MLMD -Chapter 140 Only Regret Shortage of Troops When Needed

Hu Laosan’s words hit the nail on the head. Wulizhai was the lifeblood of Yue Yang. At this moment, it concentrated almost all of Yue Yang’s smelting plants, steel factories, cement works, and hundreds of thousands of acres of fertile land. If Wulizhai were lost, all the efforts Yue Yang had poured in over more than two years would be gone in an instant. After all, the greedy and ruthless Tatars only knew one thing: plunder and destruction.

If the Tatars were allowed to storm Wulizhai, one could imagine the consequences—and Yue Yang could not afford such a disaster. Therefore, for the sake of Wulizhai, he had no choice but to take the initiative and stop the Tatars outside its borders.

Seeing everyone’s suddenly gloomy faces, Yue Yang could only sigh helplessly. To be honest, he didn’t really want to go out and fight the Tatars immediately. His army wasn’t yet fully ready, cavalry was scarce, and although the infantry were all equipped with Minié-style muskets, this battle was no small skirmish. These were tens of thousands of Tatars. Not only were they numerically superior, but in an age without reconnaissance satellites, a sudden encounter with a Tatar main force could easily lead to total annihilation.

Looking at the silent faces around him, Yue Yang sighed again: “Now everyone understands, right? This isn’t about whether we want to fight or not. The Tatars are forcing our hand. Otherwise, do you think they’d just leave Wulizhai—this juicy piece of territory—alone?”

Everyone fell silent. Wulizhai had gained too much notoriety recently; as long as the Tatars’ ears weren’t deaf, they would certainly know. They wouldn’t hesitate to sweep through, grab some food and loot, and maybe even take a batch of craftsmen. Before leaving, they’d likely set the factories on fire with glee.

Shunbao frowned and said, “But the Tatars have vast numbers. We only have a mere eight thousand troops. To defend Yingzhou at least three thousand men are needed, and Wulizhai would also require two to three thousand. Then what forces would we have left to harass the Tatars?”

“Only regret the shortage of troops when the need arises.” This was the perfect description of Yue Yang at this moment. On ordinary days, he thought eight thousand soldiers were plenty—comparable to the forces of some commanders within the Ming borders. But now he realized that while eight thousand looked substantial, when it came time for serious battle, it was truly insufficient.

After careful consideration, Yue Yang made a decision. He said to his men: “Here’s what we’ll do. Shunbao, you take a thousand infantry to defend Yingzhou. Hu Laosan, you command a thousand cavalry to guard Wulizhai. From now on, transfer Wulizhai’s important supplies—grain, silver, valuables—into Yingzhou. I will lead two thousand infantry and two thousand cavalry forward to draw the Tatars’ attention, ensuring you have enough time.”

“Absolutely not!”

The moment Yue Yang finished, everyone erupted in protest. Shunbao was the first to stand, his face red: “Sir, you are our commander. How can you personally risk danger? It should be the standard-bearer leading the troops into battle!”

“Yes, sir! Your safety is tied to the future of Wulizhai. If you fall, we lose our backbone!” Hu Laosan added anxiously.

“Sir, please reconsider!” others joined in, urging him.

“What’s all the yelling for? I’m not dead yet!” Seeing their frantic faces, Yue Yang felt a flash of irritation despite knowing they were worried for him.

If even one of his subordinates were capable of taking the lead, Yue Yang wouldn’t have to go himself. After all, as a modern-era person raised under the Red Flag, he valued his life. But none of his officers were yet capable of independent command. Hu Laosan was brave but lacked strategic thinking. Shunbao had strategy but lacked ruthlessness. Feng Xiaoming was too cautious, always prioritizing preservation of forces. As for Wu Chengfeng, the cavalry commander, his prestige was too low; troops might not obey him. Thinking it over, Yue Yang decided it was still best for him to go personally.

“Alright, don’t worry too much. Even if I can’t win, do you think I wouldn’t retreat? What’s there to fear?” Yue Yang tried to lighten the mood, hiding his own anxiety.

Seeing his resolve, the generals had no choice but to accept the order and immediately began preparations.

