MLMD -Chapter 57 The Troubled Zaisang

“Ah… pfft…”

Ao Bai, who had been wounded in the arm and fallen behind, finally charged up to the front line. But the warhorse under him was immediately struck by a spearman’s lance. The horse let out a long, startled cry and collapsed to the ground. Yet Ao Bai was a fearsome warrior; he rolled off and jumped to his feet. With his uninjured right hand, he swiftly drew the short axe from his back and swung it at the approaching spearman.

A glint of cold steel flashed, and the short axe struck the spearman squarely in the chest with a loud clang. The soldier toppled backward, eyes to the sky. But before a smile could form on Ao Bai’s face, the spearman staggered shakily back to his feet.

“What… still alive?”

Ao Bai’s eyes nearly popped out. The deep dent in the man’s chest was clear—his short axe, though only about 3.6 jin in weight, was exceptionally sharp. When thrown with Ao Bai’s strength, its destructive force was usually terrifying. Countless Ming soldiers had fallen to it. But today, for the first time, Ao Bai realized his usually infallible short axe couldn’t pierce the armor of a spearman. For the first time, doubt about his own strength flickered in his mind.

In fact, the failure wasn’t due to his weakened arm from injury—it was the armor.

Unlike ancient armor made of wrought iron, the armor Yue Yang had equipped his troops with was crafted from 3mm-thick cold-forged steel plates, with a carbon content of around 0.44%, and an effective defense of about 250 joules. Most men’s strength could only deliver around 210 joules, and the very strongest perhaps 240 joules. Compared to scale armor, plate armor’s greatest advantage was its ability to quickly disperse the impact of a blow across the entire body. So if Ao Bai’s axe didn’t immediately penetrate the armor, the force was spread out, greatly reducing damage. That was why the spearman could still stand after being struck.

Clang…

A Jurchen cavalryman swung his axe-spear into the back of a sword-and-shield soldier with a loud metallic clash. The soldier staggered but quickly regained his footing, spinning to strike back. The Jurchen dodged, but his horse was struck—half its head cleaved off—and it collapsed silently. The sword-and-shield soldier tried to follow up, but was smashed aside by an oncoming warhorse, flying three to four meters before landing unmoving.

Watching the fierce fighting ahead, Daishan’s eyes widened in astonishment. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed such protective armor existed. The heavy arrows shot by the Jurchens had been deflected! Daishan knew these arrows well—three-inch heads weighing three liang, capable of piercing heavy armor within eighty paces when shot from a longbow. Even worse, they had been soaked in horse dung, causing wounds to fester and become life-threatening in the pre-antibiotic era. And yet, many of these “deadly” arrows were deflected by the guards’ armor.

Daishan, experienced in battle, could immediately assess the situation. The training and combat skill of Yue Yang’s men was decent, but far inferior to the Jurchen warriors. The reason they could fight off a larger number of Jurchen soldiers and even gain the upper hand was entirely due to their armor. Often, Jurchen cavalry couldn’t harm them with swords, spears, or knives; only heavy weapons like axes or hammers could knock them down. That gave Yue Yang’s men a huge advantage.

Lost in thought, Daishan didn’t notice Zaisang approaching until he heard a cold voice beside him:

“Daishan Dabeile, aren’t you going to give me an explanation? Why did you order Ao Bai to attack the guests of the Khorchin tribe? Do you realize what this will mean for our tribe?”

Daishan withdrew his gaze and glanced at Zaisang, gesturing toward the ongoing battle:

“Beile Zaisang—” (Zaisang was also a Beile, a title granted by Huang Taiji) “you can see the situation for yourself. Do you think a merchant capable of making such powerful armor is an ordinary man? If such a person isn’t one of ours, it’s better to eliminate him early!”

“Rubbish!”

Zaisang could no longer hold back. His face flushed with anger. “Daishan, I respect you as the elder brother of the Khan, and that’s why I’ve given you some leeway. But if you insist on attacking the Khorchin guests, don’t blame me for being ruthless!”

At that moment, a noisy commotion reached their ears. Both Daishan and Zaisang turned, spotting squads of soldiers armed with spears, swords, and shields running toward the combatants. Their armor gleamed brilliantly in the late-autumn sun. Simultaneously, the sound of hooves echoed from a short distance—another squad of Jurchen cavalry charged forward. The battle was about to escalate dramatically.

Zaisang knew that if he did nothing, the Khorchin tribe’s sheep-herding contest scheduled for tomorrow would be impossible. He might as well prepare to hold funerals for these people.

Glaring fiercely at Daishan, he shouted, “Daishan! Look at the mess you’ve caused!”

With that, he waved his hand. Behind him, Wudamu shouted and led thousands of Mongol cavalry toward the battle.

The sound of thousands of charging horses was far louder than the previous charge of just over a hundred Jurchens. The ground itself trembled under the hooves. Both sides quickly noticed the approaching cavalry. Yue Yang, still observing from the sidelines under Hu Laosan’s protection, tensed. If all these riders charged together, he would be ground into minced meat.

Fortunately, his worry was unnecessary. The Mongol cavalry slowed as they approached. When close enough, the lead riders wielded lariats, which they expertly swung. Mongols had used these since childhood; the ropes flew like guided serpents, ensnaring both the Jurchen soldiers and Yue Yang’s militia. Even Ao Bai, still swinging his tiger-head spear with an arrow lodged in his left arm, had a rope thrown over his neck.

At this moment, Yue Yang’s remaining soldiers finally arrived. Under Hu Laosan’s command, they formed a large square formation. Nearly a thousand additional Jurchen cavalry also arrived, both sides now witnessing the casualties on their comrades. Without orders, the Jurchen began drawing their longbows and nocking arrows; Yue Yang’s infantry raised their spears, crossbows began to be drawn, aiming at a forty-five-degree angle toward the sky. A major battle was about to erupt.

The Mongol commander reacted quickly, shouting in Mongolian. His riders swiftly moved into the center of the battlefield, separating the two sides on the verge of open conflict.

“No one move! Anyone who moves first will be considered an enemy of the Khorchin tribe!” Zaisang’s exasperated voice rang across the field.

After shouting and arguing, Zaisang and Daishan finally reached the battlefield. Up close, they saw hundreds of corpses—both Jurchen cavalry and Yue Yang’s militia—lying thick on the ground. Some were gravely injured, moaning lowly.

Suppressing his shock, Zaisang shouted toward Yue Yang:

“Brother Yue, this was only a misunderstanding. As host, I would never allow the honored guests of Khorchin to be harmed on Khorchin land. You needn’t worry—I will guarantee your safety! Now, please come out and speak with Daishan Dabeile!”

After a while, the faint sound of hooves announced Yue Yang’s arrival at the front of the battlefield.