How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 173 Cao Wenzhao's Great Battle with Dorgon (Third Update!)
In the sixth month of the second year of the Chongzhen reign.

The current in the upper reaches of the Liao River has slowed down, and the earthen slopes on both banks are covered with waist-high grass. The old elm grove on the west bank is so dense that it could hide an entire army without being seen.

Cao Wenzhao reined in his horse and stood beneath the shadows of the trees on the high slope. He was clad in dark iron-colored armor with a red-tasseled helmet pulled low, revealing only a pair of calm eyes fixed intently on the north. His gaze swept across the clearing in front of the woods—more than twenty newly erected tiger-squatting cannons stood silently in formation. These cannons were quite different from the old ones: the barrels were cast from high-quality bronze, gleaming with a dark sheen, and the caliber appeared larger. They were all securely mounted on ironwood cannon carriages with two wheels. These were powerful weapons manufactured under the supervision of Sun Yuanhua, the head of the Ministry of Works in charge of the Beijing Garrison's artillery factories, using Western methods. They were lightweight and sturdy, and could be pulled swiftly by two mules. Today, the Tartars would have a taste of them.

Dust billowed high on the northern horizon.

"They're here." His voice was low, as if he were talking to himself, or perhaps to the guards beside him.

Deep in the forest, more than 2,700 elite cavalrymen, all with gags in their mouths, made not a sound.

……

On the east bank, Li Hongji led about two hundred cavalrymen, their helmets and armor askew, charging straight to the Liao River. He glanced back at the dust kicked up by the pursuers and spat out a mouthful of spittle mixed with sand.

"Cross the river! into the woods!" he roared, and was the first to spur his horse down the riverbank. The water barely reached halfway up the horses' legs before the cavalry followed, splashing water high into the air, making the column look utterly disorganized. Some of the more nimble ones casually tossed their tattered flags and empty quivers onto the bank.

They scrambled up the west bank, soaking wet, and plunged into the elm grove.

On the eastern horizon, a large contingent of cavalry, escorting a golden dragon banner, slowly approached. Benedictine Beeldorgon, though not yet a child, possessed a pair of narrow eyes that shone with a sinister light unlike those of a young boy. He was flanked by his younger brother Dodo and the general Suksaha.

Seeing the remnants of the Ming army flee into the woods, Dodo shouted first, "Fourteenth Brother! Look at the cowardly state of these southern barbarians! Aobai actually fell into the hands of such scum? Quickly give the order to pursue them!"

Dorgon remained silent, his face cold, as he glanced at the messy riverbank and the deep woods. Suksaha said in a low voice, "Your Highness, the west bank is deep in the forest and treacherous; be wary of traps. Perhaps we should let the Mongols from Tashkhai cross the river first to scout ahead, while we remain on the east bank to provide cover, allowing us to advance or retreat as needed."

Dorgon nodded slightly, then turned to the Mongol Taiji Tashhai and shouted, "Tashhai Taiji! Have your Uriyangkhai warriors cross the river and seize them! The Baturu of the Two White Banners will hold the line for you—today we will surely crush these southern barbarians and use their general's head to appease Aobai!"

Tashhai's face bore the arrogance of a steppe warrior as he drew his sword and pointed it towards the opposite bank: "Warriors! May the Eternal Heaven protect us! Charge across the river and show those southern barbarians the might of the steppe eagles!" A thousand or so Kharachin cavalrymen roared as they charged down the riverbank, scrambling to enter the Liao River. Meanwhile, the elite troops of the Bordered White Banner held their ground on the east bank, bows drawn and arrows ready.

……

In the elm grove on the west bank, Cao Wenzhao squinted. He watched as the Mongol soldiers waded across the river in a chaotic frenzy, scrambling to climb ashore, their armor soaked through, frantically trying to reorganize their ranks.

"Artillery, prepare." His voice was as steady as a branding iron.

At the command, the gunners ripped off the twig camouflage from the cannon. Working in groups of four, they efficiently operated the cannon. The match cord was brought close to the fuse.

On the riverbank of the Liao River, the Mongol soldiers had just gathered when Tashhai, who was leading the charge, was about to brandish his sword and shout for them to charge forward.

Cao Wenzhao's arm suddenly slashed downwards!

"put!"

The guards shouted the order at the top of their lungs.

"Boom! Boom boom boom—!"

More than twenty bronze tiger-crouching cannons exploded in succession! The sound waves were like muffled thunder, making people's chests numb. At this time, the Mongol cavalry at the forefront had rushed to within twenty or thirty paces. This distance was exactly the distance at which they could begin to accurately snipe with their proud mounted archery. They could even see the faces of the Ming army artillerymen in front of them and began to draw their bows and nock their arrows.

However, instead of an equal barrage of arrows, they were met with a rain of scorching iron that was barely visible to the naked eye, spewing from the muzzle of a cannon!

