MLMD -Chapter 329 Battle Formation Ablaze (III)

In this world, there are no walls that can never be breached, and no shields that cannot be broken. More than a dozen shield carts—once regarded by the Qing troops as incomparably sturdy—were finally smashed apart after being struck by iron balls the size of eggs. What followed was the sight of streams of bright red blood flowing out from the shattered shield carts. That blood belonged to the archers and crossbowmen who had been hiding inside.

“Get down! All of you, get down!”

The Qing soldiers reacted quickly. Seeing that the shield carts could no longer provide protection, the archers and crossbowmen hiding inside could no longer sit still. They jumped out one after another, raised their bows and crossbows, and began shooting forward.

Sparse yet piercing arrows were the first to reach the artillery battalion. From time to time, gunners were struck and fell to the ground. By now, the Qing troops had already closed to within seventy paces of the artillery—this was the maximum effective range of Qing bows and crossbows. More and more Qing archers surged forward, and the number of gunners falling from arrow wounds steadily increased.

“Hahaha… we’ve pushed up! We’ve pushed up!” Two or three li away from the battlefield, many Qing commanders with telescopes shouted excitedly. In their eyes, once the Great Qing warriors pressed close and eliminated those annoying cannons, the musketeers—who only knew how to hide far away and fire—would become lambs waiting for slaughter.

The joy of victory surged through them. Even Huang Taiji, whose face had been gloomy, showed a faint smile. Though they had just lost over two thousand cavalry, if they could annihilate these five thousand musketeers and the artillerymen, it would all be worth it. More importantly, they would seize several thousand of the most advanced muskets. With those, the Great Qing could form an elite firearms battalion and would no longer fear the firepower of the Yingzhou Army.

Of course, not everyone shared in the joy. Dorgon, Yueto, Ajige, and others who had clashed with the Yingzhou Army several times before were far less optimistic. They all felt that things would not be so simple. But with everyone else celebrating, they could hardly pour cold water on the mood. They could only stand quietly, saying nothing.

Just as Huang Taiji and many Qing commanders were rejoicing over the impending victory, a company commander stood beside a row of trebuchets, holding a small red flag. The trebuchets had already been set up one after another. Heavy, massive “Wanren Di” bombs lay quietly on the throwing arms. Beside each trebuchet stood two men—one holding a torch, the other gripping the pulling rope.

“Wanren Di—release!”

At this critical moment, the company commander sharply dropped the red flag in his hand and roared the order. As the command was given, the fuses on the Wanren Di were lit. The soldiers holding the ropes yanked hard, and one after another, volleyball-sized iron bombs shot out from the throwing arms.

“Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh…”

These Ming-dynasty versions of grenades, each weighing four to five jin, were hurled high into the air by the trebuchets. After tracing elliptical arcs, they landed heavily on the ground seventy to eighty paces away. Some were “lucky” enough to smash into the heads of unfortunate Qing soldiers, cracking skulls and spilling blood.

Watching these black lumps fall from the sky and land around them, many Qing soldiers were puzzled. The Ming army’s artillery—how could its power be so small? Were these just for show?

They soon realized they were wrong—terribly wrong.

Those iron lumps wobbling at their feet suddenly exploded. The blasts were like heaven collapsing and earth shattering. Countless Qing soldiers heard such violent explosions for the first time in their lives—and then… there was no “then” anymore.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

Violent explosions erupted one after another, accompanied by thick clouds of smoke. Qing soldiers who had been charging forward were torn apart in the blasts. Anyone within the shockwave’s range died with blood bursting from their seven orifices. Even those outside the lethal radius were struck by flying fragments. Those lucky enough to survive were stunned senseless by the sudden deafening blasts, ears ringing, as the entire front line descended into chaos.

The damage inflicted by this round of explosions was far greater than that caused by the earlier solid shot. Many Qing soldiers encountering such an attack for the first time were utterly terrified. Some ran around like headless flies; others—especially auxiliary troops—even dropped to their knees on the spot, kowtowing to the heavens and begging forgiveness. The battlefield was in total disarray.

Yet whether they believed in gods or not, the Qing troops’ misfortune was far from over. Less than twenty seconds after the first wave of explosions, the second wave arrived. As before, dozens of black iron balls traced arcs through the air, landed on the ground, their burning fuses hissing, and then erupted in another series of blasts. Thick black smoke engulfed countless Qing soldiers.

“How could this happen?” On a hill three li away, Huang Taiji gripped his riding whip tightly, his knuckles turning pale from the force. His face twisted with rage.

“I knew it… I knew the Ming army would have something like this,” Dorgon and Yueto muttered bitterly. Having already suffered heavy losses at the hands of the Yingzhou Army, the two could no longer bear to watch the scene unfolding before them. Almost in unison, they closed their eyes in pain.

