MLMD -Chapter 265 The Brave Wang Pu

“Woo… woooo—”

The stirring blare of horns echoed ceaselessly through the sky. Across the vast, open plain, columns of knights clad in bright red or red-trimmed white armor, their helmets topped with sharp, lightning-rod-like spikes, galloped at full speed. Their charging horses kicked up rolling clouds of dust.

Behind them, an even larger mass of cavalry followed like a dark tide, surging toward Liangxiang like a gathering storm cloud.

This was an enormous army, stretching for several miles from front to back. Describing it as “covering the sky and blotting out the sun” was no exaggeration. Judging by the command banners alone, there were more than a dozen generals present.

At this moment, the commander of the Qing army’s southern invasion, Prince Ajige of the Doroi rank, sat astride a white steed. Surrounded by a large group of generals and guards, he stood atop a hill, gazing toward the Ming army’s encampment in the distance.

They could already see that the Ming camp was in motion as well—troops swarming everywhere as countless soldiers assembled. Behind the palisades stood dense ranks of archers, ready to strike at any enemy who approached.

Ajige, thirty-one years old, was in the prime of his life. He wore a short beard beneath his chin. Unlike most Manchus with broad, round faces, Ajige had a square face, a high nose bridge, dark complexion, and eyes filled with aggressive intensity, giving him an air of ambition.

As the twelfth son of Nurhaci, Ajige had earned many military merits. Though he did not carry a title like Dorgon’s “Mergen Daicing” (“wise and astute”), no one in the Qing high command dared to underestimate him. Even Hong Taiji valued this half-brother highly—otherwise Ajige would not have been chosen to command this southern campaign.

Pointing at the Ming camp in the distance, Ajige said to those behind him, “Look there. It’s said the Ming commander is named Lu Xiangsheng. He is one of Ming’s foremost generals, on par with Hong Chengchou, Sun Chengzong, and Sun Chuanting. If we can defeat him—or even kill him—Ming will lose another great commander, and we will be rid of a major enemy.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a loud, brash voice rang out beside him: “Why should the Prince worry? Ming troops are all worthless. We need only surround them with our army and annihilate them one by one. I don’t believe Lu Xiangsheng can escape!”

Everyone turned to see that the speaker was Engtu, the Gushan Beile of the Mongol Plain Red Banner. Dressed in traditional Mongolian leather armor, Engtu was among the earliest to submit to the Qing and was trusted by Hong Taiji, which earned him the post of banner lord. This time, he and Buyandai of the Bordered Red Banner had volunteered to act as vanguard, plundering much population and wealth along the way—making Engtu particularly eager.

However, his words displeased some. One man stepped forward and said calmly, “Since Banner Lord Engtu is so confident, why not have you lead your men to attack the Ming camp? We will remain here and await your good news. What do you say?”

“Uh… this…” Engtu was momentarily dumbfounded. No matter how arrogant he was, he did not believe his own strength alone was enough to storm the Ming camp.

After glancing at the speaker and then at the others, he hesitated and said, “Prince Raoyu, my force numbers fewer than ten thousand. How could we besiege the Ming camp? The Ming army isn’t made of clay—this seems improper.”

The speaker was Prince Raoyu Abatai. Snorting coldly, Abatai replied, “So you know the Ming aren’t made of clay. Yet at such a moment between two armies, you spout such arrogant nonsense. If the entire army took your words seriously, wouldn’t that lead us into disaster?”

“I… I was just…” Engtu stammered, unable to finish. He wanted to say that he had merely been flattering the prince, but the words stuck in his throat. He was already embarrassed enough—if he said that aloud, how could he ever show his face again?

“That’s enough,” Ajige finally spoke up. “Engtu merely spoke without thinking. Seventh Brother, don’t be too hard on him.”

After all, Engtu had been trying to flatter him. Everyone could just take it lightly—why pursue it so relentlessly? Was there dissatisfaction with him, the commander?

Abatai frowned, about to speak, when an elderly general who had stood silently beside Ajige stepped forward to smooth things over. The man was over sixty, with white hair and beard and a face lined with deep wrinkles, yet his spirit was vigorous.

“Prince Doroi, Prince Raoyu,” he said, “arguing over this is pointless. The Ming army has already left its camp to engage us. We should prepare as well.”

This elder was Yang Guli, one of the earliest followers of Nurhaci, now holding a supernumerary rank. Highly respected among the Qing elite and one of the main commanders of this campaign, his words carried weight, and Abatai gave him face.

With a cold snort, Abatai pulled a single-tube telescope from his belt pouch and began to observe the Ming movements. Before he could finish, a thunderous cannon blast erupted from the front.

