Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 473 Disturbance (Part 3)

On the fifth day of the ninth lunar month, Shengjing was already immersed in the chill of autumn, and the morning mist was slightly cool.

In the bronze crane incense burner of Chongzheng Hall, the sandalwood incense burned weakly, and the smoke broke into fine dust in the breeze, just like the mood of everyone in the hall at this moment.

Huang Taiji sat on a throne covered with a black bear skin, holding Dorgon's letter of appeal between his knuckles; the edges of the letter were wrinkled from sweat.

"Nearly 100,000 troops at the front, are they about to collapse again?" He asked in a low voice, his throat hoarse as if it had been sanded.

The military reports piled on the table were still seeping blood. They were urgent documents from the commander of the Red Banner Niru. A corner of the letter was stained with dark red blood, and the ink had smudged. The words “Ming army’s red-coated cannons fired more than 300 rounds a day, and seven camps at Rufeng Mountain were destroyed” were particularly glaring.

Sony, who was standing by, quickly stepped forward: "Master, in Dorgon's letter, he said that the Ming army added several more Xinzhou firearms battalions yesterday. Their cannons are even more powerful than the ordinary red-coated cannons. The Deer Horn Moat of the Bordered Blue Banner was blasted open with a gap more than ten feet wide."

As he spoke, he glanced at Huang Taiji's sleeve, where a piece of blood-soaked white silk was hidden. The emperor's nose had started bleeding again when he was reading the letter.

Huang Taiji clenched the letter tightly, his knuckles turning white: "Summon all the princes, beile, and ministers to the Chongzheng Hall for a political meeting!"

Half an hour later, the princes and ministers who remained in Shengjing filled the Chongzheng Hall.

Prince Li, Daishan, leaned on a gold-inlaid cane, his white beard frosty.

He had just returned from Liaoyang yesterday, and the soles of his boots still bore the marks of the journey.

Prince Wuying, Ajige, had not had time to remove his armor, and the scratches on the armor were clearly visible.

Turge, the Gushan Ejen of the Bordered Yellow Banner, held his waist knife, the sharkskin on the hilt gleaming with sweat.

"Dorgon wants reinforcements..." Huang Taiji threw the letter on the table, the paper fluttering as it fell. "But besides the four thousand mobile troops in Shengjing, Liaoyang, and Fushun, do we have any other soldiers we can mobilize?"

The hall was deathly silent, except for the wind outside that whipped up fallen leaves and made a whistling sound as they hit the vermilion pillars.

Daishan spoke first, tapping his cane on the blue bricks: "Your Majesty, it's not that I'm contradicting you. These four thousand bannermen are our last remaining mobile force; we must not move them lightly! The Liaoyang city wall is only half-finished, and the moat of Shengjing hasn't frozen solid yet. If we withdraw them..."

"If we don't draw blood, the Jinzhou front will collapse!" Huang Taiji interrupted him, his voice suddenly rising, and the white silk on his sleeve was stained red again. "We won't even have a chance to defend the city walls!"

He coughed violently, and Sony quickly handed him some warm water, but he waved it away, shattering the porcelain bowl into eight pieces on the ground, and the hot water splashed onto his boots.

Ajige stepped forward, the armor plates clanging together with a crisp sound: "Your Majesty, please calm your anger. It's not that I'm unwilling to send troops, but the bandits in Liaonan Town just occupied Yaozhou half a month ago, which is only a few dozen miles from Haizhou. Shen Shikui of Dongjiang Town is building a city in Yizhou (present-day Sinuiju, North Korea), and scouts along the Yalu River have already reached Fenghuang City. If the Ming troops in these two places learn that Shengjing is undefended..."

"They dare!" Huang Taiji slammed his hand on the table, the dragon carvings digging painfully into his palm. "From the sea to Shengjing, it's three hundred li, requiring crossing the Liao River and traversing the Qianshan Mountains (south of Anshan today). Do you think the Ming army has any guts to dare to sneak over here?"

He suddenly began to breathe heavily, and the veins on his forehead throbbed.

