MLMD -Chapter 270 Triumphant News

Just as Abatai was still feeling somewhat dazed, Charqi—who had retreated in defeat—rode up to his side and said anxiously, “Beile, the Ming army is charging over. We must leave at once, or it will be too late!”

Seeing Charqi with his helmet askew and armor in disarray, Abatai shouted sternly, “What are you panicking for? We still have more than two thousand of our own troops that haven’t moved yet. If the Ming dogs come, all the better—let them see how formidable the warriors of our Bordered Blue Banner truly are!”

“It’s useless, Beile! There are far too many Ming troops—we can’t hold them back!” Seeing that Abatai was still unwilling to accept defeat, and with the Ming army already closing in, Charqi grew desperate. He immediately barked at the goshiha beside Abatai, “What are you dogs still standing around for? Escort the Beile back to the main formation at once! If you delay any longer, it will be too late!”

The goshiha around Abatai also knew the urgency of the situation. More than a dozen riders surged forward, forcibly surrounding Abatai and carrying him off in retreat toward Ajige’s main formation. Seeing that Abatai had withdrawn, Charqi and Chang’adai exchanged a glance and gave each other a bitter, wry smile. Then, leading the remaining two thousand battered troops, they turned to face the pursuing enemy…

Abatai’s crushing defeat not only delighted Lu Xiangsheng and the Ming commanders, but also threw Ajige into a state of deep anxiety.

Ever since the Jurchens first rose in arms, they had consistently defeated the Ming with fewer troops, suffering very few setbacks. In recent years, although they had taken quite a few losses at Yue Yang’s hands, to Ajige these were things he had only heard about. At times, he had even secretly mocked Dorgon and Yueto for their incompetence. But now that it had happened to him personally, Ajige was truly shaken.

Admittedly, when he sent Abatai into battle, he had harbored the intention of letting him suffer a setback—to curb his arrogance—but he had never intended to use Abatai to drastically weaken the strength of the Bordered Blue Banner. After all, the Qing population was limited; every man lost was one less, unlike the Ming, who could replenish tens or even hundreds of thousands of casualties so long as they had silver. This concerned the very survival of the Manchus—Ajige would never joke about such matters. Moreover, no matter how little Hong Taiji favored Abatai, he was still Nurhaci’s son, a Beile of the Great Qing. If Abatai were to die here, Ajige, as the overall commander of this expedition, would certainly bear unbearable responsibility.

Seeing Abatai’s troops retreat in disorder, Ajige immediately shouted without hesitation, “Yanguli! Take five thousand warriors at once and bring Rao-yu Beile back safely. Nothing must happen to him!”

“Yes!”

Yanguli, a veteran of countless battles, naturally understood the urgency. After replying, he immediately departed. Watching Yanguli’s departing figure, Ajige’s brow furrowed tightly. Just two days ago, he had still believed that this southern invasion was proceeding smoothly. Not only had they successfully taken the important stronghold of Changping, but they had also seized more than a hundred thousand people, along with vast quantities of grain, silver, and valuables. Just as he was brimming with confidence and preparing to press toward the Ming capital region and advance into Shandong, he was struck with a sudden, crushing blow here in the insignificant place of Liangxiang—so hard that he was seeing stars.

“Yue Yang again!” Ajige ground his teeth as he stared at the Ming troops ahead, who still stood firm like pillars of stone.

Ajige’s expression was not lost on Enggertu and Buyandai standing nearby. Their hearts felt as refreshed as if they had downed a big bowl of iced sour plum soup in the height of summer. Especially Buyandai—when Ajige had earlier ordered his execution, he had been terrified out of his wits. Thankfully, Yanguli had stepped forward to plead for him, saving his life. Now, seeing Abatai being beaten so miserably by the Ming, Buyandai felt an indescribable sense of satisfaction. He silently sneered to himself, So you look down on us Mongol warriors? Aren’t you always boasting of your bravery? Then why are you getting beaten so badly now? Let’s see if you still dare to show off in front of me after this.

Yet even as he reveled in schadenfreude, Buyandai also warned himself inwardly: if he ever encountered this Ming army again, he must flee as far as possible and never engage them head-on. Abatai’s fate today was a clear lesson.

After several arduous struggles, Abatai finally led the Bordered Blue Banner back to the main formation. Two quarters of an hour later, Enggertu and Buyandai also returned in succession with the remaining remnants of the banner. When Abatai counted his forces, he was stunned. In that battle, of his three thousand cavalry, only a little over a thousand had returned. Of his two thousand archers, more than thirteen hundred were lost. Of his two thousand spearmen, fewer than eight hundred remained. In other words, the elite core of his Bordered Blue Banner had been virtually crippled.

Those troops were the very essence of the banner. And after this battle, upon seeing the banners of Yue Yang’s Ming forces, these men would likely flee at the mere sound of the wind. Fortunately, Yanguli had arrived in time to drive off the pursuing Ming cavalry. Moreover, his banner still had eleven hundred heavy cavalry and his two hundred Bayara personal guards who had not joined the battle—otherwise the losses would have been even more catastrophic.

“Fourteenth Brother, Seventh Brother truly regrets not listening to your words!”

