MLMD -Chapter 434 The Lineage-Ending Stratagem

On the sixth day of the third month in the twelfth year of Chongzhen’s reign, Yue Yang arrived outside Shengjing with an army of one hundred thousand, its vast ranks stretching for dozens of li.

From Jinzhou to Shengjing, Yue Yang’s forces met no resistance at all. Presumably Dorgon knew that sending men to block them would be futile. The army thus advanced smoothly to the outskirts of Shengjing.

Surrounded by his generals and personal guards, Yue Yang rode to a vantage point about two li outside the city to observe its walls.

Shengjing was formerly known as Shenyang. In the twenty-first year of the Hongwu reign of the Great Ming (1388), it had been constructed under the supervision of Min Zhong, Commander of the Liaodong Regional Military Commission. In the third month of the sixth year of Tianming, Nurhaci seized Shenyang by force. In the tenth year of Tianming, it was officially designated as the capital. After Hong Taiji ascended the throne, it was renamed Shengjing. Following the Manchu occupation, the city was extensively rebuilt. Today, Shengjing stretched more than ten li in circumference, with walls nearly three zhang high, eight city gates, and eight main thoroughfares—symbolizing the shared ownership of the Eight Banners.

Gazing at the towering walls of Shengjing and the Qing soldiers constantly patrolling atop them, Yue Yang pondered how to breach such a formidable stronghold. After a moment, he turned to the man beside him and asked, “Shunbao, you’ve been stationed in Jinzhou for over a year. How well do you understand the situation of Shengjing’s garrison?”

Without hesitation, Shunbao replied, “Reporting to the Marquis: in recent days I’ve continuously dispatched men to gather intelligence on Shengjing. According to the scouts, there are currently about eighty thousand Eight Banner troops inside the city, forty thousand Han Banner soldiers, and twenty thousand Mongol Banner troops. In addition, there are more than two hundred thousand Banner civilians. One could say that Shengjing now holds the vast majority of the Manchu forces. If we can wipe out the enemy within Shengjing, the remaining Manchus will be no cause for concern, and Liaodong can be pacified!”

“Mm,” Yue Yang praised. “It seems you’ve prepared well. However, taking Shengjing won’t be easy. Judging by the situation on the walls, Dorgon intends to stake everything on a final, decisive battle.”

The generals looked at the densely packed Qing patrols on the walls and silently nodded. All of them were veterans of countless campaigns and knew well the terrifying power a force could unleash once it had cast aside all thoughts of survival.

Yang Guozhu added, “Rest assured, Marquis. We understand this principle. Although our Xuan–Da Army surpasses the Qing in both morale and equipment, we are well aware of the ferocity of the Manchus and will never underestimate them. Even a lion must exert its full strength to hunt a rabbit—let alone us.”

“Lord Yang speaks truly. We all understand that a cornered beast will fight desperately. Before coming here, we were already prepared to fight the Manchus to the bitter end,” the surrounding generals echoed in agreement.

Seeing their unified resolve, Yue Yang felt gratified. It was clear that none of them had been blinded by the Xuan–Da Army’s years of victories and superior weaponry.

“Well said,” Yue Yang remarked. “It’s good that you all remain clear-headed. Though we’ve repeatedly crushed the Qing in recent years, the more so it means we must be cautious. Pride leads to defeat—you all know this, so I won’t belabor the point. Pass down the order: the entire army is to encamp immediately. Starting tomorrow, we dig trenches and build earthen walls. We’ll seal the Manchus in tightly!”

“Ah…?”

“What?”

Yue Yang’s command stunned everyone present. The generals exchanged bewildered glances. By Lord Yue’s usual temperament, shouldn’t he immediately deploy the artillery and storm the city? Shouldn’t he drown the Manchus in lead and shells? Had a year without battle somehow changed his nature?

Confused though they were, an order was an order. With commands relayed one after another, the hundred thousand Ming troops moved swiftly, encircling the massive city of Shengjing so tightly that not a drop of water could slip through.

Early the next morning, the Qing soldiers standing ready atop the walls were astonished to find no fierce assault, nor a single cannonball falling into the city. Instead, countless Ming soldiers transformed into farmers. Amid flying clods of earth, they dug trenches, erected chevaux-de-frise, strung barbed wire, and clearly assumed the posture of a long-term siege.

When news reached Dorgon, the Qing emperor’s expression immediately darkened.

“Yue Yang, you bastard—you’re trying to starve us to death! Guards, summon all Banner princes, beiles, and ministers to the hall at once!”

Soon, the Banner lords and ministers dropped their affairs and gathered in the Chongzheng Hall. Dorgon, his face grim, addressed them: “Gentlemen, you’ve all seen the Ming army’s actions. The Xuan–Da Army is clearly intent on besieging us to death. How do you propose we respond?”