With the boom of artillery, the Ming camp gates swung open. Units of cavalry wearing bright red cloaks charged out first, immediately rushing toward the Qing scouts roaming outside the camp. The Ming cavalry numbered several hundred, while the Qing scouts were only a few dozen; seeing the Ming force surge forth, they naturally avoided a head-on clash and quickly withdrew.

Then more and more Ming cavalry poured out, spreading to both sides after leaving the gate and forming a goose-wing formation. Soon after, infantry began to appear. Their movements were swift—within ten minutes, several thousand infantrymen had taken position at the front, shields raised. Behind them, even more troops streamed out.

Armor and banners filled the field: fiery red lacquered armor, fluttering plumes, dense standards, forests of long spears that seemed to pierce the clouds. An unstoppable momentum surged outward.

This sudden action startled the Qing generals observing the camp. Since when had the Ming gained such courage—not only daring to meet them in battle, but even taking the initiative to attack?

All eyes turned to Ajige. After a brief moment of contemplation, he said,
“Engtu, Buyandai—the Ming army has left its camp. Each of you lead your men and engage them at once. I don’t ask that you defeat them immediately; just take advantage of the fact that they haven’t fully formed up and break their formation. Can you do it?”

Seeing the Ming banners waving outside, Engtu felt an overwhelming urge to slap himself. Why had he flattered so recklessly? Now he had flattered himself straight into trouble. Buyandai glared at him as well, clearly blaming him for the foolish talk.

Unwilling though they were, both understood that once you became someone’s subordinate, you had to accept a subordinate’s fate. If subordinates didn’t act as cannon fodder, were they expecting their masters to do so?

Gritting their teeth, the two saluted Ajige and spurred their horses back to their ranks. Soon, amid blaring horns, over ten thousand Mongol cavalry began to peel away from the main formation and move forward.

At this time, the Ming army had not yet fully completed its formation. Seeing more than ten thousand Mongol cavalry advancing, the Ming commanders were momentarily stunned and turned their gaze toward Lu Xiangsheng and Yue Yang.

Yue Yang laughed loudly and was just about to issue an order when Wang Pu stepped forward. Saluting Lu Xiangsheng, he said, “Governor-General, the enemy coming out are all cavalry. Originally, I would not wish to steal Deputy Commander Yue’s thunder, but from what I see, those troops are Mongol Eight Banners, while Deputy Commander Yue’s forces are mostly infantry. Though unworthy, I am willing to lead the sons of Datong into battle—slay their generals, seize their banners, and bring back the enemy chieftain’s head to report our victory!”

“Excellent!” Lu Xiangsheng shouted, and the surrounding generals echoed him.

With morale so high, Lu Xiangsheng would not dampen it. He praised loudly, “Good! I will command from the center and cover you. Fight bravely and raise the prestige of Great Ming!”

Yue Yang glanced at Wang Pu in surprise. This historically infamous “general who fled” looked rather manly now. Could it be that the history books were wrong?

“I go!” Wang Pu flicked the red tassel on his helmet and spurred his horse forward, kicking up dust as he rode to the front of his cavalry. Reining in sharply, his horse reared with a shrill neigh. With spear in one hand and reins in the other, he looked like the very image of a charging hero—Yue Yang reckoned that in later times, this pose alone would have captivated countless young girls.

Riding before his troops, Wang Pu shouted, “Brothers! The barbarians have violated our borders, killed our brothers, and abducted our sisters! We must repay the court and slay the enemy! Do you have confidence?”

The cavalry raised their weapons and roared, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Good!” Wang Pu shouted again as he rode, “The Datong Army!”

“Mighty!”

“The Datong Army!”

“Mighty!”

A forest of long spears rose, like a field of sharp blades. The morale of the Datong cavalry soared to its peak.

Wang Pu then bellowed with all his strength, “Brothers—follow me and kill the slaves!”

“Victory!”

“Victory!”

Over three thousand Datong cavalry charged forward behind Wang Pu. Thousands of hooves thundered against the ground like rolling thunder, the earth itself seeming to tremble. From Yue Yang’s vantage point, the Datong cavalry advanced in a tight formation, Wang Pu at its core, crashing toward the enemy—a sight of one rider charging with ten thousand following, raw and heroic beyond words.

Watching this, Yue Yang silently reminded himself that history books were not necessarily truthful, nor were internet encyclopedias necessarily reliable. From what he saw now, Wang Pu bore no resemblance to the coward who fled in panic as described in history. Though he might like showing off and loved money, at this moment, his actions were worthy of Great Ming and of the court.

Still, however valiant Wang Pu’s charge, Yue Yang could not let him fight alone. Stepping forward, he said to Lu Xiangsheng, “Governor-General, I am willing to lead troops forward as support for General Wang!”

