MLMD -Chapter 85 The Fierce Jurchens

Waves of white smoke rose into the air, taking on a hazy, indistinct quality under the midday sun. Jurchens who had fought the Ming army countless times all knew exactly what this scene meant—it was the smoke produced when Ming firearms were discharged.

The Ming army had a long history with firearms. As early as the Hongwu era, they had begun to see widespread use. The most famous example was the Divine Engine Battalion established during the Yongle reign, whose three-stage volley firing method was renowned far and wide. It was precisely with the power of these firearms that the Ming army had once driven the previously invincible Mongol cavalry into a panicked rout.

However, by the late Ming period, as the state’s finances collapsed and official corruption ran rampant, Ming firearms gradually fell into decline as well. Supervisors cared only about embezzlement, while the craftsmen who produced the weapons could barely fill their stomachs. As a result, more than half of the firearms they made would burst during firing. Eventually, whenever the Jurchens saw the Ming army fire their weapons, they treated it as nothing more than a free fireworks show.

What the Jurchens had forgotten, though, was that sometimes even free spectacles came at a price.

As the white smoke dissipated, a scene that left Dodo staring in disbelief unfolded. More than a dozen cavalrymen charging at the very front seemed as if they had been struck by some invisible force—one after another, they were flung from their horses. One rider at the very front was hit so hard it was as though he had been kicked with full force; his entire body flew up from the saddle, only to be trampled underfoot by the horses charging in from behind.

“This is impossible…”

Dodo shrieked, his voice sharp and piercing, like that of a castrated rooster.

“How could Ming dog firearms shoot this far?”

At that moment, Dodo felt his entire worldview begin to crumble. From his position at the rear, he could see clearly that when the Ming fired, the distance between their formation and the Jurchen cavalry was well over three hundred paces. How could firearms possibly reach that far?

“Order those slaves to keep charging! I’ll rip out those Han dogs’ intestines piece by piece and hang them all!” Dodo’s face darkened instantly. In that brief moment just now, more than ten Jurchen warriors had been knocked from their horses. There was no need to imagine what came next—under the crushing hooves of the charging horses, they would be reduced to bloody pulp.

In fact, even without Dodo’s orders, Gerutu, who was leading the charge, not only failed to slow the cavalry down but sternly commanded those behind to accelerate, desperately trying to close the distance with the Ming formation.

“Men! Faster! Charge up to those Ming dogs and kill them all!”
As a Niru officer of the Plain White Banner, Gerutu was no fool. He was a seasoned battlefield commander. Though he was equally shocked by the unexpected range of the Ming firearms, his long experience fighting the Ming told him one thing clearly: firearms were slow to reload. Once they had fired, it would take a long interval before they could fire again. That interval would give them ample time to rush the Ming lines. As long as they could close to within fifty paces, they could suppress the Ming with powerful bows and sharp arrows—after that, it would be a one-sided massacre.

Da Niu squatted behind a supply wagon, gasping for breath. That single shot he had just fired felt as though it had drained every ounce of strength from his body. To be honest, he had no idea where his shot had gone. He only remembered all the blood rushing to his head; then, after the centurion and squad leader shouted “Fire!”, he pulled the trigger in a daze—and then… then he remembered nothing.

“Smack—”

Something kicked hard against Da Niu’s thigh, and a voice rang out right by his ear.

“You idiot! Get up and get to the back to reload your musket, now! Hurry up! If you can’t load the powder and lead ball within thirty breaths, I’ll shove the musket up your asses!”

Including Da Niu, nearly a hundred musketeers were kicked and beaten by their officers as they were driven to the rear. Almost immediately, another team of musketeers stepped forward to take over their original positions.

“Prepare… aim… fire!”

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

As the second team advanced, accompanied by billowing white smoke, another volley rang out. Once again, more than ten Later Jin cavalrymen were knocked from their horses.

“Third team forward… prepare… fire—”

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

Three volleys in succession not only left forty to fifty corpses of Later Jin cavalry strewn before the formation, but also snapped Gerutu out of his earlier frenzy.

“Quick! Dismount immediately! Everyone spread out! Use shields for cover and advance!”
Standing at the center of the formation, Gerutu shouted at the top of his lungs. His battlefield instincts told him at once that although they were now only two hundred paces from the Ming lines, if they continued charging recklessly on horseback, they would be lucky to have even a hundred men left by the time they reached the enemy.

The Later Jin cavalry truly deserved their reputation as one of the most elite and ferocious forces of the age. Despite the sudden blow, they did not collapse. Upon receiving the order, the remaining two hundred-plus riders swiftly dismounted, took shields from their saddles to protect their fronts, spread out, and pressed toward the circular formation.

“Young master, the Tartars haven’t retreated? They’re attacking!”
Inside the circle, Shunbao pointed ahead and shouted as the Jurchens advanced steadily toward them.

