MLMD -Chapter 229 Namuzhong Backs Down

Alongside the thunder of hooves came a series of loud shouts. As Haoge issued the order to retreat, a cavalry force of over a thousand from the Ming army appeared before them, led by Wu Chengfeng, commander of the Yingzhou cavalry battalion. This was already the second time today he had faced off against Haoge’s forces with his cavalry.

The thousand-strong cavalry charged at the still-disorganized Jurchen riders, shouting the war cry “Wansheng!” (“Ten Thousand Victories!”). This wave immediately swallowed up many of the Jurchen cavalry who had charged too far forward.

Objectively speaking, the individual skill of the Jurchen cavalry was superior to that of the Yingzhou cavalry. Yet warfare does not rely solely on courage and martial skill; large-scale battles are determined by discipline, equipment, and morale. While the Jurchen were indeed fierce, most of them were still recovering from the earlier explosions. Their horses had not been calmed, and more than two thousand riders were scattered across the wide grasslands in chaotic clusters. Facing the Yingzhou cavalry formed in a tight charging formation under such conditions, the outcome was all too predictable.

Watching his cavalry being knocked from their mounts one by one, Haoge ground his steel teeth in rage. While retreating under the protection of several dozen Goshha guards, he cursed the Yingzhou cavalry through gritted teeth for defeating him twice in succession.

The mournful retreat horn echoed continuously across the battlefield. The surviving Jurchen cavalry were extremely unwilling, but faced with the overwhelming Ming cavalry, they had no choice but to spur their horses back to the main camp.

When Haoge reached the camp and counted his men, his naturally brutal and ruthless temperament finally broke into uncontrollable sobs. This time he had lost over seven hundred elite Jurchen warriors. Unlike before, Dorgon and Yueto miraculously did not curse him. Instead, they frowned at the sight of the Ming army’s formation.

Although they had not witnessed the battle up close due to the distance, scouts along the way had already reported the outcome. They could only feel helpless at such a result. Objectively, Haoge was not fully to blame for this defeat. The credit—or rather, the misfortune—lay with the Yingzhou army’s relentless firearms. Who could have imagined that they would throw “ten-thousand-man enemies” directly in front of their formation, ignoring the risk of blowing themselves up? The explosions were so loud that even humans were startled—let alone the horses.

Horses are sensitive creatures. Excessive noise, fire, or overly violent movements by riders could easily frighten them. On the battlefield, a panicked horse is a nightmare for its rider. In another era, even in the 20th century when cavalry was still used, battle horses were specifically trained to withstand the sounds of explosions and gunfire. Only horses accustomed to such noise could go into battle. But in this early firearms era, the Jurchen naturally had neither the foresight nor the means to train their horses this way. The sudden explosions immediately threw everything into chaos.

Meanwhile, as Haoge suffered, Namuzhong and Bater in the Ming formation watched the sparsely regrouped Mongol cavalry crying out in despair.

After regrouping, Bater sent men to count the remaining troops and discovered that what had once been a six-thousand-strong force had lost nearly half its numbers in less than half an hour. Namuzhong understood the implications all too clearly: this meant that their tribe would barely be able to survive for the next five years. Any tribe of even moderate strength could bully them. For the already weakened Chahar tribe, this was nothing short of a disaster.

Watching Namuzhong and the other princesses weeping, Yue Yang remained silent, offering no words of comfort. From his perspective, the Chahar cavalry had performed abysmally. They had been driven back like sheep by a Jurchen force only half their number. If the Yingzhou army had not timely fired upon the Mongol cavalry attempting to breach the formation, even he might have been in danger. The phrase “friends like pigs” had been vividly proven just now.

Not only Namuzhong, even Siqintu—the princess who had once considered surrendering to the Jurchen—stood silently, dejected. From the recent battle, it was clear that the Jurchen showed no mercy. Their brutal orders driving the Mongol cavalry against the Ming formation were clearly an attempt to annihilate the Chahar tribe. Perhaps this was for the best: from now on, any thought of surrendering to the Jurchen would require careful consideration.

After a while, Namuzhong, her eyes swollen from crying like peaches, looked at Yue Yang with bleary vision and said tearfully, “Lord Yue, what should we do next? The Chahar tribe will follow your orders!”

