nibbling the newly sprouted tender grass, gradually regaining vigor.

At dawn that day, as the sky just began to lighten, the camp bustled into activity.

The soldiers dismantled tents, packed gear, inspected weapons, preparing to continue northward.

Zhu Yong stood on a high slope at the edge of the camp, gazing toward the Northern Region.

The wind tossed his hair into disarray, and his leather coat rustled loudly.

"Prince, the wind is too strong today; it looks like a sandstorm is coming," Wang Baobao walked to his side, squinting at the sky.

"Can we move?" Zhu Yong asked.

"We can move, but we must go slowly; the sandstorm makes it impossible to keep eyes open, and the horses dislike traveling," Wang Baobao replied.

Lan Yu also came from the camp, a cloth wrapped over his face leaving only his eyes visible, saying, "Damn it, this cursed place has wind every day, and this wind is sharper than a knife, cutting the face painfully."

Zhu Yong said nothing, turned and walked back toward the camp.

At the start of the Chen Hour, the army broke camp and set out.

Sure enough, as Wang Baobao said, the wind grew stronger and the sandstorm denser.

Between Heaven and Earth a gray haze spread, and beyond ten steps human silhouettes were invisible.

The soldiers covered their mouths and noses with cloth, heads down, trudging forward with difficulty.

The horses snorted anxiously, occasionally refusing to go.

Zhu Yong rode a Wuzhui Horse at the front, needing no cloth; the sand blew on his face, yet he didn't even blink.

Wang Baobao followed beside him, shielding his face with the sleeve of his leather coat, shouting, "Prince, moving this slowly is too much; shall we find a place to shelter from the wind?"

Zhu Yong looked around; in the distance were several mounds that could block the wind.

"Go there," he pointed toward the mounds.

The army turned and moved toward the mounds.

Upon reaching the leeward side of the mounds, the wind indeed lessened greatly.

Zhu Yong ordered a rest, to wait for the wind to die down before proceeding.

The soldiers sat against the base of the mounds, pulling dry rations and water from their packs.

The dry rations were stir-fried flour, mixed with water into a paste, barely swallowable.

Zhu Yong ate some as well, then rose to scout the surroundings.

The mounds were not high, but stretched continuously, as if shaped by years of wind and sand erosion.

Scattered on the ground were some white bones, some belonging to cattle and sheep, and… humans.

"A battle fought here?" Zhu Yong picked up a skull, its surface marked by sword cuts.

Wang Baobao walked over, looked, and nodded, "Yes, three years ago Yesuder and Toghus Temur fought a battle here, many died."

"Who won?" Zhu Yong asked.

"Yesuder won, so Toghus Temur went to Helin, and now has gone to Buyuerhai; however that battle also cost Yesuder heavily," Wang Baobao said.

Zhu Yong tossed the skull back onto the ground, dusting his hand.

At that moment, a scout rider burst from the sandstorm, hurrying to Zhu Yong's side.

"Prince, to the northeast we spotted Northern Yuan cavalry, about three hundred, heading this way," he reported.

"How far..." Zhu Yong asked.

"Less than ten li, the sandstorm is strong; they move slowly, but their direction is indeed this side," the scout panted.

Wang Baobao's face changed, "It may be a patrol sent by Toghus Temur; we must leave quickly."

"We can't move; the sandstorm is so fierce that any hoofprint would be exposed," Zhu Yong said, looking toward the northeast.

"What then?" Lan Yu drew his waist knife.

Zhu Yong thought briefly, "Attack, devour them all, leave none."

He looked at Wang Baobao, "Elder Brother, is there any suitable ambush spot nearby?"

Wang Baobao scanned the surroundings, pointing to the opposite side of the mounds, "There's a dried river trench there, good for hiding people."

"Fine, set an ambush in the trench," Zhu Yong ordered.

The army moved swiftly, leading the horses into the trench.

The trench wasn't deep, but sufficient to conceal bodies.

