MLMD -Chapter 230 The Tormented Dorgon

Not to mention the bitter-faced Yueto, Dorgon, seeing the combat style of the Yingzhou army for the first time, was completely dumbfounded.

Facing the Yingzhou army’s artillery, the Later Jin troops, without cannon cover, had only one option: to accelerate their advance. Once they reached the enemy lines, they would no longer have to endure the bombardment.

Under the strict orders of their officers, a large number of auxiliary soldiers ran behind the shield carts to help push them forward, while others carrying heavy shields struggled to lift them and run. They all understood that the longer they lingered here, the heavier the enemy’s attacks would be; the only way to survive was to charge forward as fast as possible.

The Later Jin soldiers were certainly brave. Even as iron balls whistled overhead and the screams of their comrades rang out beside them, the harsh military laws and the officers’ shouts forced them to grit their teeth and keep advancing.

But their nightmare had not ended. When they reached about two to three hundred paces from the Ming formation, a loud shout rang out from within the ranks, followed by bursts of gunfire accompanied by white smoke. Lead bullets flew at them like lightning.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

The rain of lead bullets hammered the shield carts and heavy shields with a constant clatter. At this range, although the bullets could not yet penetrate the shields, their tremendous impact sent the shield-bearers staggering, many feeling their arms go numb. Some unlucky soldiers without proper cover were struck directly; the powerful projectiles tore them apart, leaving them mangled.

Dorgon, known among the Jurchens for his farsightedness, had always been considered one of the most strategic minds among Nurhaci’s sons—rivaling even Huang Taiji. From the moment he first saw the Minié-style firearms in Yue Yang’s unit, he recognized that such weapons could one day pose a serious threat to the Jurchens. His perception was sharp.

However, though Dorgon had strategic insight, he was still a man of his time and had his limitations. He had never imagined that when these firearms were concentrated and used en masse, they would unleash such devastating power. The attack formations employed by the Later Jin army were the result of decades of combat experience honed by the Jurchens.

Objectively speaking, the Later Jin leadership paid considerable attention to artillery, as seen in Huang Taiji’s treatment of defectors like Kong Youde and Geng Zhongming. But with firearms, their attitude was different. In previous battles with the Ming, although the Ming had large numbers of firearms, they were short-ranged, weak in power, and poorly manufactured; gunmen often injured themselves while firing. Eventually, the Ming even abandoned firearms in favor of less risky methods. When the Jurchens spoke of Ming firearms, it was always with disdain.

Dorgon, being foresighted, recognized that Minié-style guns were powerful and would one day shine on the battlefield—but even he could not have foreseen the destructive force of hundreds or thousands of them firing simultaneously.

Watching his soldiers fall relentlessly, Dorgon sighed to Yueto, “I never expected Yingzhou’s firearms to be this lethal. Yueto… your defeat last year was truly not undeserved!”

Yueto said nothing but his eyes grew moist. The defeat at Hunyuan City last year had cost the Bordered Red Banner thousands of elite soldiers. For months afterward, he had faced doubts from the Later Jin high command. Were it not for Huang Taiji’s favorable view, Yueto might have long since been stripped of his position.

Dorgon studied the battlefield for a while longer, his brows knitting ever tighter. Although the Later Jin troops had advanced another hundred steps behind the shields, the closer they got, the deadlier the Ming firearms became. Many heavy shields were on the verge of shattering, and once they broke, the Ming gunners would tear the archers and infantry following them to pieces like sharks sensing blood.

“We can’t continue like this. We cannot fight this battle!” Dorgon muttered, his face darkening. It wasn’t just him; even the notoriously fierce Haoge looked as wilted as a frost-bitten eggplant. The firepower of the Yingzhou army had exceeded all their expectations. Compared to this force, the supposedly elite Guanning Cavalry stationed near Shanhaiguan and the Liaodong troops were laughable.

Yueto’s expression was equally bitter. He had thought this expedition against the Chahar tribe would be an easy assignment. With their leader Lindan Khan dead, the remaining group of widows and orphans would be no challenge. Everyone in the Later Jin command had assumed the same. That was why Huang Taiji unusually sent three high-ranking figures, each with their own agenda—not out of concern for the Chahar, but purely to claim credit.

Huang Taiji sent Haoge to polish his reputation, himself to redeem past failures, and Dorgon to claim glory. After all, no one expected a few thousand soldiers led by widows could have any real combat strength. Reality, however, slapped them hard. The Yingzhou army had appeared unexpectedly, engaging them with unprecedented ferocity.

At the Ming front, Zhao Yongxin, commander of the artillery battalion, stood tall, wielding a saber, shouting orders as he walked: “Quick, clean the barrels, load the powder!”

Following his command, the gunners got to work. One inserted a long rod wrapped with cloth into the barrel to clean it thoroughly. Two others rushed over—one tore open a powder bag and tamped it into the barrel with a wooden stick, while the other placed a six-pound shot inside. Finally, a slow match was lit, and reports of “ready” rang out all around.

Seeing over twenty red-barrel cannons loaded, Zhao raised his saber and bellowed, “Fire!”

A gunner ignited the match, and the others quickly retreated a dozen paces behind the cannon.

“Boom!”

A massive explosion, smoke billowing, and the heavy cannon soared through the air before crashing down. Another gunner ran forward to adjust the aim and secure it on the carriage.

As the projectiles whistled toward the Later Jin army, Zhao Yongxin’s face broke into a satisfied smile. Formerly an artillery captain in the frontier army, he had deserted out of disgust for Ming military corruption. Later, Yue Yang recruited him, and he happily resumed his old work.

In Yue Yang’s army, Zhao found the cannons far superior to typical Ming ordnance. Traditionally, bronze was the best material for cannons, but it was costly, so most were cast in iron. Iron cannons, however, had many flaws. Made from pig iron, the barrels were often rough and slow to load. Moreover, iron cannons were extremely heavy—for example, a twelve-pound red-barrel cannon could weigh over 4,000 jin, almost impossible to move with an army. Even six-pound cannons often weighed around 3,000 jin, a huge burden for troops needing rapid artillery support.

In contrast, the Yingzhou army’s cannons were made of wrought iron. A six-pound red-barrel cannon weighed less than 800 jin and could be easily moved with two horses. For Zhao, accustomed to massive, cumbersome artillery, this was a revelation. These wrought-iron cannons were lighter, safer, had wider barrels, could fire larger projectiles, and had greater range.

“Load quickly, prepare to fire!”

Zhao and his gunners rained shot upon the advancing Later Jin. The forward troops were in misfortune: soldiers were turned into bloody mist by the shells, and shield carts were smashed to pieces. Dorgon and Yueto watched helplessly as their forces suffered horrendous losses.

Several times, Dorgon wanted to order a retreat. But seeing his warriors closing in on the Ming formation, he swallowed the words back.

“Once we reach the enemy lines, our warriors can teach these cowardly Han a lesson with their strong bows,” he told himself over and over.

Finally, time passed. When the resilient Later Jin soldiers reached about seventy paces from the Ming lines, even steady Dorgon couldn’t help smiling. At last, they could punish the damned Ming.

At this distance, the shield carts that had braved the frontline came to a halt—about thirty in total. Archers holding strong bows leapt down behind the carts, ready to give the Ming a severe lesson.

But events unfolded contrary to the Jurchens’ expectations. Just as the archers prepared to draw, a dark mass erupted from the Ming formation, falling like rain across the Later Jin attack line.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

Explosions ripped through the Later Jin ranks. Black smoke and debris flew in all directions, propelled by tremendous kinetic energy, easily shredding the cotton armor of the archers and tearing their fragile bodies apart.