As soon as Dorgon finished speaking, Hōge stepped forward and declared loudly, “Your Majesty, after these days of stockpiling, Shengjing currently has enough grain to last at least three months. If the civilians tighten their belts, half a year is no problem. Yue Yang dreams if he thinks he can starve us out!”

“Mm, Prince Su speaks reasonably,” Ao Bai echoed. “Since Yue Yang wants to starve us, then let’s endure it with him. We’ll see who collapses first!”

The others nodded in agreement. In their view, the Xuan–Da Army was far from the interior. Supplying over a hundred thousand troops solely with grain transported from within the passes would be extraordinarily difficult. Forget half a year—three months might already be impossible. Beyond the passes was a desolate wilderness, unsuitable for local foraging. If Yue Yang insisted on a prolonged standoff, it would be the Ming who suffered in the end.

After further discussion, most concluded that Yue Yang’s failure to exploit the Xuan–Da Army’s current high morale and storm the city was a foolish move. As the saying went: one drumbeat brings vigor, the second weakens it, and the third exhausts it. Once morale waned, the battle would be hard to fight.

Unable to reach any decisive conclusion, Dorgon dismissed the assembly, instructing everyone to heighten vigilance against a sudden Ming assault. Though he could not discern Yue Yang’s true intentions, an ominous sense of unease gnawed at him.

Not only were the Qing elites within Shengjing puzzled by Yue Yang’s actions—even the Xuan–Da Army itself was perplexed. After several days of intense construction, the hundred thousand troops had surrounded Shengjing—spanning more than ten li in every direction—with trenches, chevaux-de-frise, barbed wire, iron caltrops, and countless other obstacles. Any Qing force daring to break out would have to pave the way with corpses before reaching the Ming lines.

Inside the command tent, Yue Yang sat calmly in a chair, flipping through a book. Yue Shunbao stood before him, his expression anxious.

“Young Master… do you truly intend to starve the Manchus to death? I’ve heard they stockpiled a great deal of grain beforehand. Without half a year, it’d be impossible to starve them out.”

With only the two of them present, Shunbao naturally reverted to the old form of address from when he had been Yue Yang’s book attendant. To him, it emphasized their special bond.

Setting the book aside, Yue Yang looked at him calmly. “You fool—how many times have I told you to look at the bigger picture? Tell me, what is the objective of our expedition to Liaodong?”

Without hesitation, Shunbao replied, “To take Shengjing and cripple the Manchus completely.”

“Mm,” Yue Yang nodded. “It’s true that Shengjing contains nearly all the Manchu forces, along with over two hundred thousand civilians. But do you know that there are still at least several hundred thousand Manchus scattered across the vast expanse of Liaodong? If we only annihilate those inside Shengjing, what about the rest? Who’s to say these Manchu civilians, bound to us by blood feud, won’t return decades or even centuries later? So either we don’t act at all—or we eliminate these hidden dangers completely!”

At this, Shunbao’s heart jolted. “Young Master… you… you don’t mean to wipe out all those Manchu civilians, do you?”

There were perhaps seven or eight hundred thousand Manchus in Liaodong. Around three hundred thousand, soldiers included, were in Shengjing; the rest were scattered across the land. To “eliminate them all” sounded like total extermination. Even Shunbao, hardened by years of warfare and countless killings, felt a chill run through him.

Seeing his alarm, Yue Yang laughed and scolded him lightly. “What nonsense are you thinking? No matter how ruthless I am, I’d never go so far as to exterminate them all.”

Shunbao asked cautiously, “Then your plan is…?”

After a moment’s thought, Yue Yang said, “I intend to have Wu Chengfeng send all the cavalry out to gather every Manchu they can find within a two-hundred-li radius, then relocate them inside the passes. What do you think?”

“Relocate them all inside the passes?” Shunbao muttered, pondering for a long while before his eyes lit up. “You mean mixing them among our Han people… Ah—brilliant! Simply brilliant!” He slapped his thigh excitedly. “There are hundreds of millions of Han within the passes. Scatter these Manchus throughout the realm, and they’ll be like a spoonful of oil poured into a pot of water. In a few decades, we won’t need to worry about them threatening the Great Ming ever again!”

“Teachably perceptive,” Yue Yang laughed.

Coming from another world, Yue Yang knew well that the greatest strength of the Huaxia people was not military might, nor Confucian doctrine—but integration and assimilation.

Yes—assimilation. From the time of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, the Huaxia people had grown from a small tribe in the Yellow River basin, absorbing tribe after tribe, until becoming the largest nation in Asia and even the world. Any people intertwined with the Huaxia eventually became part of it. That was the true power of Huaxia civilization.

Yue Yang could not bring himself to exterminate hundreds of thousands of Manchus—but assimilation was another matter. Once relocated inside the passes, over decades or centuries, they would inevitably merge completely into the Huaxia people.

Suddenly, Shunbao asked, “What if some Manchu civilians refuse to move inside the passes?”

The moment the question left his mouth, Shunbao knew it was foolish. The flicker of killing intent in Yue Yang’s eyes had already given him the answer.