“How could it come to this…” Watching the unceasing explosions swallow the Qing troops ahead, Huang Taiji knew that the six to seven thousand elite Manchu soldiers were finished. His bloodshot eyes scanned around, and suddenly he noticed the unnatural expressions on Yueto and Dorgon. In a burst of fury, he seized Dorgon by the chest and shouted wildly, “Dorgon! Did you know this would happen? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Dorgon, suddenly subjected to this outburst, was stunned. As Huang Taiji raged at him, spittle flying, Dorgon suppressed his own anger and said through clenched teeth, “Great Khan, you wrong your younger brother. I am no immortal—how could I know how the Ming army would fight? Besides, even if I had spoken just now, would you have ordered Ustai to withdraw?”

Ustai was the Meile Zhangjing commanding the frontline—a brave general of the Qing. Huang Taiji, pressed by Dorgon’s retort, found himself momentarily speechless. He glared at Dorgon, about to erupt again, when Daišan hurried forward and pulled him aside.

“Great Khan, this truly cannot be blamed on Prince Rui. The Ming army is cunning and hard to guard against—especially that brat Yue Yang. Years ago, this old minister crossed swords with him on the Khorchin grasslands and knows well how devious he is.”

After venting his anger, Huang Taiji finally let go, though unwillingly.

Dorgon straightened his clothes. A flash of fury passed through his eyes before he calmly said, “Great Khan, you should order Ustai to withdraw immediately, or it will be too late.”

“Withdraw…” Huang Taiji gave a bitter smile. “Can they still withdraw now?”

By this time, the Qing troops at the front were completely engulfed in smoke. The explosions of the Wanren Di, the thunder of cannon fire, and the orderly volleys of musketry had swallowed them whole. Even someone ignorant of warfare could tell—the unit was finished.

The gunfire thundered on for a full quarter-hour. After the shooting finally stopped, another quarter-hour passed before the smoke slowly dispersed. What appeared before everyone was a scene too horrible to behold: in the center of the battlefield, corpses lay piled upon corpses, limbs scattered everywhere. Countless Qing soldiers had died on the path of their charge. Even those lucky enough to survive lay on the ground, weakly groaning.

Staring at the battlefield like a hell of Asura, Huang Taiji closed his eyes in agony. He had lost. The combat power of Yue Yang’s Yingzhou Army far exceeded his expectations. Two thousand five hundred cavalry and six thousand infantry had been swallowed whole, while the enemy’s losses were negligible—only a few dozen gunners killed by arrows.

After the battle, a deathly silence fell over the field. Everyone was shaken by what they had just witnessed.

“Great Khan… Great Khan, Prince Zhishun has withdrawn,” a Goshha ran up to report.

“Hm.” Huang Taiji’s already pale face looked even worse. He took a deep breath and said, “Go… summon Shang Kexi.”

“Yes.”

Soon, a disheveled Shang Kexi arrived before Huang Taiji. The moment he approached, he dropped to his knees with a thud and cried, “Great Khan, this servant has failed your expectations. Please punish me.”

Huang Taiji forcibly suppressed the urge to draw his blade and kill someone. Stepping forward, he asked in a deep voice, “Prince Zhishun, why did you not return fire with your artillery just now?”

“Great Khan, you saw it yourself. It was not that I did not wish to counterattack, but that there was no time. The Yingzhou Army’s firepower is too fierce. Before we could even set up our guns, their shot was already raining down. Our troops suffered heavy casualties—we had no chance to fight back. Moreover, our cannons weigh from over a thousand jin to more than two thousand jin each. They cannot be moved easily and cannot deliver effective counterfire. This servant truly had no choice.”

“You still dare to argue!” Huang Taiji could no longer hold back. He lashed out with his riding whip, striking Shang Kexi again and again. With several sharp cracks, Shang Kexi took seven or eight lashes across his head and body.

Kneeling on the ground, Shang Kexi lowered his head and silently endured the blows, teeth clenched, not daring to utter a sound. To the side, Hooge and several Qing commanders watched with schadenfreude. In their view, Shang Kexi had brought this upon himself. That earlier barrage had nearly wiped out all the cannons the Qing had painstakingly cast over several years—and he still dared to make excuses.

After a few more lashes, Huang Taiji panted and asked, “Tell me—how many cannons did your Han Banner lose just now?”

Enduring the pain, Shang Kexi replied respectfully, “Reporting to the Great Khan: we have managed to salvage twenty-three Red Barbarian cannons and thirty-seven small cannons.”

At these words, Huang Taiji’s body swayed again. Shang Kexi’s report meant that fully half of the Great Qing’s artillery had been destroyed in that bombardment. These were cannons he had spent three years accumulating—along with the hard-trained gunners. All of it had been built with mountains of silver, and now half of it had vanished into nothing.

Huang Taiji felt his vision darken. His temples throbbed violently as his body staggered. Hooge, quick-eyed and quick-handed, rushed forward to support him, crying out in alarm.

“Imperial Father! Imperial Father, what’s wrong?”

“Great Khan! Great Khan, are you all right?” The others crowded around as well, Dorgon foremost among them. Seeing Huang Taiji’s face turn deathly white, he urgently shouted, “Men! Quickly escort the Great Khan back to rest—withdraw the troops and return to camp!”

