MLMD -Chapter 216 The Dispute Inside the Main Tent

The winter grasslands were desolate—sparse, withered blades of pasture grass standing slanted and lifeless across the plain. The howling cold wind did not blow from the northwest, yet when it struck a person it seemed to freeze straight into the bones. Across the vast grasslands, it was common to find stretches of hundreds of square kilometers without a single sign of human habitation.

Suddenly, a burst of singing drifted over from afar…

As sons, we must fulfill filial duty;
As ministers, we must give our utmost loyalty.
The court issues bonds to aid the state,
Spending heavily to raise and feed the troops.
A single soldier’s food and clothing cost over a hundred taels,
Equal to the salary of a sixth-rank official.
If we still refuse to serve the nation,
Heaven and earth, ghosts and gods alike will not forgive.
Since ancient times, generals and ministers have risen from the ranks—
Do not belittle the calling of a soldier.

The clear, resounding song echoed across the land. Unit after unit of troops clad in gray armor emerged from the distance. The cavalry arrived first, followed by the infantry, the artillery, and finally the logistics troops. Apart from the logistics soldiers—who wore mandarin-duck patterned battle jackets and iron-mesh boots—all other units were clad in heavy armor. The infantry in particular bore full sets of enclosed Gothic-style plate armor that alone weighed thirty jin. Add to that Minié rifles, ammunition pouches, and canteens, and each soldier carried at least forty jin. Marching under such a load was a severe test of endurance.

Marching fully armed was a requirement personally imposed by Yue Yang. In his view, this too was a form of training for the troops. At first, some officers in the army did not understand it. They felt that rather than wasting the soldiers’ strength on the march, it would be better to load the armor onto the supply wagons and don it only when battle came—saving energy while preserving combat effectiveness.

Yue Yang, however, firmly rejected this suggestion. The army had already passed beyond the frontier; this was effectively an overseas campaign. Enemy forces could appear at any moment. The enemy would not wait politely for everyone to finish putting on their armor before attacking. Marching without armor in unfamiliar territory where combat could erupt at any time—only a complete fool would do something like that.

It was now March 4. The army had been on the move for fifteen days and had long since crossed the border. They were less than a day’s march from Chifeng, where the Chahar tribe was located.

Over the past half month, Yue Yang’s force had maintained a pace of fifty li per day. In truth, if not for the drag of the logistics and artillery units, Yue Yang believed that eighty li per day would not have been impossible—though armies of this era could not be compared with those of later times. Yue Yang knew well that in later generations, even ordinary field units of our army could march thirty to forty kilometers a day on foot while carrying thirty-five kilograms. Such high-intensity marching was simply beyond the capabilities of today’s troops.

Seeing that the troops still maintained high morale, Yue Yang nodded in satisfaction. The army’s spirit was indeed usable.

“Clop, clop…”

The sound of hooves approached. Shun Bao rode up from behind, reining in his horse beside Yue Yang and saying, “My lord, we’re now less than seventy li from the Chahar tribe. We’ll definitely reach them tomorrow. How about we set up camp now and let the men rest a bit?”

Yue Yang glanced at the sky, then at the column, and shook his head. “There’s still plenty of daylight. No need to make camp yet. Let’s march another two hours.”

Shun Bao asked in some confusion, “Young master, is it really necessary to push this hard? What difference does arriving half a day or a day earlier make?”

When no outsiders were present, Shun Bao always liked to address Yue Yang as “young master.” To him, it was a way of showing closeness. Yue Yang never corrected the habit, tacitly allowing it.

Seeing Shun Bao’s puzzled look, Yue Yang patiently explained, “Shun Bao, it’s not that I don’t care about the soldiers—it’s that time waits for no one. The earlier we reach the Chahar tribe, the sooner we can give them confidence to resist the Later Jin barbarians. After Lindan Khan’s death, the Chahar have struggled on for a year already—it hasn’t been easy. If we arrive too late and the Chahar fully turn to Huang Taiji, we may very well be setting up a troublesome enemy for ourselves in the future. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand!” Seeing the seriousness on Yue Yang’s face, Shun Bao nodded solemnly. He had always trusted Yue Yang’s judgment.

Seizing the rare opportunity, Yue Yang continued, pointing toward the grasslands ahead. “Shun Bao, in the early Ming, this entire region was our Great Ming’s territory. The Mongols didn’t dare graze their herds within a hundred li of our borders. But look at it now—not only the Mongols, even the Jurchen barbarians dare to repeatedly violate our frontiers, loot our property, burn our homes, and enslave our people. This is a disgrace to us soldiers!”

The more Yue Yang spoke, the angrier he became, his expression growing impassioned. “And what about us? Ever since Sarhu, forget about venturing beyond the passes to meet the enemy—the officials and soldiers in the interior, unless they’re defending strong cities, will run faster than anyone the moment they see barbarians in the open. Troops like that can hardly be called soldiers anymore. So this time, when I lead troops beyond the frontier, it’s not only to support the Chahar tribe—it’s also to set an example for the officers and men of the Great Ming. I want to show them that our Ming soldiers can still fight the barbarians in field battles!”

