MLMD -Chapter 344 The Battle Rages On

Following Dorgon’s gesture, everyone saw countless Yingzhou soldiers running down the walls atop the heaps of corpses outside the fort. Many began clearing the bodies, dragging the dead aside, while finishing off the wounded before tossing them away. Occasional cries and screams pierced the air. Many Yingzhou troops had already begun clearing the gates blocked by corpses.

Hearing the occasional agonized wails, the Qing generals in the main formation looked grim. The numerous Mongol princes and banner leaders were even more pale with fear. The Right Red Banner chief of the Mongol Eight Banners, Engetu, who had retreated earlier, now broke down crying at the sight of his fallen soldiers being finished off on the ground. He struggled to Dorgon’s side, grasped his legs, and pleaded, “Prince, I beg you—save the warriors of our tribe! They’re lying there, being slaughtered by the Ming troops!”

Dorgon’s face was dark as iron, silent. Then Buyandai, the Left Red Banner chief of the Mongol Eight Banners, spoke with a composed expression: “Prince Hohhot, our Mongol warriors’ blood has been shed enough these past days. We do not wish to sacrifice ourselves needlessly. The Ming army is about to break out—what do you intend to do?”

“You bastard! What are you saying? Say it again!” As soon as Buyandai finished, Duoduo, who had retreated with Engetu, snapped. He strode forward, grabbed Buyandai by the collar, and snarled, “In war, people die! You want to avoid death but reap the rewards? Where do you think you’ll find that? I’m telling you, either fight the Ming dogs properly, or I’ll enforce military law myself today!”

Buyandai trembled with anger, glaring at Duoduo for a long while before turning to Dorgon with a cold voice: “Prince Hohhot… is this your intention as well?”

Silence fell. Daishan and Yueto exchanged glances at Duoduo, inwardly cursing him as incompetent and destructive. The Mongol tribes had already suffered heavy casualties in recent days. If he couldn’t offer reassurance, that would have been understandable—but now he was brandishing a blade against them? Was he asking for even more trouble? Couldn’t he see the expressions of the Mongol princes and chiefs changing? Yet he still provoked them.

Although Duoduo was reckless, Dorgon was smart. He immediately sensed the situation was worsening, stepped forward, and calmed Engetu by pulling him up. Then he said, “Engetu, I understand your concern for your warriors, but look—can we still save them? The Ming army has already broken through.”

At Dorgon’s words, everyone realized the three gates had indeed opened. Teams of Ming gunners had already emerged from the gates and formed ranks in front of the fort. Even a fool could tell the Ming were about to counterattack.

Dorgon suppressed his anger and glared at everyone, shouting, “Gentlemen, the situation has reached this point. We have no choice but to confront them. I refuse to believe that our over one hundred thousand troops cannot defeat their mere ten or twenty thousand! Today, the outcome rests on this battle. Fight with all your might, and may Changsheng Tian bless us!”

After speaking, Dorgon turned to Daishan. With Hong Taiji seriously ill, the only people who could command authority here were Daishan and Dorgon.

Dorgon looked at Daishan gravely: “Great Beile, you know the situation now. Success or failure rests on this one move. I intend to do something extraordinary—do you have any objections?”

Daishan sighed. “Very well. I understand. Proceed as you see fit. I’ll order Yueto to lead the Right Red and Left Red Banners to support you.”

“Thank you, Great Beile!”

Yue Yang’s heart leapt with joy. The strongest forces had originally been the Upper Three Banners—Plain Yellow, Bordered Yellow, and Plain Blue—but with Hong Taiji unconscious, these banners had no real leadership. Now the most powerful force in the Qing realm was himself and Daishan. With Daishan’s support, no one could oppose him.

Dorgon turned to face the Upper Three Banners and said sternly to the troops: “You all heard that, right? I now command the entire army. Anyone who disobeys my orders will answer to my wrath!”

The killing intent in Dorgon’s eyes was obvious. No one dared defy him; all lowered their heads obediently.

Yet one voice rang out inopportunely: “Prince Hohhot, I believe I just saw Zaisang leading the Khorchin troops to retreat. What should we do about this?”

“Zaisang!”

Dorgon gritted his steel teeth, almost breaking them, and spat through them: “When this battle is over, I’ll make sure you die without a grave!”

He then turned back and shouted: “Forget that for now! Everyone, follow my orders. Today, at any cost, we will annihilate the Ming army! Dudu, lead the Bordered Blue Banner to attack from the right. Engetu and Buyandai, lead the Mongol Eight Banners from the left wing. Yueto, lead the Right Red and Left Red Banners to attack from the front. I’ll lead the remainder as the central force. Today, we will not rest until Yue Yang is defeated!”

With Dorgon’s lead, morale surged, and all shouted in unison: “We will not rest until Yue Yang is defeated!”

“Advance!”

At Dorgon’s command, the Qing troops moved. Armored soldiers surged toward the Yingzhou ranks under their officers. Within a ten-kilometer radius, the plain was filled with throngs of moving figures, and the thunder of hooves echoed across the grasslands.

Yue Yang observed carefully. Dorgon’s plan was transparent—he wanted to catch the Yingzhou troops off guard before they could stabilize outside their camp.

Yue Yang calmly issued new orders through the field communicator: “Gunners, form ranks immediately. All artillery units, move your cannons to the fort walls. Wu Chengfeng, lead the cavalry to guard the flanks of the infantry. Hu Laosan, bring supplies and ammo for reinforcements…”

Orders were relayed, and tens of thousands of troops sprang into action. The Yingzhou soldiers, disciplined from years of training, quickly formed square formations under the direction of junior officers. Each formation consisted of five rows, with each row 200 men.