Sony rushed forward to support him, only to see blood seeping from the emperor's nostrils again, dripping onto the corner of his bright yellow robe, like a mournful flower blooming.

"Master!" All the princes knelt down in unison, the clanging of their armor making the floor tiles tremble.

Turgh crawled a few steps on his knees: "This servant is willing to lead the bondservant slaves of the Bordered Yellow Banner to the front line! Although they are not armored soldiers, they can still hold spears and form ranks!"

"Boatmen?" Huang Taiji pushed Sony aside, leaned on the table to stand up, and said, "Dorgon wants Bayara who can charge into battle, not slaves who carry hoes!"

He walked into the hall, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "Have you forgotten what happened at Sarhu? Fifty thousand against one hundred thousand, we won. It wasn't because we had more people, but because we were willing to risk our lives!"

Daishan raised his head, the tip of his cane carving a deep mark on the ground: "But back then, the old Khan was strong and healthy, now..."

He didn't say anything more, but everyone in the hall understood.

During a political discussion last month, the emperor suddenly fainted. After examining his pulse, the imperial physician privately remarked that it was because his "heart blood was depleted and he could not withstand the strain."

"I know my own body best!" Huang Taiji pulled open his collar, revealing the bulging veins on his neck. "If we lose this battle, I won't be able to close my eyes in peace, even when I'm in my coffin!"

He grabbed a curved knife from the table. "Is this the knife? When the old Khan swore an oath to attack the Ming Dynasty, he used it to kill the Ming supervisor! Now that our Eight Banners soldiers are shedding blood in Songjin, how can I, the Khan, cower in Shengjing and wait?"

Fan Wencheng's eyes reddened: "My lord, you are the foundation of the Qing Dynasty! What if something goes wrong at the front..."

"There's no room for 'what ifs'!" Huang Taiji's voice was resolute, a drop of blood dripping from his nose onto the floor tiles, spreading into a small red dot. "I brought not just four thousand armored soldiers, but the soul of the Eight Banners! As long as Dorgon and his men see me here, they'll dare to fight the Ming army to the death!"

He paused, his gaze falling on Daishan. "Prince Li, you will stay in Shengjing and protect this home for us."

Daishan suddenly looked up: "Does the Emperor really intend to personally lead the expedition?"

“Yes!” Huang Taiji walked to the map and pointed heavily at Songshan. “Three days later, I will lead four thousand armored soldiers. The defense of Shengjing is in your hands.”

"That Liaoyang..."

"Draw three to five hundred men from Haizhou and Hetu Ala to reinforce Shengjing and Liaoyang." Huang Taiji's finger traced the Liao River on the map. "Tell the wives in the city to polish their armor and prepare their children's swords. If the Ming army really comes, let them see that the women and children of our Eight Banners are not to be trifled with!"

Turgh suddenly cried out, "Master! This servant is willing to go to war with you!"

"You stay," Huang Taiji shook his head, "lead the remaining three hundred Bordered Yellow Banner guards to help Prince Li defend Shengjing. Remember, no matter what news you hear, you must guard the city gates well."

He looked at Sony, "Send a decree to Dorgon, saying that I will arrive with reinforcements in three days, and that he must hold on for three more days no matter what!" Sony hesitated, "My lord, should we have the imperial physician examine you first? Your nose is bleeding..."

"No need!" Huang Taiji waved his hand, turned and walked towards the back hall, the bloodstains on the hem of his robe leaving a dark red mark on the blue bricks.

As everyone watched his retreating figure, they saw that he would lean against the wall every few steps, his shoulders trembling slightly, but he never turned around.

Daishan picked up the letter from the ground, and on the back was Dorgon's scrawled handwriting: "The Ming army's cannons are raining down, and grain is piled up like mountains. Grain ships are arriving in an endless stream at Bijia Mountain..."

He sighed and handed the letter to Turg: "Get ready, do as the master says."

Turger took the letter, his fingertips touching the bloodstain, and suddenly felt it burning hot.