Looking at his grievous losses, Abatai beat his chest and stamped his feet, his heart bleeding.

While Abatai was heartbroken, Ajige beside him was equally grim, his face dark as water, silent and unmoving. He had witnessed the clash clearly. This Yingzhou Army was indeed as fierce as Dorgon and Yueto had described. But now Ajige believed that even they had underestimated Yue Yang and his forces—the reality was far more terrifying than they had said.

“Prince of the Second Rank, what should we do? Are we still going to fight?” Yanguli asked in a low voice, glancing at the five to six thousand Ming cavalry still circling provocatively before their lines.

Ajige clenched his teeth, staring fixedly at the Ming troops flaunting their might ahead. From the banners, he had already identified them: three Ming formations—one under Hu Dawei of the Xuan-Da Garrison, and the other two under Wu Sangui and He Kegang of the Liaodong Garrison. Ajige had heard of all three. In normal times, he would not have taken them seriously; with three thousand elite cavalry, he was confident he could smash them. Yet today, with seventy to eighty thousand troops under his command, he found himself unable to retaliate even as the enemy pressed right up to his doorstep. This was an immense humiliation.

Ajige’s face turned ashen as he stared forward. Several times he felt the urge to command the entire army to charge, to annihilate the enemy in one decisive assault. Truth be told, if losses were disregarded, he was confident he could wipe out the Ming troops ahead, including Yue Yang’s Yingzhou Army. After all, with seventy or eighty thousand men surging forward together, sheer attrition alone could grind them down.

But he dared not. The Qing population was simply too small. At most, the entire Qing numbered only six or seven hundred thousand people. Even with universal conscription, the total military strength amounted to merely one hundred seventy to one hundred eighty thousand. And this force still had to control the vast regions of Liaodong, Mongolia, and parts of Korea.

The troops he had brought on this southern campaign already accounted for half of the Qing’s total military strength. If anything were to go wrong here, it would be a near-catastrophic disaster for the Qing, with consequences beyond imagining. A chain reaction could easily follow—restive Koreans, Mongols, and the Ming forces of the Liaodong Garrison might all pounce at once. Just thinking about it sent a chill down Ajige’s spine.

Meanwhile, within the Ming main formation, the generals beside Lu Xiangsheng—Yang Guozhu, Wang Pu, Tang Tong, and the various Liaodong commanders—were all drawing sharp breaths.

Lu Xiangsheng’s chief planner and aide, Yang Tinglin, stood behind him, murmuring, “Yue Yang’s Yingzhou Army is truly this fierce… its reputation is indeed well deserved.”

Wang Pu stood agape, so stunned that he did not even notice the saliva dripping from his mouth. He had watched the battle closely and knew with certainty that if it had been his own troops, fighting the Qing under the same conditions, they would have collapsed within half an hour.

Yang Guozhu was also deep in thought. As the commander-in-chief of the Xuan-Da Garrison, Yue Yang, the Northern Route vice commander, was nominally under his authority. But Yue Yang was simply too formidable—this forced Yang Guozhu to reconsider how he should deal with him in the future.

As for the Liaodong commanders, they too were dumbfounded. Being from Liaodong, they had the most experience fighting the Qing. Never had they seen victory come so easily—especially against the Qing’s regular elite forces.

Lu Xiangsheng, for his part, was overflowing with excitement. From this battle, he saw hope—hope of victory. At that moment, he also noticed the seven to eight thousand cavalry under Wu Sangui and the others circling before the Qing lines, seeking an opening. His blood surged. Drawing his treasured sword, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Soldiers! Today we wash away our past humiliation! All forces, advance at once in pursuit—kill!”

…

On the twenty-fifth day of the sixth month in the ninth year of Chongzhen, the Qing army of one hundred thousand led by Ajige clashed with the Ming forces under Lu Xiangsheng at Liangxiang in a battle of unprecedented scale. Both sides suffered heavy losses. At the cost of more than eight thousand casualties, Lu Xiangsheng’s army annihilated over fifteen thousand Qing troops, achieving a historic victory.

Ajige fought while retreating, withdrawing all the way to Changping. Lu Xiangsheng pursued relentlessly, confronting the eighty thousand Qing troops there with more than fifty thousand of his own. Several more engagements followed, with victories and defeats on both sides.

In the days that followed, Ming reinforcements arrived one after another. By June 30, the Ming army had grown to more than 130,000 men, surpassing the Qing in numbers.

Seeing that he could no longer sustain the campaign, Ajige withdrew his forces from Changping under cover of night on July 1, retreating toward the Bohai region. He abandoned most of his baggage, along with the population and wealth he had seized.

On the sixth day of the seventh month in the ninth year of Chongzhen, a cavalryman with a small red flag stuck into his back galloped through the streets of Beijing. Racing all the way to Yongding Gate, he shouted himself hoarse, “Great victory! A great victory at Changping! Lord Lu has led the army to a great triumph at Changping, driving the Jian slaves out of the passes—countless heads taken!”

In the Warm Fragrance Pavilion, Chongzhen gazed at the report of victory in his hands, and at last, hot tears streamed from his eyes…