Ming Dynasty 1627

Chapter 187 Slaughter and Rewards

The sky was not yet fully bright.

The horizon was a taut, bluish-black line.

The wind is the master of this grassland now; it comes from afar, howling across the withered grass.

silence.

Deathly silence.

Suddenly, the earth began to tremble slightly.

It was a very regular, muffled sound coming from deep within the earth.

A creeping shadow arched out from the dark blue line.

That was a cavalry unit.

They seemed to have grown out of the frozen earth, silent and still, with only the sound of horses' hooves crushing the frost forming a suppressed undercurrent.

The undercurrent was directed towards dozens of tents scattered in the wind.

There were no bugles, no war cries.

This battle was not a plunder, but a massacre.

When the first sentry was awakened by the strange noise outside the tent and looked up from beside the burnt-out campfire, an arrow was found piercing his forehead.

Before he could even utter a scream, his body went limp, and warm blood instantly splattered across his face.

A rain of arrows poured down, and hundreds of precise and deadly venomous bees buzzed as they burrowed into every tent.

The sounds of fabric tearing, heavy objects falling, and a suppressed dying groan rang out almost simultaneously.

The cavalrymen poured into the tribe, the arc of their scimitars gleaming sharply in the dim morning light.

A man who had just picked up a scimitar had his wrist cleanly severed. He stared blankly at his severed hand, and before he could even cry out, his head flew off.

An old man had just picked up his bow and arrow when a spear pierced his chest, pinning his grandson to the ground as well.

Blood wasn't spilled, but rather flowed from the corpses like water from a turned-on faucet, soaking the frozen ground beneath their feet into patches of dark red mud.

The screams of women and the cries of children finally broke the silence before dawn, but were quickly drowned out by the sounds of new killing.

A Mongolian nobleman clad in iron armor stood on a gentle slope, silently observing everything.

The horrific scene of the massacre did not cause his gaze to waver in the slightest.

He was Ligdan Khan's brother-in-law, and the commander of this Chahar cavalry force, Guiyingqia.

……

The battle ended quickly.

When the last man who tried to resist was pierced through the throat by a spear and lifted up like a tattered sack, the tribe fell completely silent.

A general, covered in blood, rushed up the gentle slope, dismounted, and knelt on one knee.
"Eh! Everyone who dared to take up arms was killed."

"The spoils were not much: 587 sheep, 47 cattle, and 187 horses. But they were all skinny animals that wouldn't keep you full."

He spat, his face full of contempt.

"The most valuable items were actually two bolts of satin from the south; the rest couldn't even be found for silver."

Another officer joined in, his tone revealing his disappointment:

"They are too poor! They can't even gather enough food for the winter. They only managed to find four cartloads of wheat. There are eighty-nine men and three hundred and forty-eight women and children left."

Gui Ying finally turned her gaze away and looked at the crowd.

"What's the rush? Once we've crushed Qingcheng, will we still need to rob these poor bastards?"

He grinned, his eyes filled with indifference.

“I’ve heard that the spires of the pagodas there are made of gold, and the grasslands of the Chule River are even more fertile than the pastures of our entire Chahar.”

"Tens of thousands of Han people farmed there, and they could harvest hundreds of thousands of bushels of grain a year."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, and a flame of greed was ignited in everyone's eyes.

"The women there are more tender than the fattest lambs. If you run fast enough, you can change three a day."

The soldiers let out beast-like growls, their breathing heavy, as if they could already smell the blood and the riches.

"Crush Qingcheng!"

"Rob their food and their women!"

Just as everyone was immersed in their fantasies about wealth, a small feathered arrow flew crookedly over and landed limply on the ground in front of Gui Yingqia with a "thud," trembling weakly.

All voices fell silent.

Not far away, a boy of about six or seven years old was standing next to his father's body, holding a small rabbit-hunting bow, trembling all over.

After a brief moment of surprise, the surrounding soldiers burst into even louder laughter.

"Ha! The little wolf cub wants to bite too!"

Gui Ying's smile vanished.

He looked quietly at the child and uttered a few words:

"A disobedient wolf deserves to die in winter."

Before the words were finished, the bowstring twanged softly.

The arrow was shot, and the man fell.

The boy had a bloody hole between his eyebrows, and he fell straight down, dying beside his father.

Guiying put away her bow, her face expressionless, as if she had simply crushed an ant.

He turned his horse around and gave orders to his generals:
“Arrange for some people to transport the prisoners and cattle back.”

