MLMD -Chapter 438 Wu Sangui’s Unwillingness to Accept Defeat

“Whooo—”

A black shell tore through the air, screeching from violent friction, and slammed heavily into the city wall. A deafening explosion followed as hundreds of jagged fragments flew in all directions. More than a dozen soldiers who had been hauling stones and rolling logs were instantly cut down, collapsing into pools of blood.

This was a bursting shell fired from a thirty‑two‑pounder cannon. Over ten jin of black powder detonated in an instant, releasing terrifying power. Anyone within more than ten meters of the blast center would be struck by the shockwave—even if not hit by fragments—and could be knocked senseless. This was exactly the scene Dorgon had just witnessed atop the wall of the Dadongjin Gate.

As the first shell landed, more followed in rapid succession. The defenders on the wall were blasted apart, flesh and blood flying. Wu Sangui hid inside a makeshift shelter formed by three massive stones, watching the bursting shells rain down and the Guanning troops scream and flee in panic. His heart felt as if it were being cut with knives. These soldiers were the last elite he had brought from Shanhai Pass—his final foundation. If they were all lost here, everything would be over.

The quarter hour of bombardment felt like an entire century to Wu Sangui and the soldiers on the wall. When the shelling finally stopped, his elder brother Wu Sangfeng staggered over and shouted, “Second Brother, our losses are too heavy! Two thousand men, and before they even saw the enemy, seven or eight hundred are already gone! Even Father was struck on the arm by flying stones—thankfully not seriously injured. Second Brother… what do we do?”

Wu Sangui poked his head out, and only after confirming the danger had passed did he say grimly, “Big Brother, we can’t fight like this anymore. We’ve been at it for so long, losing so many men, yet the Manchus have barely lost anyone. They’re clearly trying to use us as cannon fodder. Be smart—we’re running out of capital. Don’t fight so desperately.”

“Don’t worry, I understand,” Wu Sangfeng nodded, then frowned. “But just now Hogg sent someone again, ordering us to strengthen the defenses and move all our remaining troops onto the wall. How should I reply?”

“Move my ass!” Wu Sangui’s face darkened. “Those last two thousand men are our final seeds. As long as they’re alive, the Wu family lives. If they’re gone, the Wu family will be worth less than a dog. If they want us to die for them—no chance!”

From this alone one could see the difference between Wu Sangui and Zu Dashou. Zu Dashou also sought to preserve his strength, but Wu Sangui was far more direct—almost nakedly so—laying bare the essence of the matter and his true thoughts. In his heart there was no concept of country or nation; anything beneficial to himself was worth doing at all costs.

Wu Sangfeng wasn’t surprised by Wu Sangui’s refusal, but he still frowned. “Second Brother, Hogg isn’t someone easy to deal with. If we refuse him, I’m afraid…”

“Afraid of what?” Wu Sangui gritted his teeth. “Husband and wife are birds of the same forest—when disaster strikes, each flies their own way. These Manchus are far too arrogant. At a time like this they still want to ‘preserve their strength.’ Do they think we’re fools? If we lose the men under our command, there will truly be no place left in the world for the Wu family. Those last two thousand—no matter what, we cannot move them.”

Wu Sangfeng hesitated before saying softly, “But if they hold us accountable, we won’t be able to bear the consequences.”

A ferocious smile curled Wu Sangui’s lips. “Accountable? Who would hold us accountable? At a time like this, would they dare? As long as their brains aren’t broken, they won’t turn on us now—that would only benefit the Ming army outside the city.”

“That’s true,” Wu Sangfeng nodded, understanding the logic. He clenched his teeth. “Alright. I’ll go restrain the troops and tell them to be careful—no pointless loss of life.”

By now, the entire city of Shengjing had been thrown into turmoil by the Ming offensive. Though the Ming focused their attacks on Desheng Gate and Dadongjin Gate, that didn’t mean the other six gates could rest easy. Yue Yang would never make such a low‑level mistake. While he hadn’t launched full assaults on the remaining gates, he deployed forces five or six hundred paces away from each, forming up as if to attack. This invisible pressure sent a clear message: I may not attack here now, but if you think you can relax, you’re dreaming. I can strike at any time. This was why, despite simultaneous attacks on Desheng and Dadongjin, the other Eight Banner forces didn’t come to reinforce them.

