MLMD -Chapter 324 Yue Yang Curses People

“Eh… these barbarians really dare to come and throw their lives away?”

Yue Yang lowered the binoculars, muttering softly, then turned to the signalman beside him. “Order four formations to advance. Hit them hard!”

The thunder of hooves grew ever more urgent. More than a thousand Mongol cavalrymen let out strange howls, holding composite bows in their left hands while fitting arrows with their right, the arrowheads already aimed at the Ming formations ahead, ready to loose the moment they entered range.

Facing the onrushing Mongol horsemen, the four infantry formations had long since halted. The musketeers in the front ranks lowered their face guards, raised their muskets, and aimed the black muzzles straight ahead.

Objectively speaking, there had been good reason why Mongol cavalry once dominated Eurasia. The former Yuan Empire had carved out the term “Yellow Peril” in Europe’s future lexicon with iron hooves—it was no accident. But times had changed. After being suppressed by the Ming Empire for more than two centuries, the once-invincible iron cavalry had declined so drastically that their national strength had regressed by hundreds of years. This was evident just by looking at the armor they wore and the arrows they used.

In the past, Mongol cavalry armor consisted of oxhide lining with iron plates layered outside, the scales linked like fish scales, providing formidable protection that arrows could not easily penetrate. Their arrowheads were forged from fine iron, boasting tremendous penetrating power. Combined with strict discipline and fearless courage, even today’s Qing dynasty could not hold a candle to the former Yuan Empire.

But now, three hundred years later, few Mongol cavalrymen could even afford armor, and those who did wore nothing more than crude oxhide coats. As for their arrows, they were pitifully crude—arrowheads polished from animal teeth and bones. Why not use iron? Because many Mongol tribes were so poor they didn’t even own an iron pot; how could they spare iron to make arrowheads? Facing the fully armed Yingzhou Army with such equipment, the outcome was already obvious.

When the Mongol cavalry charged to within three hundred and fifty paces of the infantry formations, the four company commanders in the front ranks almost simultaneously gave the order to fire. White smoke and dull gunshots erupted together, and the charging Mongols seemed as if they had suddenly hit invisible tripwires. Countless warhorses screamed and collapsed. Some riders were thrown backward, others fell with their mounts, and some were even blasted off their horses by powerful lead bullets, flung through the air before crashing to the ground—only to be trampled into pulp by the hooves of those charging behind them.

The sudden gunfire instantly disrupted the Mongol assault. The front ranks fell en masse, and chaos spread through those behind.

“Scatter! Scatter! Go around from the sides!”

The Mongol thousand-commander directing the attack was a seasoned veteran. He immediately ordered the cavalry to disperse, intending to use their most familiar tactic—the “Mangudai” maneuver—against these poorly maneuverable infantry.

The Mangudai tactic was an advanced mounted archery technique, and when paired with the Mongols’ long-range composite bows, it had once been devastating—one of the key reasons Mongol cavalry ruled the world. But today, this three-hundred-year-old tactic ran headlong into its natural counter: muskets with even greater range.

The effective range of firearms depended mainly on two factors: barrel length and powder charge and quality. For this expedition, Yue Yang had made extensive preparations. Before setting out, Yue Yan had equipped all musketeers not only with standard round lead balls, but also with specialized Minié bullets. The gunpowder was replaced with pre-measured granular black powder, allowing the rifled muskets to unleash their full potential. Each Minié bullet weighed 32.4 grams, with a lethal range of up to nine hundred meters and reliable accuracy within five hundred and fifty meters. However, due to slow production and high cost, Minié bullets were used only by command order; under normal circumstances, musketeers still used standard round balls.

Now, seeing the Mongol cavalry change tactics, the formation commanders issued new orders at once.

“Musketeers on both wings—begin precision fire on the Mongol cavalry!”

“Woooo—!”

The Mongol cavalry sweeping around the flanks charged again, galloping wildly and letting out strange cries in an attempt to unsettle their opponents, as was their custom.

But this time, their fate was even worse. When they reached six hundred paces from the formations, gunfire rang out again. Riders at the front began dropping from their horses like dumplings into boiling water. The sight stunned everyone watching.

“What’s going on? How can this be?!”