Yet another doubt surfaced. “Young Master, I could handle this task too. Why give it to Wu Chengfeng? And you even… even betrothed Miss Yueying to him. That fellow is hardly worthy of Miss Yueying…”

His voice trailed off. Shunbao had grown up at the Yue family estate, practically alongside Yueying. In his heart, she was both mistress and younger sister, a precious jewel. Given Yue Yang’s current status, if she were to marry, it should be to a regional lord or a powerful court official. Wu Chengfeng—a mere military household scion—was utterly unworthy. Ever since learning of the betrothal, Shunbao had been unable to accept it, yet he had never dared question Yue Yang—until now.

Looking at Shunbao’s bowed head, Yue Yang sighed softly. “Shunbao, I know your concern for Ying’er. But this was her own choice. As her elder brother, I only wish for her happiness. Besides, the Yue family has no need to secure its standing through marriage alliances. A true man earns his merit on horseback—how could the prosperity of a family be pinned on a woman’s womb?”

His tone grew impassioned.

Ashamed, Shunbao lowered his head. “Young Master… I was wrong.”

Smiling faintly, Yue Yang patted his shoulder. “It’s good that you understand. A few days ago, Uncle Fu reported to me that he’s arranged a marriage for you—the daughter of a deputy general from Shanxi. That’s a fine match.”

Shunbao’s face instantly reddened. He stammered, trying to speak, but Yue Yang cut him off:
“What are you blushing for? Men should marry, women should wed—you’re not young anymore. It’s time to find a wife to keep you in line! I already know about this matter. Once this campaign is over, I’ll recommend you to the court as Commander of Liaodong. I’ll entrust this land to you—you must manage it well. Understood?”

“I… thank you, Young Master, for your cultivation!” With a thud, Shunbao knelt, his voice choking with emotion. He knew everything he had was given by Yue Yang. Without him, he would have remained a mere book attendant, marrying some ordinary servant or tenant’s daughter. How could he have enjoyed today’s wealth and honor? And now Yue Yang promised to recommend him as Commander of Liaodong—placing the vast land and tens of thousands of troops in his hands. Such trust was immeasurable; he could never repay this grace in his lifetime.

“Enough—stop blubbering,” Yue Yang said. “A real man sheds blood and sweat, not tears. If you truly want to repay me, then do your job well and don’t embarrass me.”

“Yes, Young Master—I understand!” Shunbao wiped his tears and stood up. He knew words were empty; only diligent service could repay his lord’s kindness.

Yue Yang led tens of thousands of troops to encircle Shengjing completely, neither attacking nor shouting challenges. Day after day, they quietly dug trenches and fortified camps, projecting the unmistakable intent of a prolonged siege. Inside the city, the Qing princes and ministers were not anxious. In their eyes, these Ming troops who had come from afar would eventually retreat due to supply issues. If they could just hold on until that day, they would have won.

What they did not know was that while they secretly breathed a sigh of relief, an unprecedented catastrophe was unfolding in the scattered villages around Shengjing.

“Dee—dee—dee—!”

Amid shrill bugle calls and pounding hooves, dozens of fully armed Ming cavalry charged into a village, herding several hundred inhabitants into the central square. Mounted on horseback, a sword in hand, an officer coldly surveyed the gathered Manchu civilians. Most were elderly, women, and children, staring at the suddenly arrived Ming cavalry with terror and hatred. Many women and children began to cry in fear.

Looking at them, the officer spoke in halting Manchu: “Listen well. We are soldiers of the Great Ming. By order of Marquis Yue, you are to be relocated inside the passes! Congratulations—from today onward, you are subjects of the Great Ming. You’ll no longer have to worry about food. Once inside the passes, Marquis Yue will provide grain, seeds, and oxen. Work diligently and you’ll have enough to eat. You have half an hour—go home, pack up, and follow us!”

The moment he finished, an uproar erupted. A man in his sixties shouted angrily, “You Ming dogs! We Jurchens are children of Eternal Heaven! This land was bestowed upon us by Eternal Heaven—we will never go inside the passes with you!”

The officer did not grow angry; instead, he smiled strangely. “So you refuse to go with us?”

“Of course!” the old man thumped his chest. “Unless you carry my corpse there!”

The officer glanced at him and asked again, “Oh? Anyone else who doesn’t want to go?”

“Me!”

“And me!”

Several more elderly men stepped forward. Though advanced in years, their bearing was fierce—clearly men who had once been formidable.

Bang—!

Bang, bang, bang—!

Gunshots like firecrackers rang out. Blood sprayed from the bodies of the old men. The foremost one stared wide-eyed at the officer in disbelief, clutching his chest as the light slowly faded from his eyes. With a dull thud, he collapsed to the ground.

The officer raised the short musket in his hand, wisps of smoke still curling from its muzzle. He blew gently on it and asked calmly,

“Anyone else who doesn’t want to go?”