MLMD -Chapter 323 War Isn’t About Who Has the Louder Voice

“How dare this brat bully me like this?”

A roar echoed from the governor’s mansion in Datong—it was the voice of Hong Chengchou. In front of him lay a petition for battle sent by Yue Yang.

The petition had just been delivered. It was brief, simply stating that the Qing had sent forces to attack the Ming vassal Chahar tribe, and that the tribe had sent for aid. Yue Yang was mobilizing troops to assist them and was formally notifying the governor.

Hong Chengchou, a proud man, could not tolerate such a move. Although Yue Yang had been made a marquis, his army should, in theory, still answer to Hong’s command. Outraged, he immediately barked:

“Antong, send someone to tell Yue Yang at once: he is forbidden to act recklessly! His army must not leave the Northern Route without my order. Anyone who disobeys will be executed!”

“Master, it’s too late!” Hong Antong, his loyal aide, saw the situation more clearly. “Yue Yang already set out the day before yesterday. He may have reached Gaoshanwei by now, and could cross the border tomorrow. There’s no stopping him!”

Hong Chengchou, beside himself with anger, blurted out: “Then bring him back! How else am I to maintain my authority?”

Hong Antong could only smile bitterly. Yue Yang now had power and backing even the emperor could not curb. A provincial governor talking about authority to him? It was a joke.

After venting, Hong Chengchou finally had to accept the reality that he could not control Yue Yang. He slumped into his seat and gritted his teeth:

“Antong, go investigate—how many troops did Yue Yang take with him? And how many remain guarding the Northern Route?”

Having served Hong for years, Antong knew his master’s thoughts well. He replied casually:

“Master, I already know some details without investigation. Yuehou brought 28,000 battle-ready troops, and 5,000 support soldiers. The Northern Route now has just over 5,000 under the command of the newly appointed guerrilla general, Yue Shunbao.”

Hong Chengchou froze. “How did you find that out?”

“Do we need to investigate? The news has already spread throughout Datong. Yuehou is said to be marching beyond the border for the court and for the realm. Just a few days ago, a new publication appeared—the Daming Times—which explained the reason for Yuehou’s mobilization clearly. The people have already started calling his troops the ‘Yue Family Army.’”

“The Yue Family Army?”

Hong Chengchou’s eyes narrowed. In Chinese history, only one army had ever been called the Yue Family Army—the one Yue Fei led during the Southern Song to resist the Jin. Its discipline and training were legendary: “freeze to death, don’t dismantle houses; starve to death, don’t plunder.” The Jin generals had said: “It is easier to shake a mountain than to shake the Yue Family Army.” And the Manchus were descendants of the Jin.

“Yue Family Army… so you really think of yourself as the Manchu killer. Too bad—you’ll never be Yue Fei,” Hong Chengchou muttered, his expression hardening. He turned to Antong:

“Antong, can we deal with that Yue Shunbao…”

“No, Master.” Antong shook his head before Hong could finish. “This man comes from three generations of the Yue family. His father served as the Yue family steward for over twenty years, and he was Yue Yang’s former servant. Their loyalty runs deep—they will never betray Yue Yang.”

Antong dismissed the thought immediately, saving his master from chasing an impossible plan.

“Is there really no way to deal with Yue Yang?” Hong Antong felt troubled. Over the past year, he had learned from Yue Yang, reclaiming wastelands, gathering refugees, recruiting the strongest, and building an army of over 10,000. Yet he knew his troops were only enough against local bandits—not to stand against the Qing army. And now, seeing Yue Yang mobilize his full force beyond the border, Antong felt uneasy.

Indeed, other armies existed in Xuanda, like those under Yang Guozhu, Hu Dawei, Wang Pu, and Tang Tong—over 30,000 combined—but these veteran commanders were not fully reliable in battle. Hong Chengchou couldn’t command them directly. He envied his predecessor, Lu Xiangsheng, for somehow uniting these stubborn troops and making them follow orders to the letter.

Seeing Hong Chengchou lost in thought, Antong slowly stepped out, leaving his master to his contemplation…

No matter Hong Chengchou’s anger or reluctance, Yue Yang led his army beyond the border. This was the first large-scale expedition outside the border since the Tumu Fortress disaster, drawing the attention of the entire Ming court. Victory would elevate Yue Yang’s prestige to unprecedented heights; defeat would invite punishment from both Emperor Chongzhen and Emperor Huang Taiji. For Yue Yang, this was a war with no room for failure.

March 18, 10th Year of Chongzhen, Border Grasslands

Yue Yang rode along, gazing at the endless desolate plains. He asked Hu Laosan beside him:

“Do you remember the first time we went beyond the border with Li Yuan from Yingzhou Prefecture?”

“Of course I do!” Hu Laosan smiled, recalling: “You were only a regimental commander then, with barely a thousand troops. I was a small leader. We brought a few hundred carts from Datong, traveling nearly a month to reach the Khorchin tribe. We fought the Jurchen’s Da Beile Daisan and even captured the most beautiful lark from the grasslands, scaring everyone half to death.”

“Ha ha ha…” Yue Yang laughed. Life’s opportunities were strange—who would have thought that a nearly-beaten scholar could become a regional warlord?

But memories had to wait. In the marching column, Yue Yang suddenly heard static from a large radio on a messenger’s shoulder. Soon, the messenger reported:

“Your Lordship, the night reconnaissance found that our army is less than fifty miles from Chifeng. Qing scouts have been spotted ahead!”