As the Ming intensified their assault on Dadongjin Gate, Hogg—responsible for its defense—was hopping mad. Once the lord of the Plain Yellow Banner and now of the Plain White Banner, he commanded nearly ten thousand elite Yellow Banner troops. Manpower wasn’t truly lacking. But Manchu policy dictated that Han Banner troops, Mongol banners, and bondservants be used as cannon fodder first, with Manchu troops committing last. Wu Sangui, assigned under him, refused to play along—doing the bare minimum, hoarding his elite two thousand men and flatly refusing to send them onto the wall. To Hogg, this was utterly intolerable.

As the Ming attack grew fiercer, the Goshiha he had sent to seek aid from Dorgon returned. When the panting messenger relayed Dorgon’s decision, Hogg froze. “What? Execute on the spot? What is the Emperor thinking? At a time like this, killing our own—doesn’t he fear internal strife?”

Though violent by nature, Hogg understood this much after years of campaigning; otherwise, he wouldn’t have tolerated Wu Sangui’s foot‑dragging for so long.

“Master, I don’t know either,” the Goshiha swore. “But those were the Emperor’s own words. I heard them clearly—not a single word wrong.”

“Haha… Ao Bai, what do you think?” Hogg asked hesitantly, turning to the fierce general beside him.

Ao Bai stood clad in gleaming silver armor, thick bronze studs accentuating his brutish features. He snorted coldly. “If the Emperor has said it, we carry it out. If we let Wu Sangui keep this up, the Ming will breach the walls sooner or later.”

With matters at this point, Hogg could only agree. It was a matter of principle—how could the master fight at the front while the servant watched from behind? If the Manchus were all wiped out, even if Shengjing held, would it still be a Manchu city?

Thinking this, Hogg said solemnly, “Ao Bai, take a thousand warriors at once. Tell Wu Sangui: if he continues to shirk the fight, I will enforce military law!”

“Aye.” Ao Bai saluted and led a thousand men toward the wall.

…

“Move! First squad forward! Musketeers provide cover below—don’t let the Manchus shoot arrows and drop stones so comfortably!”

“He Hanyun, you idiot—what are you dawdling for? Get your men up there!”

Outside Dadongjin Gate, Yang Guozhu, commanding the assault, shouted through a loudspeaker. Squad after squad of soldiers in green uniforms and stab‑resistant armor, shields and steel sabers in hand, climbed toward the wall in orderly fashion. Behind them, rows of musketeers aimed intently at the battered wall three hundred paces away, ready to unleash a storm of bullets at anyone daring to expose themselves.

A shieldman had just crested the ladder when a long spear stabbed down with fierce force. He raised his shield just in time—clang!—metal rang out. The blow knocked him off the ladder, and he crashed heavily to the ground. The spearman barely had time to rejoice before gunshots rang out. A searing pain erupted in his chest. Looking down, he saw a gaping hole torn through him. Before he could utter a word, he toppled forward and fell from the wall.

As his body hit the ground, another shieldman climbed the ladder to face yet another defending spearman…

The fighting at Dadongjin Gate was brutally intense, with horrifying casualties. In less than an hour, of the two thousand men Wu Sangui first sent onto the wall, fewer than five hundred remained. The brothers Wu felt a chill of dread.

Surrounded by advancing Ming troops and endless screams, Wu Sangfeng grabbed Wu Sangui’s hand, trembling. “Second Brother, this can’t go on. At this rate, the Guanning Army’s last foundation will be wiped out. We must withdraw!”

Before Wu Sangui could respond, a cold voice rang out nearby: “Withdraw? Withdraw to where? Without Prince Su’s order, anyone who retreats will die by my blade!”

They turned to see Ao Bai’s grim, pancake‑like face not far away. His massive frame and saber exuded crushing pressure. Behind him stood a crowd of fully armed Plain White Banner soldiers, all glaring fiercely.

