MLMD -Chapter 88 A Cold Feeling

Seeing the scene, Zaisang’s expression immediately changed. He squatted down and gestured with his fingers. The wound on the corpse’s chest was only about the width of two fingers. Zaisang then turned the body over and gasped sharply—the corpse’s back had a hole the size of a fist.

Witnessing this, it wasn’t just Zaisang who felt a chill; even Udamu and several other Mongol commanders standing nearby drew in sharp breaths. To pierce through three layers of padded armor—that required tremendous force.

Zaisang stood up and looked around. Surrounding Yue Yang were soldiers all holding firelocks. He asked in a deep voice, “Nephew Yue, are all these corpses on the ground killed by firelocks?”

Yue Yang nodded. “Exactly.”

“Whoosh…” Zaisang exhaled sharply, astonished. “The firearms of the Ming… are actually this lethal?”

Zaisang thought for a moment, then glanced at Yue Yang and Hailanzhu. His eyes gradually brightened. Just as he was about to speak, urgent hoofbeats sounded behind them. Soon, more than ten cavalrymen clad in white helmets and armor appeared at their side. After dismounting, they strode toward Yue Yang.

Leading them was a very young commander, only around twenty-one or twenty-two according to Yue Yang. He had a rare, square-shaped Manchu face and small eyes that shone with a cleverness far beyond his age. When his gaze met Yue Yang’s, a brief glint of sharpness flashed before vanishing as their eyes passed each other.

However, the young commander trailing behind him, even younger, glared at Yue Yang as if he were a mortal enemy, radiating a deadly intent. Seeing the intense hatred from the younger commander, Yue Yang guessed that this was most likely the same Dodo he had just fought.

The leading commander approached, bypassing Zaisang entirely, and stopped in front of Yue Yang, who stood beside Hailanzhu. In a deep voice, he spoke in Chinese:
“If this Beile’s guess is correct, you must be the lucky fellow who plucked the most beautiful flower of the Kerqin Grasslands.”

Yue Yang looked around, then touched his nose and replied, “If the flower you speak of is the beautiful young lady beside me, then that would be me. But if I’m guessing correctly, most people would probably just call me the guy who got lucky.”

“Oh?” The commander did not expect Yue Yang to speak like this. He looked at him with some surprise, then slowly nodded. “Hmm, indeed. It seems we underestimated you. No wonder Fifteenth Brother was defeated by you. It appears your victory wasn’t entirely due to luck. Allow me to introduce myself—I am Dorgon. The troublemaker who challenged you earlier was my incompetent Fifteenth Brother.”

“Oh?” Although Yue Yang had been prepared, he was still slightly surprised. He studied this historical figure carefully, as if trying to examine him from head to toe. Even Dorgon felt a bit unsettled. Finally, unable to endure it any longer, Dorgon cleared his throat:
“Mr. Yue, do you perhaps have any grievances against this Beile?”

“Grievances?” Yue Yang was taken aback, then shook his head with a smile. Earlier, Dorgon’s sudden loss of composure reminded him of a TV drama he had once seen, The Secret History of Empress Xiaozhuang, in which the man before him shared a notable and moving story with Empress Xiaozhuang. If the occasion were different, he might have asked Dorgon outright whether he had ever been involved with his sister-in-law.

But Yue Yang quickly realized something: those who leave a name in history usually have a talent for spinning events in their favor. Dorgon looked at Yue Yang intently before saying, “Mr. Yue, what happened just now was the result of Fifteenth Brother’s rashness. The fault was indeed ours. I will punish him severely upon our return. I hope you will not take offense.”

“Punish?” Yue Yang sneered. Dorgon truly lived up to his reputation for cleverness—a single word, ‘rash,’ was enough to sweep the entire incident under the rug. Yue Yang was about to speak when Hailanzhu gently tugged at his sleeve and gave him a pleading look.

He remembered that he had come to marry a wife. With his future father-in-law present, there was no need for him to press the issue—Zaisang would naturally handle it. Pushing the matter further would only be disadvantageous.

With this in mind, Yue Yang reluctantly nodded. “We’ll settle this account another day. For now, let’s return to the tribe. After all, I’m here to marry a wife.”