Back at the inner residence, Yue Yang informed his three wives of his campaign. Their reactions differed. Hailanzhu, following Mongolian tradition, fetched Yue Yang’s armor and his finely forged long sword to polish them, then instructed servants to select a red steed from the horses given at her marriage to Zaisang as his mount. As a woman raised on horseback, war was nothing unusual to her.

Yulong pouted: “We’ve only had a few days of peace. Why must you go fight again?”

Yue Yang pulled her close, kissed her smooth forehead, and said with a smile: “Don’t pout. I’ll be back soon. Be good and wait for me.”

Then he turned to Yuling: “And you, Ling’er, you and Long’er must behave at home, understand?”

“Yes, husband. Go early and return soon!” The gentle Yuling nodded obediently. Though worried, she hid it.

Seeing this, Hailanzhu smiled and reassured them: “Sisters, your husband is a man and a Mingwei general appointed by the court. Now that there’s war, he cannot avoid it. Our role as women is simply to take care of the household so he has no worries behind him.”

That night, after dinner, Yue Yang did not rest but eagerly led the Yulong sisters by the hand to Hailanzhu’s room.

“Bang!” The door clicked shut.

Soon, the room was filled with sounds of passionate whispers and heavy breathing…

Early the next morning, under the reluctant gaze of his three wives, Yue Yang led two thousand infantry, two thousand cavalry, and over a thousand supply troops to set out. His first destination was Hunyuan Prefecture. According to relay reports and information from the Youshan Division, the Later Jin army had already taken Shaguo Fort and was moving toward Hunyuan. If the Tatars captured Hunyuan, Yingzhou and Wulizhai would inevitably be next.

Three days later, about a hundred miles from Hunyuan, at Beilou Pass.

The ancients often described autumn weather as “clear and crisp,” but in mid-July of the seventh year of Chongzhen, the weather in Shanxi was oppressive. The drought had lasted over half a year, and in many places the fields were cracked like spider webs.

Although Yue Yang’s Wulizhai had a bumper harvest, alleviating famine and the increase of refugees in Shanxi, it was only partial relief. Wulizhai was still small, and ongoing drought had worsened land consolidation, leaving more uncultivable land and fewer irrigated fields, aggravating the disaster.

To be honest, Yue Yang had been in this timeline for over two years, yet this was his first time traveling so far. Seeing the cracked fields and ragged refugees, he sighed: “No wonder our ancestors said it’s better to be a dog in peaceful times than a man in chaotic ones. Look at these starving people—I wonder if they’ll survive until the harvest! The commoners suffer so much, yet the court is powerless to aid them. When will such days end?”

Wu Chengfeng, riding a black warhorse behind him, comforted him: “Sir, don’t blame yourself. Shanxi is still relatively fortunate. Were it not for Wulizhai’s harvest and the gathering of tens of thousands of refugees, we’d face a situation like Shaanxi, with people fleeing everywhere.”

“Yes, sir!” Feng Xiaoming also nodded, withdrawing his wandering gaze: “Take the standard-bearer, for example. When he and Feng Xiaozi were at the Yingzhou garrison, vice-commanders like us barely had enough from the soldiers’ small plots to survive, and we rarely enjoyed meat on festivals. Since following you to Wulizhai, though not rich, we at least have three meals a day and can afford some cloth for our wives and children on holidays. Compared to these starving people, our lives now feel like paradise.”

“Still, I feel I haven’t done enough,” Yue Yang shook his head. “The people already suffer, yet the Tatars raid them repeatedly. As a Ming general, I feel guilty toward the common folk.”

In the modern timeline, Yue Yang and his coworkers had low incomes, but even the lowest strata could survive with enough food and clothing. Here, however, he truly understood what it meant to live a life worse than death. Surviving and having a meal was already a blessing.

Hearing Yue Yang, Wu Chengfeng and Feng Xiaoming silently agreed.

Just then, urgent hoofbeats sounded ahead. Feng Xiaoming cupped his ear and said: “Sir, around a dozen riders are approaching. Seems our night patrol won’t return.”

The hoofbeats grew louder, and soon over a dozen cavalry in dark gray light armor appeared, slowing as they approached Yue Yang. Yue Yang signaled his men to rein in their mounts.

Leading them was a squad leader from the Night Patrol. Dismounting, he shouted: “Third squad, fifth watch, squad leader Bai Kai reports to Lord Yue!”