Soldiers crouched along the trench edge, swords drawn, arrows nocked.

Zhu Yong, Wang Baobao, and Lan Yu lay in the front, watching the northeast through the sandstorm.

About a quarter hour later, a shadow of a cavalry unit emerged in the sandstorm.

Indeed it was Northern Yuan cavalry, about three hundred, clad in leather coats, wearing leather hats, with curved blades at their waists.

They trudged through the sandstorm, occasionally stopping to orient themselves.

The leader was a middle‑aged man with a scar on his face, none other than Hala, a Thousand Household under Toghus Temur.

"This cursed weather, and they still send us out on patrol!" a young rider complained.

"Enough chatter, the Great King's order—if you dare disobey, the supply convoy will be robbed, the Great King is already angry; watch your head get chopped off," Hala glared at him.

The young rider drew his neck back, no longer daring to speak.

The unit continued forward, gradually approaching the mounds.

Hala looked at the mounds, telling those beside him, "Go there to shelter from the wind; wait until it eases before moving."

The cavalry turned, heading toward the mounds.

In the river trench, Zhu Yong squinted his eyes.

Zhu Yong made a gesture, and the soldiers behind him gripped their weapons tightly.

The Northern Yuan cavalry drew nearer, their horses' outlines now clearly visible.

Fifty paces, thirty paces, twenty paces…

"Fire the arrows!" Zhu Yong shouted.

"Swish swish swish..."

Hundreds of Arrows shot out from the river trench, falling into the Northern Yuan cavalry like raindrops.

A wail rose as dozens were struck by arrows and fell from their horses.

"Ambush! Meet the enemy!" Hala exclaimed in alarm, drawing his sword and shouting.

But the sandstorm was too fierce; the Northern Yuan cavalry's formation scattered, unable to mount an effective counterattack.

Zhu Yong leapt out of the river trench, Double Hammers in hand, charging into the enemy ranks like a ferocious tiger.

"Boom!"

A hammer slammed down, crushing both rider and horse into a mush of flesh.

A second sweeping hammer struck, snapping three cavalry at the waist, spraying a mist of blood.

Wang Baobao and Lan Yu also led their troops forward; the Ming army surged like wolves and tigers, dividing and encircling the Northern Yuan cavalry.

Seeing this, Hala realized the ambush, turned his horse's head and tried to flee.

Zhu Yong would not let him go; he took long strides, caught up, and hammered the horse's leg.

"Crack!" The horse's leg snapped, and Hala fell from the saddle.

He tried to rise, but Zhu Yong's hammer was already pressed against his chest.

"Don't… don't kill me…" Hala's face turned deathly pale as he begged in halting Mandarin.

The battle ended quickly.

Three hundred Northern Yuan cavalry suffered over two hundred casualties, and the remaining dozens surrendered.

The Ming army sustained only ten or so injuries, with no deaths.

Zhu Yong ordered his soldiers to clear the battlefield and escorted the captives to the side.

Hala was brought before Zhu Yong, kneeling on the ground and trembling.

"Are you people of Toghus Temur?" Zhu Yong asked.

Hala did not understand Mandarin, staring blankly at him.

Wang Baobao walked over and asked again in Mongolian.

Hala hurriedly nodded, "Yes, we are under Great King Toghus, ordered to march south for inspection."

"Inspect what?" Wang Baobao asked.

"Our supply convoy was robbed; the Great King suspects enemy forces have infiltrated, so we were sent to search along the river," Hala said.

Wang Baobao translated it for Zhu Yong.

Zhu Yong nodded and asked, "How many people are in Toghus Temur's Military Camp, and where is it located?"

Hala hesitated for a moment.

Zhu Yong pushed his hammer forward, the head nearly touching Hala's nose.

Terrified, Hala stammered, "I... I... The Military Camp is on the west shore of Buyuerhai, with eight thousand cavalry, five thousand infantry, plus laborers and families, totaling over twenty thousand people."