Seeing this, Huang Taiji nearly fell from his horse. Daisan behind him tore out several strands of his beard in shock, while Dorgon, Abatai, and Dodo felt as if they were dreaming.

Huang Taiji grabbed Yueto and roared, “Didn’t you say the Yingzhou Army’s muskets only had a range of three hundred paces? Look! Look now—does this look like three hundred paces? It’s over six hundred!”

“Th-this…”

Yueto was utterly stunned. This was far beyond his understanding. The enemy’s weapon range had suddenly doubled—an outright catastrophe for the Qing army. Six hundred paces… a distance enough to drive one to despair. It meant that in any future battle with the Yingzhou Army, they would have to charge through over five hundred paces of gunfire just to reach the enemy—and that was assuming there were no further surprises.

This was a battle without hope. After two charges, out of more than a thousand cavalrymen, fewer than four hundred remained mounted. The rest lay scattered across the cold earth.

Finally, at a long whistle, the remaining three hundred-plus Mongol cavalrymen turned and fled this despairing battlefield.

As the Mongols retreated, thunderous cheers erupted from the Yingzhou Army formations.

“Total victory!”

“Total victory!”

“Great Ming—total victory!”

The sudden roar made the Qing soldiers’ breathing grow heavy. The Bordered Yellow Banner under Huang Taiji had always been proud—proud of their victories since Nurhaci’s rise and the doctrine of invincibility drilled into them by their leaders. “If the Jurchens reach ten thousand, none can oppose them” was something they themselves had boasted. Yet today, these elite Qing warriors witnessed something utterly beyond expectation. A killing range exceeding six hundred paces—enough to crush hope itself. Many couldn’t help but wonder: if I had been there, what would I have done? Could I have broken through the Ming formations? After pondering, most reluctantly answered no. Qing morale inevitably sank.

Huang Taiji quickly noticed this. A man capable of becoming khan had his strengths. Seeing morale slip, he burst into loud laughter.

“Hahaha—!”

His laughter drew attention. At his rank, flatterers were never lacking. Yueto immediately asked, “Why does the Great Khan laugh?”

Huang Taiji laughed loudly. “I laugh because the Yingzhou Army has sharp weapons but no understanding of battlefield maneuver. The Han say that prolonged defense leads to defeat. Relying on slow-moving infantry, no matter how powerful their weapons, they can only wait passively for us to attack. We need only send small numbers of elite cavalry to pin them down, exhaust their ammunition, and once their guns become nothing more than fire sticks, it will be time for us to slaughter them.”

“The Great Khan is wise!” Yueto prostrated himself in admiration, and the surrounding soldiers all knelt, shouting long live.

Among them knelt Dorgon as well. Intelligent as he was, he knew countering Ming firearms would not be so simple, but he still admired Huang Taiji’s quick wit. Otherwise, if defeatist emotions spread further, overall morale would collapse.

Seeing his soldiers shout in unison, Huang Taiji quietly exhaled in relief. Morale was stabilized—for now. But the Ming army opposite was troublesome. Fight? Too few troops would be suicide; too many would prompt reinforcement, leading to an early decisive battle—something Huang Taiji wanted to avoid. From the skirmish alone, he knew a head-on clash would be a bloody exchange with massive losses, contrary to Qing interests.

After some thought, Huang Taiji rode forward out of his formation. The Goshha beside him turned pale—having just seen the lethality of Ming firearms, they feared for his safety. They rushed to stop him, only to be forced back by his sharp gaze.

Huang Taiji advanced several dozen paces and shouted in Chinese, “Is the man ahead the Loyal and Brave Marquis Yue Yang? I am Huang Taiji, Emperor of the Great Qing, and I invite General Yue to come forth for a meeting!”

His voice was loud, but with nearly two or three li between the armies, Yue Yang couldn’t hear him. After shouting twice with no response, Huang Taiji gestured back and gave instructions. Soon, Chinese voices rang out from the Qing front.

“The Emperor of the Great Qing invites the Loyal and Brave Marquis to come forth!”

“The Emperor of the Great Qing invites the Loyal and Brave Marquis to come forth!”