“Mmm. Worthy of the Jurchen Tartars—truly fierce.”
Yue Yang nodded slowly. Of the more than three hundred Later Jin cavalry who had attacked, over fifty had already been killed, yet they had not broken. Instead, they immediately dismounted and continued their assault under shield cover. Their battlefield awareness and reaction speed far surpassed that of his own troops. Yue Yang estimated that if he had not equipped his infantry with muskets, those thousand-plus raw recruits would have collapsed instantly under such a charge.

However, seeing the enemy dismount and advance with shields instead put Yue Yang’s mind at ease. He spoke calmly, “Shunbao, since the Tartars have dismounted, it’s our turn to stretch our legs. Signal Wu Chengfeng—tell him it’s his time to move.”

“Yes, sir!”

Shunbao answered, pulled a small signal flare wrapped in red paper from his robe, lit it with a tinder, and set it off. A red streak shot into the sky, soon exploding with a loud bang high above.

“Bang—”

“Lord Wu, Lord Yue has given the signal!” a rider shouted loudly at a spot less than a li from the circular formation.

“I see it!”
Wu Chengfeng smiled faintly, a glint of cold light flashing in his eyes. He drew the long saber at his waist and roared, “Brothers, the infantry brothers have already scored an opening victory. Now it’s our turn—charge! Kill!”

“Kill—!”

“Charge—!”

Thunderous hoofbeats soon echoed across the grassland. The thousand cavalry who had been guarding both flanks of the circle immediately surged forward, slashing toward the Later Jin troops in front of the formation.

“Not good—Gerutu is in danger!”
The moment Wu Chengfeng’s cavalry moved, Dodo, overseeing the battle from the rear, knew things had gone wrong. He grabbed a guard by the collar and roared, “Blow the horn at once! Order them back—retreat immediately! Otherwise they’re all finished!”

Having grown up on horseback, the Jurchens knew all too well that when a dismounted force engaged in combat was caught in a pincer attack by superior cavalry from both sides, there was only one possible outcome—total annihilation. No matter how brave or stubborn that force might be, such an encirclement meant certain death.

“Woooo—woooo—woooo—”

The mournful sound of horns soon echoed across the battlefield, but Dodo’s order came too late. Wu Chengfeng’s cavalry had already enveloped the protruding Jurchen force from both left and right. Amidst thunderous hoofbeats and roaring shouts, a brutal melee erupted.

“Hah—kill!”

Wu Chengfeng’s saber flashed past the neck of a Later Jin soldier, and a spray of red blood burst half a meter into the air. Without slowing, Wu Chengfeng urged his horse onward toward his next target.

“Thud—!”

A dull sound came from behind him. He glanced back to see a rider following close behind struck by a heavy axe, man and horse collapsing together onto the ground.

“Keep charging! Don’t stop!” Wu Chengfeng shouted. For cavalry, mobility was everything. Once they lost speed, their large, slow-moving bodies would become easy targets for infantry.

The thunder of hooves continued to roll on. All around, warhorses screamed and soldiers cried out in agony. The Jurchen cavalry led by Gerutu truly lived up to their fearsome reputation. Even dismounted and facing a cavalry charge, their ferocity remained undiminished. Under the leadership of elite armored troops, many household retainers and accompanying armored soldiers launched frenzied counterattacks against the charging riders.

They formed small groups of three to five men, fighting back with bows, long sabers, and spears, constantly harassing the cavalry. In contrast, by this point, the shortcomings of Wu Chengfeng’s cavalry training began to show. Many riders slowed after being harassed, and some even stopped to grapple with the Jurchens in close combat—falling directly into the kind of fighting rhythm the Jurchens excelled at.

Although Wu Chengfeng’s cavalry wore the Gothic-style armor that Yue Yang had carefully prepared for them, such armor was not invincible. When struck by heavy weapons, its weaknesses quickly became apparent. Many riders were speared or slashed off their horses, only to be smashed by axes and war hammers that followed. Under such attacks, few survived.

Watching a thousand of Wu Chengfeng’s cavalry locked in a bitter stalemate with fewer than two hundred Jurchens, the onlookers within the circular formation all sucked in a sharp breath. This outcome was something no one had expected—that the Jurchens, with only one-fifth the numbers, could fight their cavalry to a standstill. It was truly astonishing.

“It seems we still underestimated the Tartars’ strength,” Yue Yang said grimly as he observed the battle. He quickly raised his voice, “Shunbao, order Wu Chengfeng to withdraw! Infantry from the circle, advance immediately and form up—we’ll decide this battle with the Tartars head-on!”

“Young master, this—”

“Carry out the order!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Dee-dee-dee-daa-daa—”

Soon, a clear and piercing bugle call rang out across the battlefield…