Watching Yue Yang’s fervent expression, Shun Bao suddenly felt he understood his young master’s aspirations. He took a deep breath and declared loudly, “Young master, no matter whether the road ahead is a mountain of blades or a sea of fire, Shun Bao will accompany you!”

“Good! Then let us accomplish a great undertaking together!” Yue Yang laughed heartily as he clapped Shun Bao on the shoulder.

While Yue Yang and Shun Bao were pouring out their feelings to the vast grasslands, less than a hundred li away, in the Chahar tribal settlement at Chifeng, a group of people were gathered inside a large tent, deliberating a matter that would decide their fate.

In the early Ming, Chifeng had belonged to the Fuyu Guard of the Three Guards of Uriankhai and served as a protective screen along the Ming frontier. Sadly, as the strength of the Great Ming declined, the Three Guards of Uriankhai disappeared, and the Fuyu Guard became the Chahar tribe.

Though the Chahar had broken away from the Ming, they remained relatively friendly toward it. Their khan, Lindan Khan, had even sent envoys to Beijing several times requesting an audience with the Chongzhen Emperor, seeking to jointly resist the increasingly aggressive Jurchens. Unfortunately, the Ming decision-makers always found excuses to stall, ultimately leaving Lindan Khan to resist the Later Jin alone—ending in defeat and death.

After Lindan Khan’s death, his people split into several factions. Some intended to submit to the Jurchens; others resolved to resist to the end. Days earlier, Doutu-men Fujin had been the first to lead her people to submit to Huang Taiji, causing tremendous upheaval within the Chahar.

Now, the Chahar tribe was led by Lindan Khan’s Doro Fujin, Empress Dowager Nangnang Namu Zhong. The problem before her was stark: Huang Taiji had already dispatched an army of over ten thousand, led by Dorgon, Yueto, and Hooge, advancing toward the tribe. Though the Chahar still had more than six thousand troops, morale was shattered—commanders lacked the will to fight, soldiers lacked the desire to battle. Namu Zhong knew all too well that resisting the surging forces of the Later Jin with such troops was nothing but a fantasy. Under these circumstances, how to preserve the Chahar tribe had become the most urgent issue.

Inside a tent covering more than a hundred square meters sat over twenty men and women, young and old alike, all dressed in splendid Mongolian attire. These were the remaining senior leaders and chieftains of the Chahar tribe. At the head sat a woman clad in pure white sable fur. She appeared to be around thirty-four or thirty-five years old. Though her youthful bloom had faded, she remained strikingly beautiful. Her bearing combined valor and boldness with dignified elegance, naturally commanding respect and discouraging any from meeting her gaze directly. She was none other than Namu Zhong, the Doro Fujin and Empress Dowager of the late Lindan Khan.

Namu Zhong looked straight at those seated below and said, “You are all leaders of the Chahar tribe. Many things need not be spelled out—you surely understand them well. The Later Jin have dispatched Dorgon, Hooge, and Yueto to lead their army straight at our tribe, intending to swallow us whole. Dorgon has also sent an envoy with a letter stating that if we do not surrender to the Later Jin within three days, they will exterminate the Chahar tribe—leaving not even chickens or dogs alive. Everyone, speak your minds.”

Her words had barely fallen when the tent erupted in noise. Panic immediately spread across many faces. Soon, a Mongolian noblewoman about the same age as Namu Zhong cried out shrilly, “Sister Namu Zhong, if we surrender to the Later Jin, can we preserve our lives and property?”

“Yes! What exactly did those Jurchens say? Aside from demanding our surrender, did they promise anything else?”

“Exactly—we must settle this in advance. What if we submit and then they go back on their word?”

The tent buzzed with heated discussion.

Seeing this, disappointment and fatigue flickered in Namu Zhong’s eyes. This was her tribe. After Lindan Khan’s death, these people had turned into a flock of startled birds. Faced with the Later Jin army pressing in, their first thought was not how to resist, but how to surrender in a way most beneficial to themselves. Was such a tribe truly worth protecting? Remembering Lindan Khan’s dying injunctions, sorrow crept into Namu Zhong’s gaze.

At that moment, a burly Mongolian man stood up and shouted loudly, “What are you all doing? Lindan Khan was killed by the Jurchens not long ago, and you’re already clamoring to submit to them! Are you still descendants of Genghis Khan? How can you face Lindan Khan if you do this?”

The tent fell silent for a moment. Then a richly dressed noblewoman stood up, pointing at the man and shouting, “Bateer, it’s easy for you to talk when it’s not your back breaking! If you men were capable of protecting us, would we have been forced to consider surrendering to the Jurchens? Don’t you feel ashamed saying such things?”