Having long interacted with Han people in Liaodong, many Qing soldiers knew some Chinese. Soon, thousands shouted together, and the sound carried far—reaching Yue Yang.

Hearing the call, Yue Yang found it strange. In the midst of battle, why would Huang Taiji summon him? After some thought, it seemed nothing more than words—Huang Taiji couldn’t possibly pull any tricks.

With that, Yue Yang rode forward. The four musket formations parted to open a path. He advanced to the front, with Chen Dazhi and over ten guards following closely. Huang Taiji also rode forward a hundred paces with a dozen Goshha. Both sides stopped at a distance of over three hundred paces.

Yue Yang advanced a few steps and smiled. “Yue Yang is here. What guidance does the Great Khan have?”

Huang Taiji sized him up and nodded inwardly. What a spirited Loyal and Brave Marquis.

But now was not the time for admiration. Huang Taiji smiled. “For two years I have heard that Great Ming has produced a most formidable general. I long wished to meet you. Today I finally do—and you do not disappoint. Truly a fine figure of a man!”

Facing Huang Taiji in his yellow dragon robe, Yue Yang raised a loudspeaker and laughed loudly. “I too have long heard how remarkable Huang Taiji of the Great Qing is. But seeing you today, I find you’re just a fat man—quite a disappointment.”

“Impudent!”

“Damnable Han dog—how dare you insult our Great Khan!”

The Goshha erupted in fury. To them, Huang Taiji was everything.

Huang Taiji raised his hand, stopping them. He said coldly, “Yue Yang, I heard you were a man of substance. Are you merely someone who relies on sharp words?”

“Hahaha!” Yue Yang laughed. “Of course not. I merely spoke my feelings. But why has the Great Khan summoned me?”

Huang Taiji smiled faintly. “Yue Yang, the Ming has been thrown into chaos by that Chongzhen brat—rebellions everywhere, the people suffering. I have sent troops south many times, only to be blocked by you. I long believed you were the only Ming general who could stand against us. But one man cannot hold up the sky. Even if you were made of iron, how many nails could you hammer? Your people say, ‘A good bird chooses a good tree.’ Why not submit to the Great Qing? I will grant you a king’s title!”

The icy wind carried his words far. Many were stunned. Offering a kingship outright was an enormous inducement—even Yue Yang paused briefly.

Then he burst out laughing. “Huang Taiji, is this your sincerity? I don’t understand—your so-called Great Qing has barely a million people, fewer than two hundred thousand troops, and only a few thousand li of barren land. You close your doors and call yourselves kings—that’s one thing. But to use that to tempt me—isn’t it laughable?

“And besides, your father Nurhaci was nothing more than a general enfeoffed by the Great Ming—a Ming lackey. Later he acknowledged Li Chengliang, the Ming commander of Liaodong, as his godfather, flattering his way to a better life. After eating his fill, his courage grew fat too. When Li Chengliang died, he turned traitor, scraping together thirteen sets of ragged armor to rebel. After decades, he gained a foothold in Liaodong—and now you dare attack your former master. Do you know what that’s called? Betraying one’s lord! You slave dogs dare speak such words to your master? By your own Manchu rules, shouldn’t that earn you the pig cage? Aren’t you ashamed?”

“Clack—clack—”

Huang Taiji’s teeth chattered in fury. Never in his life had he heard such venomous insults. The Emperor of the Great Qing reduced to a traitorous house slave—no words could be more humiliating. He stared at Yue Yang, eyes blazing with murderous rage, swaying on his horse. Several Goshha rushed to steady him. He swayed again, then spat out a mouthful of blood.

“Great Khan!”

The Goshha wasted no time, yanking the reins and rushing back toward their lines, the others standing guard in case of attack.

Watching Huang Taiji slumped over his horse, Yue Yang muttered in disbelief, “Damn… just a few insults and he’s vomiting blood? If he lived in the modern era and met internet trolls, ten lives wouldn’t be enough.”

The Qing rear formation stirred. Many who understood Chinese were enraged at hearing their Great Khan insulted as a traitorous slave. Some were already itching to charge.

Chen Dazhi quickly pulled Yue Yang back. The formations closed again, shielding him.

On the other side, seeing their Great Khan brought back slumped over his horse, Qing soldiers grew restless…