“Choose two more people, cut off their ears and noses, and send them to the Tumed tribe to deliver a message. Tell them that this is what will happen if they do not submit.”

"The rest of the people..."

Guiying turned his horse around and laughed loudly:

"Come on! Follow me to the next place!"

The crowd responded in unison, their voices like muffled thunder.

They no longer glanced at the corpses on the ground, nor paid any attention to the cries of the prisoners; a cruel excitement appeared on everyone's face.

Guiying took the lead, her horse's hooves kicking up blood-stained grass and mud as it galloped away into the distance.

Behind him, hundreds of cavalry followed closely, forming a black torrent of iron that flowed silently across the vast grassland.

It was still early; the slaughter had only just begun.

……

After a day of fierce fighting, with several tents destroyed, Guiying finally led his troops back to camp.

It was already dusk, and the western sky was ablaze with a magnificent, fiery red.

Guiying squinted as she watched the enormous red sun sink below the horizon.

He liked this color; it resembled blood and gold, and it was full of the taste of conquest and harvest.

Sensing its master's will, the mount beneath him let out a loud neigh and increased its speed even further.

The dust kicked up by the horses' hooves, like a yellow dragon, rushed straight towards the huge camp ahead.

He didn't even bother to wait for the camp gate to open completely; his steed shot through the barely open gap like an arrow.

The herdsmen blocking the way panicked and dodged. Those who were a step too slow were whipped on the back by his henchmen and let out a muffled groan.

Gui Ying turned a deaf ear to this. On this grassland, the cries of the weak were the battle song of the strong.

The camp was as chaotic yet vibrant as ever.

The stench of horse manure and the sour smell of cheap milk wine, mixed with the noise of women and children, created a symphony unique to the grasslands.

He could feel the gazes directed at him—awe, envy, and a hidden greed beneath the surface of humility.

These gazes gave him satisfaction.

He was Lindan Khan's sharpest knife; the more blood he drank, the more appreciation he gained from his master.

And this appreciation will bring him more and more subordinates, so that he can drink more blood.

After passing several huge tents, the golden-topped white tent belonging to Ligdan Khan appeared at the edge of the field of vision, like a crouching white behemoth.

(The attached image is for illustrative purposes; a real camp would have been surrounded by various large carts, not this loosely constructed. However, the cavalry passage is plausible.)
Guiying dismounted, casually tossing the reins to the approaching servant Xiguxi. He straightened his dusty armor and strode inside.

As the curtain was lifted, a warm breeze carrying the scents of milk wine, roasted meat, and rich spices wafted out.

Unlike the hustle and bustle outside the tent, the inside of the large tent was surprisingly quiet.

A dozen or so tribal chiefs were seated on either side. Although they were drinking and eating meat, their laughter and conversation were kept low, and they seemed somewhat distracted.

As Guiying entered, everyone immediately turned to look at her.

The firelight danced on their faces, reflecting their diverse thoughts.

Gui Yingqia's gaze passed over them and landed on the tall figure reclining on the tiger-skin throne at the head of the table.

Two beautiful women nestled in his arms like docile cats, one massaging his shoulders and the other feeding him sliced ​​mutton.

This is their king, the master of tens of thousands of archers in Chahar—Lydan Khan!

"May you, the God of Gods, the All-wise Genghis Khan, be blessed with good fortune and fulfillment!"

Gui Ying knelt on one knee, her loud voice breaking the silence inside the tent.

Lin Danhan's gaze slowly fell on him, his deep eyes revealing no emotion, but after a moment, a smile appeared on his lips.

"My 'Blood Eagle' is back. How did things go?"

"Reporting to the Great Khan! The seven disobedient tents have been wiped off the grasslands. I have also sent their tongues to the west; I believe the Shunyi King of the Tumed will appreciate this gift."

Gui Yingqia's answer was concise and bloody.

"Good!" Lin Dan laughed heartily. "Let's have some wine and meat!"

Guiying picked up her wine glass, drank it all in one gulp, sat down in her seat, grabbed a roasted lamb leg, and began to devour it without any hesitation.

He could feel that with his arrival, the tension inside the tent seemed to have increased even further.

He glanced at the vassal leader out of the corner of his eye, a cold smile playing on his lips.

These people are like sheep in a pen; they only learn to obey when they see the wolf's fangs.

A moment later, the tent flap was lifted again.

However, it belonged to Ahagushan Ejen, Agula, who was under the name of Empress Dowager Nangnang.