The wind outside the palace grew stronger, whipping up the broken porcelain shards on the ground and making a soft, rustling sound, like someone sobbing quietly.

That night, the gates of Shengjing remained open all night.

The soldiers assembled under the stars and moon, their horses' hooves shattering the silence of the streets.

Huang Taiji summoned Grand Consort Zhe Zhe to Qingning Palace, where she was directing the palace maids to stuff sable fur rugs into her luggage.

"After I leave, let the wives of each banner take turns visiting the Eight Gates..." Huang Taiji touched his wife's hand, which was covered with thin calluses from years of twisting thread. "Tell them that while men bleed on the front lines, we must take good care of our homes in the rear."

Zhe Zhe's eyes reddened, but she didn't cry: "Your Majesty, rest assured, I have already had my servants prepare several cartloads of arrow shafts. If the Ming army dares to come, let them taste the power of the Eight Banners women."

She took out a jade pendant from her makeup box, with the words "Peace" engraved on it. "Wear it. I asked the Grand Lama to bless it."

Huang Taiji took the jade pendant, put it close to his body, and suddenly began to cough violently.

Zhe Zhe hurriedly handed over the handkerchief, only to find that the snow-white silk handkerchief was instantly stained with blood.

She covered her mouth, tears finally streaming down her face: "How about... we let someone else go?"

Huang Taiji shook his head and hid the handkerchief in his sleeve: "I must go to this battle."

He gazed at the starry sky outside the window, the Big Dipper faintly visible through the clouds. "Back then, I fought alongside the Khan, always hoping to prevent the Manchu bannermen from going hungry. Now, almost twenty years later, our people are still shedding blood beyond the Great Wall..."

"Master will win." Zhe Zhe held his hand, her palm icy cold.

At dawn the following day, the bell tower in Shengjing rang out the bell for the expedition.

Huang Taiji, clad in heavy armor, rode a white horse, the bronze plates of his armor gleaming coldly in the morning light.

Four thousand armored soldiers were arrayed in neat square formations, their spears like a forest, their banners obscuring the sun.

Daishan led the officials who remained behind to kneel by the roadside, watching the procession slowly leave the city, the dust kicked up by the horses' hooves still mixed with the lingering frost.

Huang Taiji glanced back at the city gate of Shengjing, where Zhe Zhe and a group of consorts stood, their figures blurred in the morning mist.

He suddenly remembered his father Nurhaci's dying words: "Always keep one arrow in your hand... save it for last..."

But now, he has no choice but to shoot all his arrows.

He reined in his horse, drew his saber from his waist, the blade gleaming coldly in the morning sun: "Let's go!"

The troops advanced along the banks of the Hun River, the sound of their footsteps making the frozen ground tremble.

Huang Taiji's nose started bleeding from time to time, so he would cover it with a handkerchief. He went through handkerchief after handkerchief, each one stained red.

A guard tried to ask him to dismount and rest, but he glared at him and said, "Tell the vanguard to speed up!"

At this moment, on the Songjin battlefield, Dorgon was standing on the north mountain gazing into the distance.

The Ming army's camps stretched for dozens of miles, with wisps of smoke rising from their chimneys and the occasional boom of the new barbarian cannons.

The Gushan Ezhen of the Bordered White Banner beside him was panting heavily: "Beile, our armored soldiers are almost wiped out, and only 40% of the Niru of the Plain White Banner are still capable of fighting."

Dorgon touched the letter pouch at his waist, which contained the third letter requesting aid from Huang Taiji.

He gazed at the flock of geese on the horizon and suddenly laughed, "They're almost here, the reinforcements are almost here."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a scout rode up on horseback, holding a yellow flag high: "Your Highness! The Great Khan has personally led reinforcements and has crossed the Liao River!"

Dorgon suddenly stood up straight, his armor plates making a crisp sound.

In the distant Ming army camp, the cannons continued to roar, but he seemed to hear the sound of horses' hooves coming from the direction of Shengjing. The sound grew closer and closer, like the beating of war drums, echoing for a long time in the wilderness beyond the pass.
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(End of this chapter)