Yue Yang looked at her with a half-smile before responding, “Great Princess Doro, are you no longer considering submitting to the Jurchen?”

Namuzhong’s expression turned mournful as she spat, “The Jurchen treat the Chahar tribe like pigs and sheep, slaughtering countless of our warriors. How could we ever submit to such cruel butchers?”

Her words silenced all the Chahar nobles and princesses. Clearly, the Jurchen’s actions had completely chilled their hearts.

Yue Yang nodded and relaxed his expression. “Very well. From now on, we are allies fighting side by side. As allies, we will naturally fulfill our duties. Your tribe faces difficulties, and we will assist you.”

Hearing this, Namuzhong and the Chahar leadership exchanged glances. Their previously tense expressions eased. The Chahar tribe had been terrified of the Jurchen; if Yue Yang abandoned them now, they would truly have nowhere to turn. Even if the Jurchen did not attack them, other Mongol tribes would soon seize the opportunity to absorb them. The Chahar could not withstand any more blows.

As Yue Yang spoke, a clear horn sounded from the front. After the previous engagement, Dorgon and Yueto no longer tried to use tricks. They realized that against the well-prepared Yingzhou army, there was no choice but to attack head-on. After all, war ultimately tests strength; strategy alone cannot substitute for power.

Facing Yue Yang, Dorgon and Yueto threw everything they had into the fight. They brought forward shielded carts and heavy shields from the rear supply units and even sent forward the expendable auxiliary troops. These cannon fodder included Korean and Mongol servants and auxiliary soldiers, who, alongside Jurchen armored cavalry, infantry, and the “dead” troops, advanced toward the Ming formation.

Amid countless low, piercing horns, the shield carts slowly approached the Yingzhou army, pushed by the cannon fodder. Behind them followed heavy-shielded auxiliaries and archers.

The Mongol princesses and generals standing beside Yue Yang grew pale at the sight of what seemed like an unstoppable tide of Jurchen troops. Siqintu trembled as she said, “General Yue… the Jurchen intend to annihilate us. What should we do?”

Yue Yang glanced at her meaningfully and said calmly, “Meet force with force. Since the Jurchen wish to die, we will simply send them back.”

Siqintu scowled. “Send them back… easy for you to say… it’s not that simple.”

The ferocity of the Jurchen had long taken root in her heart, and seeing what appeared to be an overwhelming army rushing forward, panic surged immediately.

“Boom…”

As Yue Yang’s words fell, the rumble of cannon fire erupted ahead. The twelve six-pound red barbarian cannons he had positioned at the front of the formation had begun to strike.

A Jia-la Zhangjing urging the auxiliary troops forward immediately saw the Ming infantry formation enveloped in smoke. Round iron balls hurtled toward them, smashing into their ranks, bouncing off the ground, trampling men and horses alike, carving a bloody path through the formation.

The cannons’ power was immense. No matter how brave, a person—or a horse—must bow to such force. The explosions caused chaos among the Jurchen troops. Wounded soldiers and horses screamed in agony, further crushing morale.

The Zhangjing shouted desperately to nearby soldiers, “Do not panic! Hold your ground! Anyone who acts out will be executed!”

By now, the Jurchen were within five hundred paces of the Ming formation—well within cannon range.

The camp commander raised his sword and roared, “Fire!”

The deafening roar of thirty-two tiger-crouch cannons and twelve six-pound red barbarian cannons thundered. Dozens of iron balls of various sizes rained down on the Jurchen, leaving them wailing in terror. Formations that had once been orderly were torn apart by the dense barrage, with bloodied paths opened in every direction. The six-pound red cannons, in particular, fired multiple heavy iron balls each shot, causing devastating casualties—limbs were shattered at a mere graze.

Watching the carnage, Dorgon’s face turned pale. He muttered under his breath, “The Yingzhou army’s firearms… are so powerful?”

Yueto closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the smoke-tinged air, his face twisted with bitterness. This feeling—this mix of blood and bitterness—was one he had experienced under the walls of Hunyuanzhou last year. Today, he smelled it again.