Wu Sangfeng’s heart tightened. Ao Bai was no one to trifle with—a famed Manchu warrior whose hands were stained with the blood of countless Ming soldiers.

Swallowing hard, Wu Sangfeng forced himself to speak. “Lord Ao Bai, we’ve done our utmost. Two thousand men held for barely an hour, and now fewer than five hundred can still fight. With so few, it’s impossible to defend such a long stretch of wall. Please send reinforcements at once!”

“Fewer than five hundred?” Ao Bai said coldly, unmoved. “I recall you command four thousand men. You’ve only sent two thousand so far. What are the other two thousand for—waiting to breed?”

The insult nearly made Wu Sangfeng choke. His face flushed as he prepared to argue, but Wu Sangui stopped him, stepping forward. “My lord, it’s true the Wu family surrendered to the Qing, and we are now your subjects. But I must think of the men under me. They followed us to the Qing simply to find a way to live. Of our four thousand, nearly half are already dead or wounded—surely that’s enough loyalty? Must we die to the last man before you’re satisfied? Or has the Wu family offended you somehow, that you’re determined to drive us to extinction?”

“You—!”

Ao Bai flushed red. When it came to words, the battlefield brute was no match for Wu Sangui. Two sentences had cornered him completely.

At a loss, Ao Bai drew his saber with a sharp clang, the blade gleaming coldly. “I don’t care how many you’ve lost. I ask you one thing only—will you send up the remaining troops or not? By the Emperor’s command, anyone who disobeys orders in battle will be executed on the spot!”

Wu Sangui laughed bitterly. “I knew you’d treat us surrendered troops as expendable. I just didn’t expect you to be this ruthless. Brothers—if the Manchus won’t give us a way to live, we won’t make it easy for them either! Come here!”

Weapons clattered as soldiers rushed over. Though Wu Sangui’s character was questionable, his command ability was real. Even now, many of his men were willing to follow him. Soon, over a hundred of his soldiers faced off against Ao Bai’s thousand Plain White Banner troops.

Ao Bai glared, teeth clenched. “Wu Sangui, are you truly rebelling against the Great Qing?”

“If there’s rebellion, it’s because you forced it!” Wu Sangui roared inwardly. If all his men died, wouldn’t he be discarded like a worn shoe?

“Fine—don’t blame me for being merciless!” Ao Bai shouted, pointing his saber. His troops surged forward. Wu Sangui and his men met them head‑on. A bloody clash was about to erupt—

“Stop! All of you, stop them at once!”

A thunderous shout rang out. Plain Yellow Banner troops in bright yellow armor rushed in, separating both sides. Dorgon soon arrived, surrounded by his guards.

Still pale from illness, Dorgon’s face darkened further in anger. He pointed at them and cursed, “You fools! At a time like this, instead of uniting against the enemy, you’re fighting each other? Are you all that eager to die?”

Neither Ao Bai nor Wu Sangui dared speak. Ao Bai simmered with resentment—the order to suppress came from you, and now you play the good cop? And Wu Sangui felt bitter dread: with only a few hundred men against thousands of Manchus, resistance was hopeless.

Yet Wu Sangui steeled himself. Raising his head, he said, “Your Majesty, we’ve already lost over half our men. Without reinforcements, the few I have left will be wiped out. I beg you—leave us some seed.”

Dorgon studied him, uncertain. He had intended to wear Wu Sangui down through Ao Bai, but now he saw he had underestimated him. Pushed too far, Wu Sangui would bite. Killing them all would cost Qing lives—and with the enemy at the gates, internal slaughter would be absurd. He changed course.

Softening his tone, Dorgon said, “General Wu, Ao Bai acted wrongly just now, and I apologize. But with the enemy pressing, we must first repel the Ming. Otherwise, once they breach the city, none of us will survive. Is that not so?”

Wu Sangui sighed. “That’s true. But Ao Bai demanded I commit all my men, only promising reinforcements after they were dead. Your Majesty—does war work like that?”

“I—”

Before Dorgon could reply, a dull whistling filled the air. A shell crashed less than twenty meters away.

“Boom!”

The bursting shell exploded…