“Yes!”

Under normal circumstances, even if Huang Taiji collapsed, there were many present whose seniority exceeded Dorgon’s, and it would not yet be Dorgon’s place to give orders. But with Huang Taiji down, everyone panicked and paid no mind to who had spoken. Withdrawal orders were issued in quick succession. Soon, more than a dozen great banners of the Qing began to move back, and tens of thousands of Qing troops slowly retreated.

The moment the Qing began to withdraw, the observers in the hot-air balloons noticed it. The news quickly reached Yue Yang. Known for believing in “pursuing the enemy to the end,” Yue Yang felt no pity for the Qing. He immediately ordered a pursuit. Soon, fifteen thousand cavalry split into two columns and chased after the Qing, while the remaining twenty thousand musketeers also advanced. Only five thousand logistics troops stayed behind to clean up the battlefield.

To Yue Yang’s regret, however, although the Qing retreated, their formation remained orderly. Under the command of Dorgon, Yueto, Abatai, Dudu, and others, they set up defenses layer by layer, forcibly blocking Wu Chengfeng’s and Bater’s cavalry on open ground one li from the Qing camp. The fighting grew larger and larger, and it looked as though a massive cavalry battle was about to erupt.

Upon hearing this, Yue Yang quickly ordered them to pull back. He had only this much cavalry—if he spent it all against the Qing, it would break his heart.

“Cavalry, withdraw to protect both flanks of the infantry! Musketeers, quicken your pace and advance in combined formation!”

Even though Yue Yang pushed the infantry to move as fast as possible, the Qing retreat was no slower. Fighting as they withdrew, they reached their main camp within half an hour. Looking at the Qing camp with its complete defensive works, Yue Yang sighed softly. Such a camp could not be breached by muskets alone—it would require artillery to systematically destroy the defenses.

With a sigh of reluctance, Yue Yang said, “Forget it. We’ll let Huang Taiji off cheap this time. Withdraw.”

A great battle ended after only half a day—something no one had expected beforehand. And the reason was simply the collapse of a single commander.

In the Qing camp, Huang Taiji lay on a bed, a wet towel placed on his head. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing rapid. An imperial physician carefully felt his pulse. Around them stood many generals, their expressions tense.

After a long while, the physician said slowly, “The Great Khan’s illness is caused by sudden anger attacking the heart. The main symptoms are dizziness, swelling and pain in the head, flushed face and ears, irritability, and a red tongue with yellow coating. Yesterday, the Great Khan vomited blood, expelling much of the stagnation, but today he was again seized by rage, triggering the illness. This condition requires gradual recuperation. In my opinion, the Great Khan should return to Shengjing to recover.”

In modern terms, Huang Taiji’s condition would be classified as a systemic illness—commonly known as hypertension. In ancient times, it was often called vertigo.

Hooge was stunned. If Huang Taiji left, what about the army? Who would command it? Even at his most arrogant, Hooge knew it would not be him. He hurriedly said, “Physician, this will not do. Our Great Qing’s hundred thousand troops are here, locked in decisive battle with the Ming. How can we withdraw just because of this?”

The physician shook his head. “The Great Khan’s condition is serious. Only by returning to Shengjing and recuperating can he hope to recover.”

Hooge turned to Daišan for help. “Great Beile, say something! Imperial Father cannot go back now.”

Daišan, as the Great Beile, enjoyed great prestige among the Qing elite. Naturally, Hooge looked to him first. Yet Daišan was deeply troubled—this was a hot potato. Agreeing to let Huang Taiji return would earn Hooge’s resentment; opposing it would be disastrous if the Great Khan worsened here.

After pondering for a long time, Daišan finally shook his head. “This matter is of great importance. It must be decided through deliberation by all the generals.”

Hearing this, Hooge almost spat blood. If it were up to collective deliberation, why would I even ask you? What an old fox—won’t suffer even the slightest loss.

Hooge’s thoughts were obvious to the others. He feared that once his father returned to Shengjing, command would slip from his hands. Such things, however, were not easily spoken aloud. Dorgon and Dodo even sneered coldly from the side.

The great tent fell into silence. Suddenly, a coughing sound rang out—Huang Taiji had awakened.

His first words were, “How long was I unconscious?”

“Imperial Father, you’re awake?” Hooge rushed over. “You frightened your son to death. You’ve been unconscious for nearly two hours.”

“Two hours…” Huang Taiji murmured. Looking around at everyone in the tent, he said in a weak but firm voice, “I heard everything you said just now. I will repeat myself once more: I am not leaving. I will stay here and wait for your good news. If Yue Yang is not destroyed, I will die here and never return to Shengjing!”

Hearing this, everyone dropped to their knees. “Great Khan, please take care of your health!”

Huang Taiji’s gaze slowly swept over them as he said resolutely, “If you want me to return to Shengjing, it’s simple—destroy Yue Yang. This is my decree!”

“Yes…”

A unified response echoed through the great tent.