How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 172 Li Zicheng Executes Ao Bai (Seeking monthly votes and subscriptions)
In mid-June of the second year of the Chongzhen reign.

On the grassland south of Daning City, the grass is growing lush and green, stretching as far as the eye can see.

Li Hongji led three hundred cavalrymen, each with two horses, and carefully advanced along the bottom of a low hill.

A night scout slid down the earthen slope in front of Li Hongji's horse and whispered, "Commander, there are Tartars ahead! They're the real Tartars, with yellow-edged banners, and quite a few Mongols too. It looks like there are about 150 or 160 riders, and they're heading this way."

Li Hongji's thick eyebrows furrowed, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes. He licked his slightly chapped lips, turned to the captain behind him, and barked, "Pass on the order, prepare for battle! Take down these Tartars, and give those damned Tartar leaders in Daning City a good beating!"

He patted the two cold, short guns in his arms, steeling his resolve. The Emperor had entrusted him with these fine weapons, not so that he would hide them away.

……

On the other side, Ao Bai, riding a tall horse, felt extremely uncomfortable. This patrol job, in his opinion, was incredibly boring. The Ming army to the south were nothing but a bunch of cowards, only daring to hide in the fortresses along the Kuan and Luan rivers; how could they dare to come out and provoke them?

He was accompanied by about fifty guards of the Bordered Yellow Banner, each a skilled archer capable of drawing a heavy bow. Beyond them were over a hundred Kharachin Mongol cavalrymen, spread out in a wide array.

A Mongolian chieftain approached, smiling obsequiously, "Aobashiku, in this sweltering heat, why don't we find a shady spot to rest our horses?"

Ao Bai glanced at him and snorted, "What's there to rest for? I'd love for a few ignorant southern barbarians to come and amuse me!" As soon as he finished speaking, scouts came galloping up from the front, gesturing from afar.

There is a situation!
Ao Bai was taken aback, then a sinister smile spread across his face. "Are there really people willing to die?" He drew his sword with a swift motion and roared, "Men, form ranks! Same old rules, let them get close and shoot them with arrows! Let those southern barbarians know what close-quarters mounted archery is all about!"

……

In the blink of an eye, Li Hongji's three hundred cavalry had already charged to the top of the hill. In the distance, the Later Jin and Mongol cavalry also spotted them and began to jog and gather.

"Sound the horn! Charge down!" Li Hongji, who had taken the high ground, didn't hesitate for a moment and pointed his saber forward.

A deep, resonant bugle call sounded. Three hundred Ming cavalrymen, like a blue ribbon of water, cascaded down the slope, their speed increasing rapidly.

The Mongol cavalry opposite began to fire arrows. The arrows flew sparsely, embedding themselves in the grass or being deflected by the Ming soldiers' armor.

Ao Bai watched as the Ming army charged forward a hundred paces, then fifty paces, braving the rain of arrows, yet their formation remained perfectly intact, which surprised him. "Oh ho, these southern barbarians are even tougher than the Guan Ning army?" He abandoned his contempt, drew a heavy arrow specially designed for armor-piercing from his quiver, and nocked it onto his powerful bow.

Thirty steps! Twenty steps!
They could already clearly see the Ming general charging at the front of the enemy. He was burly, wearing fine armor and a face shield, and looked like a head servant of the Southern Dynasty.

Fifteen steps! Now!

Ao Bai drew his bow to its fullest extent, the arrow aimed steadily at the Ming general's face. He was an expert at this; at this distance, his arrows were swift and deadly, capable of piercing iron armor, and he had killed countless Ming warriors. He could almost see his opponent fall from his horse, an arrow piercing his throat.

dead!
In the split second before Ao Bai was about to release his grip, he saw the Ming general opposite him suddenly raise his arm, holding a dark, short stick-like object in his hand.

What is that? It's not a musket, is it? It doesn't have a flint.
"Jiang Jurchens! Take this!" The Ming general, who was actually Li Hongji, roared like thunder.

Almost simultaneously, "Bang!!!"

A deafening roar, completely unlike the sharp whistle of an arrow, sounded more like a muffled thunderclap from a clear sky. A burst of fire and white smoke erupted from Li Hongji's hand.