A thousand men formed a small square; ten thousand formed a large one, in a semicircle with the fort walls at the rear—eliminating concern for the rear. They began loading ammunition immediately, black gun muzzles aimed forward.

The Qing army approached quickly; the sound of hooves was less than three hundred paces away as the troops formed their squares.

“Peep…peep…”

Sharp whistles pierced the air, and the front ranks of the Qing were met with flashes and smoke. Cavalrymen fell in droves.

“Back row, advance! Fire!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

In under two minutes, all five rows of gunners had fired.

“Raise guns!”

Soldiers lifted their matchlocks upright, loading paper-wrapped cartridges, biting one end to open them.

“Pour powder!”

They poured gunpowder into the touchhole, loaded the lead bullets and remaining powder into the barrels.

“Ram it home!”

With a swish, they rammed bullets and powder securely, then reinserted the ramrod.

“Hold!”

The guns were raised, trained on the enemy. Years of training had ingrained these motions so deeply that they could perform them blindfolded.

“Front row, ready! Fire!”

Flashes and smoke erupted, a relentless barrage. The five-row square provided continuous fire. Though the Qing cavalry charged desperately, the hail of bullets from Yingzhou told them what a storm of gunfire meant, and what an impenetrable defense was.

Screams of the wounded and fallen horses pierced the air. Both the Qing Eight Banners and Mongol Eight Banners fought bravely, spurred by officers, charging in waves. Their sole objective: break the square, allowing infantry to follow and destroy it.

Dorgon thought likewise. Under his strict orders, tens of thousands of cavalry rushed madly at the square, disregarding casualties, with one goal: reach the front, kill the gunmen who only shot from distance.

The Qing’s suicidal charge pressured the Yingzhou army. Front ranks fell, and more pressed on. Despite the gunners’ speed, a group of sixteen or seventeen cavalry bypassed the fire and reached the square.

“Take them down! Fire!”

The soldiers adjusted their aim and fired.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Most were cut down, but a few bit the bullet and horse, plunging into the square, knocking down several rows of gunners. Over a ton of weight crushed ribs, blood spilling—momentary chaos in the formation.

Seeing comrades lead the way, more Qing troops red-eyed with excitement charged, shouting incomprehensible cries. More surged toward the square.

The gunners in the square, temporarily disrupted, had less firepower. If the Qing charged again, the formation might collapse.

At this critical moment, the fort’s cannons fired. Dozens of twelve-pound iron balls hurled into the enemy ranks, crushing cavalry. Zhao Yongxin, seeing the imminent breach, had risked friendly fire to fire the cannons.

One iron ball shattered a cavalryman’s head, then pierced a horse’s belly, cleaving it in two. Rolling further, it broke two more horses’ hooves before stopping. Zhao’s risky artillery had stopped the first wave and bought precious time.

“Raise the barrels! Aim one to two hundred paces ahead of the square!”

With danger temporarily averted, Zhao wiped cold sweat and gave new orders.

The battle intensified. The battlefield, shrouded in smoke, terrified the Qing commanders remaining in the rear. Casualties mounted at alarming rates, weighing heavily on their hearts.

In harsh environments, populations were precious. Both Mongols and Manchus valued life highly, making such reckless attacks necessary. Seeing soldiers fall like moths to a flame tore at many hearts.

Dorgon’s hand trembled on his sword. In less than a quarter-hour, over half of the 10,000 cavalry attempting to breach the Ming lines had fallen. At this rate, his 100,000 men would be exhausted in half a day.

Suppressing his fear, Dorgon turned to Duoduo: “Order the infantry to charge. Our cavalry cannot hold much longer. We must break into the Ming square before they die. Kill them. This is our last chance!”

“Fourteenth brother, understood!” Duoduo nodded, aware of the urgency, and left immediately.

Soon, the horn sounded, signaling troops to increase their speed. Qing infantry surged forward like a tidal wave.

“Faster! Fire! Load ammunition! Hurry!”

Cannon crews on the fort walls worked frantically, firing rapidly. Powder, cannonballs, and water were ferried up by Chahar tribesmen. Steam rose as wet cloths cooled the guns.

“Damn, these Tartars are desperate!” Yue Yang muttered, shocked. He ordered the communicator: “Tell Zhao Yongxin to deploy the trebuchets. Do not let them reach within seventy paces of the square!”

“Yes!”

“Wait!” Yue Yang stopped the communicator. “Also, use the incendiary bombs I brought!”

Orders flew constantly, adjusting the battlefield strategy.

At this stage, there was no methodical plan—both sides aimed only to annihilate the enemy.

The Qing cavalry had nearly all perished, sacrificing themselves to buy time for the infantry. Countless infantry surged forward like locusts, trampling over the fallen, eyes bloodshot.

A Qing officer, Fen De Boshi, led a charge, red-tasselled helmet, flag on his back, triple-layered heavy armor, wielding a six-foot iron tiger-tooth halberd, shouting as he advanced.

Behind him, five or six heavily armored elite warriors followed, brandishing shields, swords, or axes.

Amidst fire and smoke, Yingzhou gunners’ matchlocks tore through Fen De Boshi and his men, piercing armor at point-blank range, creating massive blood holes. The elite warriors were knocked down before they could fight.

The battle raged on, mercilessly…