Between twenty and forty paces, the deadly zone was where the shrapnel's power was at its peak! Hundreds of lead pellets barely spread, sweeping across the Mongol cavalry ranks like an invisible iron broom. At this distance, arrows might pierce iron armor, but the shrapnel from the tiger-squat cannon directly turned men and horses into bloody messes!
The contrast was stark: the Mongols' renowned mounted archery might not have been able to penetrate the Ming army's fine armor; while the Ming army's modified Tiger Mound Cannon—essentially a heavy shotgun—at the same distance, with a thunderous roar, completely shattered their charge. The Mongol soldiers at the forefront felt as if they had been struck head-on by a rain of scorching iron. Hundreds of lead pellets, no bigger than a little finger joint, rained down at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye—this wasn't a targeted attack from arrows, but a devastating barrage!
The mournful neighing of warhorses drowned out the shouts of men. Lead bullets pierced leather armor and shattered bones; even if they didn't kill a man immediately, they were enough to incapacitate him. Tashhai Taiji's flag snapped in two, and he and the flag bearer behind him were struck by lead bullets, tumbling from their horses to the ground, rolling and screaming in agony on the riverbank.

The riverbank instantly became a slaughterhouse. Those who weren't directly hit were either thrown off their horses by the frightened warhorses or driven mad by the hellish scene before them, dropping their knives and running around wildly.

Before they could even react, the improved Tiger Mongol cannons, which had just fired a round of grapeshot, unleashed another volley, a dark mass of lead bullets sweeping towards the disorganized Mongols.
The echoes of the cannon fire were still reverberating in the valley when a deafening battle cry erupted from the elm grove!
Cao Wenzhao took the lead, raising his saber high, and led his more than two thousand main cavalry, who had rested and were full of energy, to charge out from the flanks where they had been lying in ambush! They drew two arcs along the riverbank, and their muskets were aimed at the Mongols who had not yet fallen from their horses, with deadly accuracy.

Almost simultaneously, Li Hongji, who had "escaped" into the woods, turned around and charged out with more than two hundred brothers who were responsible for luring the enemy! All the anger he had been holding back all the way exploded, and he killed with even more vigor, like a hungry wolf pouncing on its prey.

Attacked from three sides! The Mongol troops who had crossed the river were completely thrown into chaos. Stunned by the cannon fire, their flanks suffered fatal blows, and then cavalrymen armed with flintlock pistols charged in and "shot them face to face," collapsing in an instant. Men and horses trampled each other, crying and screaming, desperately fleeing to the east bank of the Liao River.

……

On the east bank, Dorgon's cold expression instantly turned to shock and anger, tinged with a hint of fear. He had seen cannons before, but this was the first time he had witnessed such a dense volley of artillery fire! What was even more alarming was that the enemy had reloaded and fired a second volley so quickly after the first round of bombardment—this rate of fire was simply too fast! Before Dorgon could react, the enemy cavalry surged out in droves!
"You despicable southern barbarians!" Dodo roared in fury, drawing his sword and shouting, "Fourteenth Brother! Charge forward with the entire army to avenge them!"

"Shut up!" Dorgon shouted, interrupting his good brother.

He understood perfectly well: the Mongols on the other side of the river were finished, and even if he immediately joined the Two White Banners cavalry, it would be of no use. Moreover, he still didn't understand what those high-rate-of-fire cannons were all about. He absolutely couldn't take any risks, or he would become the second Ao Bai.

Therefore, he understood that after losing Ao Bai's life, he had once again been defeated by the damned Ming army.

An immense humiliation weighed heavily on Dorgon's heart; his teeth were practically ground to powder, yet he still managed to squeeze out a single sentence: "Send the order! Sound the retreat!"

Suksaha immediately shouted, "The Prince has ordered! Sound the retreat! Withdraw the troops!"

"Clang, clang, clang!" The piercing sound of gongs rang out from the two white-flagged main camps. Arrows rained down from the east bank onto the west bank, catching up with the Mongol remnants who were tumbling and crawling back.

Seeing that the situation was favorable, Cao Wenzhao immediately ordered the gong to be sounded. The Ming cavalry retreated without lingering for battle.

Li Hongji, caught up in the killing frenzy, wanted to pursue them across the river, but was stopped by Cao Wenzhao's personal guards: "Commander Li! Military order! Retreat!"

He angrily reined in his horse and spat fiercely towards the east bank.

The Ming army quickly cleared the battlefield. Cao Wenzhao gave a special order: "The artillery will go first, and the cavalry will bring up the rear!" The gunners, in groups of several, raised their shovels, attached their mules and horses, and dragged more than twenty cannons that had rendered meritorious service into the forest.

Cao Wenzhao rode his horse to the riverbank, where Li Hongji greeted him. His face was covered in blood and sweat, but he grinned and said, "General! That was a great battle! The new cannons are really awesome!"

Cao Wenzhao glanced at him, his face expressionless, and simply nodded: "That was impressive, and the credit goes to you." He paused, gazing at the blurry shadows beneath the golden dragon banner on the east bank, and said with a hint of regret, "Now that we've cleaned up, let's retreat!"

Soon, the Ming army, carrying their spoils and the heads of the Tartars, vanished without a trace.

……

East of the Liao River, on a high ground some distance from the riverbank, Dorgon watched as the Ming army retreated completely, leaving not a trace, only headless corpses and devastation along the riverbank. A tightness gripped his chest, and he abruptly turned his horse around:
"Back to the city!"

This battle resulted in the loss of hundreds of Mongol soldiers, with no merit achieved, and instead, the Ming army laid a brilliant ambush on their own doorstep. Ao Bai's revenge was not achieved, and he suffered a new humiliation. The image of those more than twenty "rapid-fire wheeled cannons" was deeply etched into his mind.

(End of this chapter)