Ao Bai felt as if an invisible, massive hammer had struck his right chest! He could even hear the cracking sound of his bones breaking. The force was so great that he was thrown backward from his horse, and the fully drawn bow went out of aim and flew away with a "whoosh".

"Ugh..." Ao Bai crashed heavily onto the grass, raising a cloud of dust. His eyes were filled with disbelief. How could this be? He was a master of martial arts, destined to become a warrior. How could he have been knocked off his horse by a musket without a flint? He tried to struggle to his feet, but half his body was numb, a tidal wave of excruciating pain washing over him, his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. Was this the end for him?

Fear approached him from all sides.

He desperately wanted someone to rescue him, so he looked around and saw his own men and the Mongols being tossed about by a barrage of gunfire, their bodies scattered and in complete chaos!
Those were the armor of the Bordered Yellow Banner! A full fifty riders, plus over a hundred heroes from the Kharachin Mongols.

They actually lost to three hundred Ming cavalrymen?

As for that Ming general… Ao Bai’s pupils contracted. He saw that the Ming general’s warhorse had been struck in the head by a heavy arrow shot by someone unknown, and both the man and the horse fell to the ground.
"Hahaha..." Ao Bai tried to laugh, but coughed up even more blood. Fine, one life for another...

But before he could finish his thought, he saw that a dozen steps away, the Ming general who had been thrown off his horse had stood up unsteadily. Although he was lame, his mask was off, and his forehead was bruised, his eyes were frighteningly bright and were staring intently at him.

Li Hongji spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, picked up the saber that had fallen to the ground, and walked step by step toward Ao Bai.

Ao Bai tried to touch his knife, but his hand wouldn't obey him; he couldn't muster any strength! He watched Li Hongji approach, his eyes like a wolf eyeing its dying prey. "You...you are..." Ao Bai managed to utter a few words.

Li Hongji walked up to him, his face expressionless, only cold. He raised his foot and stomped hard on Ao Bai's chest.

Ao Bai was in so much pain that he almost fainted.

"Remember this, the one who killed you was your grandfather, Li Hongji!" Before the words were finished, a flash of light appeared!
……

The battle ended quickly!
On the Jurchen side, their commander was killed in action, and they were stunned by a volley of flintlock pistol fire, losing fifty or sixty men in one fell swoop. The Mongols lost their fighting spirit first, letting out a shout and scattering to their deaths. The remaining dozen or twenty Jurchens followed suit, not even daring to snatch Ao Bai's body, and all turned and fled.

Li Hongji, panting heavily, fastened Ao Bai's head—its eyes wide with terror and resentment—to his belt. He glanced at his own dead horse, then walked to Ao Bai's magnificent warhorse. The horse seemed to recognize its former master, pawing restlessly. Li Hongji grabbed the reins and mounted the horse.

"Brothers, take stock of the casualties! Those who can move, come after me! Chase after these defeated soldiers and take a detour around the outskirts of Daning City!"

The Ming soldiers cheered. It was a great battle! Although they lost about thirty brothers, they killed at least sixty or seventy Tartars in battle, and even killed a major leader!

More than two hundred riders followed Li Hongji, chasing after the defeated soldiers, kicking up clouds of dust as they rushed toward the direction of Daning City.

……

The wheat fields outside Daning City were bleached white by the sun. Zhao Si, a bondservant, dragged his lame leg, pacing back and forth on the field ridges, whip in hand, cursing incessantly: "You damned lackeys, you can't even weed properly! If you don't finish before dark, none of you will get any food!"

Kim Seong-in mingled in the crowd, his eyes vacant, mechanically pulling weeds. Ever since he was kidnapped and brought to this harsh land, he had lost his soul, becoming a living dead man who could only breathe.

Suddenly, a muffled rumble of thunder came from the ground. Zhao Si looked up and saw dozens of Manchu slaves of the Bordered Yellow Banner leading about a hundred Mongol soldiers, their helmets askew and their armor askew, fleeing down from the north like madmen.

Zhao Si's heart tightened. He quickly threw down his whip, forced a smile, and bowed deeply: "Gentlemen, what's going on?"