Hearing this, Zaisang, Udamu, and the other Mongol commanders finally relaxed. Zaisang had worried that if Yue Yang pressed Dodo’s responsibility, it would cause trouble—after all, Dodo was a Beile of Later Jin and brother to Huangtaiji. Even Zaisang could not punish him. Yue Yang’s decision was the correct one.

Although Dodo wished he could tear Yue Yang to pieces, he was not foolish; he understood that the current outcome was the best possible. Yet he silently resolved that, in the future, he would make this Ming barbarian suffer.

“Ha ha ha…” Seeing Yue Yang agree to set the matter aside, Zaisang laughed. “I knew my son-in-law wouldn’t disappoint me. Truly magnanimous!”

Zaisang said, “Nephew, this time you were startled. It’s rare for you to be so generous and not pursue the matter. Rest assured, they will provide an explanation—Bumubutai, don’t you agree?”

At Zaisang’s words, a beautiful plump lady in tribal attire stepped forward gracefully from behind him and nodded at Yue Yang. “Abu is right. We will give you an explanation.”

“This is…” Yue Yang hesitated and looked at Zaisang.

Zaisang laughed heartily. “I forgot to introduce her. This is Bumubutai, Hailanzhu’s younger sister. She is a consort of the Later Jin Khan, here to pay a home visit by imperial order and to attend your wedding with Hailanzhu.”

“Ah, the arrival of the princess consort—my apologies for the oversight!” Yue Yang masked his curiosity about this future Empress Xiaozhuang with a respectful bow, thinking: Well, today both Dorgon and the future Empress Xiaozhuang have met me.

With introductions complete, Zaisang quickly said, “All right, let’s return to our business later. For now, everyone, let’s go back.”

The battlefield was chaotic, littered with dismembered bodies after the great battle. Following Zaisang’s words, Yue Yang and Dorgon’s group began tallying casualties and clearing the battlefield in preparation to return to the Kerqin tribe.

Soon, the casualties were counted. Among Yue Yang’s cavalry, eighty-seven were dead, and over one hundred sixty wounded. Infantry casualties were lighter, with just over ten injured. Dodo’s side lost more than five hundred men, almost all dead, with only about twenty, including Dodo, escaping. The casualty ratio reached a staggering 5:1. This shocking disparity astonished even Zaisang, Udamu, and the other Mongol commanders.

“Dodo, how did you fight this battle? Over five hundred warriors perished, yet you only killed fewer than a hundred of the enemy? Are these Ming troops gods descended to earth?” In a remote corner, Dorgon’s face was as dark as the bottom of a pot, while Dodo looked miserable.

Dodo explained solemnly, “Fourteenth Brother, we did our best. The fault lies with those Ming dogs. They did not engage us head-on but hid behind the circle formations, firing with their firelocks. Many of our warriors were shot dead.”

“Firelocks?” Dorgon glanced at Dodo. Arriving late, he hadn’t seen the battle firsthand. His expression grew stern as he asked, “Explain this in detail.”

“Yes!” Dodo recounted the battle thoroughly, emphasizing the firelocks’ long range. “Fourteenth Brother, truthfully, I’ve faced the Ming before. Their firelocks are generally prone to bursting, cumbersome to reload, and with a short range—usually only effective at forty or fifty steps. But today, the Ming dog’s firelocks shot astonishingly far—able to pierce armor at three to four hundred steps. Most of our warriors were killed before even reaching them. Their deaths were wasted… wuwuwu…” Dodo finally broke down and wept.

Dorgon’s face grew grimmer. If Dodo were not his brother, he would never have believed it. How could such lethal weapons exist? He strode to a cart filled with the bodies of slain Manchu warriors.

Pulling open the chest armor of one, he saw a blood hole the size of half an egg. Turning the corpse, the hole on the back was already the size of a fist. The firelock’s power was terrifying—through-and-through wounds no doctor, mortal or immortal, could heal.

Examining several more bodies, Dorgon found that while the bullet impacts varied, the wounds were strikingly similar. He drew in a cold breath.

“Could the Ming firearms really be this deadly?”

A chill suddenly ran through Dorgon’s body, and at that moment, he felt extremely cold…