After the usual "May you be blessed" greeting, he reported:

"We only captured three tents today, and seized more than 500 sheep and more than 100 horses! The main reason was that we encountered the Tumed cavalry in the middle, and fought a probing battle, losing more than a dozen men."

Lin Dan's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, then quickly relaxed:
"Wolves travel thousands of miles to eat meat; how can they not be injured? Bringing back the prey is a merit. Here's some wine; sit down and eat!"

Agula was overjoyed and expressed his gratitude.

The atmosphere inside the tent was slightly more relaxed.

But this relief didn't last long.

Another leader burst through the door; it was Sangharzhai Jinong, the leader of the Arakchot tribe, a vassal state of Chahar.

His face was ashen. After entering, he bowed to Lin Danhan and said with barely suppressed anger:

"Great Khan! Today, I led my men westward and ran right into the Tumed cavalry! Those sons of bitches, relying on their numbers, chased and bit us like mad dogs!"

He slammed his fist on the floor and said bitterly, "We didn't get a single thing, and we lost more than a hundred of our good men!"

Lin Danhan's hand holding the golden cup froze in mid-air, the smile on his face completely vanished, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

He did not react immediately, but instead drank the mare's milk wine in the cup in one gulp, slamming the golden cup heavily on the table with a dull thud.

“Sanghar Village,” Lindan Khan began, “are you saying that the warriors of my Chahar are inferior to the cavalry of the Tumed?”

Sangharzhai Jinong was jolted awake, realizing that his words had been emotional. He immediately knelt down and said, "Great Khan, I dare not say such a thing! The Tumet people are cunning and bully the weak with their numbers! Please, Great Khan, see the truth!"

Lin Danhan sneered, "Agula lost more than ten men but brought back cattle and sheep. You lost more than a hundred men but only brought back shame."

"The rule passed down by Genghis Khan! Those who plunder cattle and sheep will have wine to drink and meat to eat! Those who return empty-handed are worthless!"

He looked at Sangharzhai Jinong, who was kneeling on the ground, and coldly gave his order.

"Since we lost, we must be punished."

"I'm punishing your tribe by sending one hundred households to Agula. Let him teach your people how to be wolves that bring back prey!"

Are you convinced?

Upon hearing this, Agula's eyes instantly gleamed with greed and delight. He quickly lowered his head to hide the wide grin that was about to spread across his face.

Sangharzhai Jinong's face turned pale and then red, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

One hundred households! Damn it, another one hundred households!

Since he followed Ligdan Khan westward, he had seen this kind of slow, insidious tactic many times.

Today, this tribe lost many people, so a dozen or so households were moved away; tomorrow, that tribe had a bad hunt, so some more were moved away.

After being scattered and fragmented, the strength of these outer tribes has been weakened considerably.

All the benefits went to the Chahar main force. The tough and arduous battles were all fought by these outer vassal states.

Damn it! If I had known it would turn out like this, I would have just followed Aohan and Naiman and joined the Jurchens in the east! I wouldn't have had to suffer this humiliation here!

His mind was in turmoil, filled with rage and curses, but what could he say? What dare he say?
In the end, he simply lowered his head even further and replied in a muffled voice, "...I have no objection."

Gui Ying watched the performance in the center of the tent, where the master and slave were clearly distinguished, and a hint of mockery flashed in her eyes.

The strong are respected, and the weak are preyed upon; this is the law of the grasslands.

But this Khan preferred to use the methods of the Southern Dynasty emperors, playing tricks that involved concealment and deception!

Why not just swallow him whole?!

This emperor really does look more and more like Yuan Shao from the Three Kingdoms period.

Guiying chewed the mutton vigorously, her gaze once again turning to the deep night outside the tent.

Sangharzhai is being "taught" now. Who will be next?

But it doesn't matter, it will never be him, Guiyingqia, who is being taught!
……

Soon, one by one, the leaders arrived.

After exchanging greetings and offering their blessings, they each reported on the day's achievements.

Lindan Khan either rewarded or punished them, and quickly made the arrangements.

When the last person arrived, the tent was already packed with dozens of leaders from various departments.

At the very front were six richly dressed women. They were Ligdan Khan's wives and concubines, and also the actual leaders of his six core Gushan (chieftains).

Below them are the trusted confidants of the Chahar headquarters, and the more powerful or close leaders among the outer vassals.

According to their relationship with the person, everyone took their seats and looked at the man sitting high on the tiger-skin chair in the center of the tent.

(End of this chapter)