Yue Yang asked: “What about the Chahar forces? Any contact?”

The messenger replied: “They are stationed around Chifeng, fortified in a mountain camp, but are now completely surrounded by the Qing.”

“I see…” Yue Yang pondered, dismissing the messenger. He turned to Hu Laosan:

“Ride to the front and take command. Tell the vanguard to keep moving, stopping ten miles from the Qing forces.”

“Yes!” Hu Laosan saluted and rode off. Soon, the sound of clarions echoed, and soldiers’ relaxed expressions hardened—they had sighted the enemy.

Looking over the endless troops, Yue Yang felt a surge of pride. He had prepared extensively for this battle, even issuing radios to the troops despite past fears of panic or rumors. With the radios, these concerns proved unfounded; the soldiers were accustomed to their commander’s extraordinary measures.

At the same time, Qing scouts relayed the Ming troop movements back to the Qing camp.

On a flat plain less than thirty miles from Chifeng, the Eight Banners’ flags flew—yellow, yellow-with-red, white, blue, etc.—all gathered under one large yellow banner embroidered with a five-clawed golden dragon, symbolizing the emperor. Since Huang Taiji had renamed the state Great Qing, many Qing customs mirrored Ming practices.

A massive army of over 100,000 encircled the Chifeng region. In the center of their ring lay a valley, surrounded by three mountains, leaving a flat strip of land over ten miles wide. A fortified camp blocked this plain entirely.

At the Qing camp, a massive tent covered over 100 square meters. Huang Taiji sat inside in a yellow dragon robe, eyes half-closed. Around him were dozens of armored generals, and closest to him sat his eldest son Hooge and Da Beile Daisan, with Dorgon, Dodo, Yueto, Abatai, Dudu, Oboi, and other key ministers behind them. The emperor had brought all his assets and capable generals.

No one spoke until a loud voice called outside:

“Report!”

A scout carrying a red-and-yellow flag entered, reporting:

“Great Khan, thirty miles out, we have sighted Ming troops. Recon shows it is the Yingzhou army, approximately 30,000 strong!”

Huang Taiji opened his eyes, a sharp, cold light radiating from them.

“Is Yue Yang among them?” he asked.

The scout replied: “I do not know, but I saw a large flag with the character ‘Yue.’ He should be among them.”

“Then it is certain!” Huang Taiji exclaimed with delight. “He finally came! This is Heaven’s blessing for Great Qing!”

“Congratulations, Great Khan!” the generals echoed.

Daisan bowed: “Great Khan, Yue Yang must have expended all efforts to arrive in Chifeng within half a month. His supplies are likely limited, which suits our plan.”

“Good!” Huang Taiji slapped the armrest. “Yueto!”

“Sir!” Yueto knelt.

“Send orders immediately. The vanguard must withdraw completely. Not a single soldier is to remain!”

“Yes!” Yueto obeyed. Huang Taiji laughed, rising to see his longtime rival in person. His generals followed according to rank.

Deep horns sounded. Soldiers poured out, over 10,000 strong, forming a protective ring around the emperor. The army marched west toward Chifeng. If one looked from above, two massive forces were advancing toward each other.

Two hours later, on the grasslands five miles from Chifeng, Yue Yang’s army and Huang Taiji’s Qing forces finally met.

“Wooo…” The clash of horns and war trumpets echoed—one low, one high—a confrontation of two veteran armies. Eyes locked with icy, bloodthirsty precision.

“Beep beep beep…”

Yue Yang led 3,000 elite troops to the front. Huang Taiji, supported by generals and several thousand elite Bajara troops from the Yellow Banner, also reached a hill near the valley.

Across the valley, the Yingzhou army and Qing forces stared at each other. Yue Yang inhaled deeply, noting the Ming-yellow armor of the Qing troops. He said gravely:

“These belong to the Plain Yellow Banner. Huang Taiji is here.”

Suddenly, a deafening cheer rose—shouted in Manchu, unintelligible to Yue Yang. Consulting a translator, he learned:

“They are shouting ‘Long live!’”

Over ten thousand voices shouted. The Chahar guards at the camp gates stirred nervously.

“Shouting ‘Long live’… that’s not how battles are won. War isn’t about who has the louder voice,” Yue Yang said with a faint smile.

He whispered to a signal officer:

“Order the vanguard to form four square formations in a line formation and advance.”

“Yes!” The officer relayed commands via radio.

Soon, the Yingzhou army’s drums sounded. Four square formations advanced slowly but steadily, followed by an artillery unit setting up positions.

The Qing troops gaped. The Plain Yellow Banner was the emperor’s personal guard, elite beyond measure, and had never faced the Yingzhou army. Only four thousand troops—one thousand per formation—advanced. Were these Ming troops insane, rushing to die?

Veteran commanders Yueto, Hooge, and Dorgon, however, grew serious. Yueto warned:

“Great Khan, their firearms are powerful and reach far. It is unsafe here. For your protection, return to the camp!”

Huang Taiji surveyed the troops and asked:

“You have faced the Yingzhou army the most. How far do their firearms reach?”

“About three hundred paces,” Yueto replied.

“Three hundred paces…” Huang Taiji muttered. He turned to a Mongol general:

“Scingegele, send a unit to test them!”

“Yes!” The bearded general departed. Soon, over a thousand Mongol cavalry thundered toward the Ming square formations…

The stage for a historic confrontation had been set.