No one paid him any attention. The deserters swept across the field ridges like the wind, heading straight for the city gate. Zhao Si's smile froze on his face, his heart sinking. Before he could even recover, the sound of even faster and denser hooves pressed down on him!

A troop of cavalrymen, clad in both bright and dark armor, charged forward! The leader of the troop had a full beard, and a blood-red gourd-like human head was tied to his belt!

"Damn it!" Zhao Si was so shocked that he turned and rolled into the ditch by the roadside.

Kim Seong-in stood frozen in place. He watched the once arrogant and domineering Jin slaves flee in terror, and watched the Ming army flags fluttering in the wind. His heart, which had been dead for many years, suddenly cracked as if ice had broken.

Li Hongji led the charge, brandishing his sword and shouting, "Set it on fire! Wake the Tartars up!" The cavalry swept through the fields and villages, hacking down anyone they saw and setting fire to any tents they encountered. Haystacks and huts crackled and burned, filled with cries and the sound of horses' hooves. Several rockets were fired at the felt tents below the city walls, billowing black smoke.

Zhao Si peered into the ditch and saw Jin Chengren still standing there dumbfounded when a Ming soldier raised his sword and slashed at him! "You idiot! Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Zhao Si, with a burst of energy, leaned over and dragged Jin Chengren into the stinking ditch.

"Don't make a sound! Play dead!" Zhao Si whispered, his whole body trembling. He dragged Jin Chengren along the ditch deeper into the wheat field. Smoke filled the air, and the firelight turned the sky blood red.

They hadn't climbed far when they came across a headless corpse lying by the ditch. Judging from the clothes, it was a North Korean bondservant, and blood was still oozing from its neck. Zhao Si's eyes hardened, and he reached out and scooped up a handful of warm blood, smearing it all over himself and Kim Song-in's faces.

"Lie down! Hold your breath!" He pressed Jin Chengren down tightly, shouting urgently with his mouth close to his ear, "Wake up! Where did these heavenly soldiers come from to save us! See the braid on the back of our heads? That's the Tartar mark! A head equals a military merit!"

Before the words were even finished, three cannon shots boomed from the direction of the Da Ning city gate! The heavy city gate swung open with a deafening roar, and a golden dragon banner was raised high, fluttering in the smoke. Beneath the banner stood a general clad in silver-white scale armor—none other than Beile Dorgon! He personally led a large contingent of white-banner cavalry, pouring out of the city gate like a flood bursting its banks. These elite Zhennu soldiers, all clad in iron armor, their horses' hooves thundering like drums, their killing intent soaring to the heavens.

"It's the Prince! The entire cavalry of the Two White Banners has come out!" Zhao Si breathed a long sigh of relief. "We're saved! We're saved!"

On the edge of the ditch, Li Hongji reined in his warhorse, squinting at the white tidal wave sweeping in. Far from being afraid, he threw his head back and burst into thunderous laughter: "Hahaha! Looks like an even bigger boss. You'd better catch this big gift today, grandpa will come back for it another day!"

After saying this, he spat out a mouthful of blood, raised his knife, and shouted: "Brothers, the gift has been delivered, let's get out of here!"

The Ming cavalry moved at the command, quickly regrouping at the sound of whistles. They skillfully turned their horses, not forgetting to fire a volley of arrows at the fleeing bondservant servants before galloping south, disappearing into the distance. Their movements were swift and decisive, without any hesitation.

Having narrowly escaped death, Kim Seong-in lay prone in the blood and mud, his face pressed against the cold earth, watching helplessly as the Jurchen general beneath the brocade dragon banner angrily brandished his sword and pointed south, while a large contingent of elite white-armored cavalry and Mongols in fur robes gave chase, seemingly unable to catch up.

Zhao Si's curse, the blood on his face, the raging fire before his eyes, the deafening cannon fire, the brutality of the Ming soldiers, and the suffocating brocade dragon banner—all of this was mixed together and was taken in by Kim Song-in, the Korean scholar. He really couldn't understand how he and his Korean nation had been drawn into such a bloodthirsty war.

(End of this chapter)