Lu Xiangsheng nodded. “Very well. Lead your infantry forward. If General Wang needs help, you may assist.”

“My thanks, Governor-General!” Yue Yang saluted heavily and galloped to the front of the Yingzhou Army.

The Yingzhou troops were already formed—five thousand infantry in black-gray full armor, arranged in a massive, orderly square, each soldier holding a Minié-style musket, standing silently as they awaited orders.

Yue Yang gave brief instructions to the signalers. Two small flags were waved, and soon a high, steady drumbeat rolled through the formation.

“Boom, boom… boom-boom-boom… boom-boom-boom-boom-boom…”

“All troops—muskets to shoulder!”

“Shua—shua—shua—”

With the drums, a crisp sound rang out as five thousand soldiers simultaneously lifted their muskets from the ground to their shoulders.

Yue Yang drew his long saber and shouted, “Yingzhou Army—advance!”

“Clatter… clatter-clatter-clatter…”

No stirring speeches, no fiery exhortations. Five thousand black-armored infantry advanced in perfect silence, their steps even and resolute, the only sound their synchronized footfalls.

Though lacking the fiery passion of Wang Pu’s cavalry charge or the overwhelming thunder of advancing horsemen, this silent march was even more startling to Lu Xiangsheng and the others.

These seasoned veterans understood military doctrine well. Wang Pu’s pre-battle shouting had been to boost morale, a necessary step before a great clash. But Yue Yang’s approach was extraordinary—thousands advancing in silence, responding only to commands and footsteps. This meant absolute confidence and discipline. His army no longer needed anything extra.

The thunder of hooves continued. Wang Pu’s cavalry had already collided with the enemy, and fierce fighting erupted. Though the Mongol cavalry numbered over ten thousand, the battlefield could not accommodate them all at once. Engtu could only commit several thousand at a time against Wang Pu’s Datong cavalry, and for a time the battle was locked in stalemate.

Meanwhile, Yue Yang steadily advanced his five thousand infantry, finally forming five large squares behind Wang Pu’s position, while Yingzhou’s three thousand cavalry protected the flanks.

“Hurry! Faster! Anyone who drags his feet—I won’t spare him!” After the formations were set, Zhao Yongxin, the thousand-household commander of the artillery battalion, directed the gunners to haul their cannons forward and deploy them. Yingzhou’s artillery consisted of newly equipped field guns made with modern techniques and steel. Compared to contemporary cannons, they were harder, cooled faster, and were much lighter—a six-pounder weighed only five or six hundred jin. With wheels attached, a single draft horse or a few gunners could drag one anywhere, ideal for mobile warfare.

“Kill—!”

Wang Pu swung his spear, impaling a Mongol rider and knocking him from his horse. Twisting the shaft, he smashed the spear butt into the face of another enemy trying to take advantage from the side. With a sharp crack, the rider screamed and fell, only to be trampled into pulp by the hooves behind. Wang Pu’s personal guards shielded him closely, ensuring he had no worries from the rear.

Around him, thousands of Datong cavalry clashed with Mongol riders—metal crashing against metal, horses screaming, warriors roaring. Men fell from their saddles every moment; life was worth less than a coin.

After two quarters of an hour, relying on high morale and favorable terrain, Wang Pu’s force actually drove the Mongol cavalry back step by step. The sight greatly boosted Ming morale, and some junior officers even urged Lu Xiangsheng to press the advantage and rout the Qing army in one stroke.

But Lu Xiangsheng refused. He and the surrounding generals saw clearly that those fighting Datong were only Mongol Eight Banner cavalry—mere cannon fodder used to probe Ming strength and wear them down. The real main force still waited behind. Charging in rashly would only fall into the enemy’s trap.

On the Qing side, Ajige, Abatai, and Yang Guli observed calmly. Though Engtu and Buyandai were at a disadvantage, they were not worried. Their forces outnumbered the Datong cavalry several times over. With unfavorable terrain, they were temporarily on the back foot—but once the enemy tired, those few thousand cavalry would inevitably collapse.

As expected, after three quarters of an hour of fierce fighting, Wang Pu’s Datong troops began to tire. Though they had inflicted heavy casualties, their own losses were significant, and the Mongols could rotate fresh troops in. Realizing this, Wang Pu began to command a fighting withdrawal toward the rear.

As he pulled back, he saw the Yingzhou Army standing in perfect order behind them. Overjoyed, he shouted, “Brothers! The Yingzhou brothers are here to cover us! Withdraw to both sides of the formation—do not charge into the center!”

It had to be said—Wang Pu’s adaptability was solid. Ming military law stipulated that anyone who barged into a formation without orders would be executed on the spot. This rule existed precisely to prevent routed troops from crashing into their own formations and throwing everything into chaos.