How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 199 Huang Taiji, Times Have Changed (A long chapter of 5400 words, a total of 1.6 words updated today)
It was the twenty-second day of the first month of the third year of the Chongzhen reign, just past Chen Shi (7-9 AM). The chill air from the north bank of the Sanggan River, carrying sand and dust, seeped straight into one's bones.

Sun Chuanting, draped in a blue robe, stood on a makeshift platform, his telescope pressed against his brow, motionless. Through the telescope, the earthen walls of the Huangshatan fortress gleamed gray in the morning light. Dozens of dark dots moved rapidly in front of the fortress—these were Cao Wenzhao's cavalry, skimming within range of their bows and arrows. Further away, there were musketeers carrying dove-shaped muskets and spearmen wielding long spears, all probing the strength of the Huangshatan fortress.

According to the scouts' report, there were thousands of Mongol laborers working on the site, but when Sun Chuanting led his army slowly over, they only saw a half-finished fortress. It seemed that someone was guarding it, but whether they were actually there or not was unknown.

So Sun Chuanting, Cao Wenzhao, and Sun Yingyuan discussed it and decided to send some men to investigate the situation.

At this moment, several dozen cavalrymen and more than a thousand infantrymen were making a ruckus in front of them to probe the enemy. Before that, they had fired more than a dozen solid shot from several six-pound bronze cannons.

“It’s too quiet.” Sun Chuanting put down the mirror and said to Cao Wenzhao beside him. “I doubt the Mongol Tartars are that patient.”

Cao Wenzhao gripped the hilt of his sword: "They're probably not Mongols, but more likely Jurchens! That son of a bitch Huang Taiji seems to be plotting against us too!"

Before the words were even finished, flames suddenly erupted from behind several inconspicuous mounds in the middle of the fortress, and the muffled sound of cannons took a moment to reach their ears. Several slugs struck the Ming cavalrymen who were firing arrows ten paces away, kicking up clouds of mud and snow.

"Retreat!" Cao Wenzhao's younger brother, Cao Wenyao, shouted sharply at the front of the battle. The Ming troops, who were probing, did not lose their formation and retreated in alternating cover, leaving only a few corpses hit by ricocheting bullets.

Sun Chuanting's knuckles turned white from gripping the telescope so tightly. He could see clearly that the cannons were firing accurately, and there were at least ten of them!
“The fortress is home to the elite of the Eastern Barbarians.” He put down the mirror. “Huang Taiji has made the bait very fragrant.”

Cao Wenzhao spat, "Minister, we can't just stand by and watch ourselves fall into this trap!"

Sun Chuanting's gaze swept over the well-organized wagon camp behind him. The wagons stretched out one after another like a city wall, the mules and horses puffing out white steam, and the artillery wagons rumbling ready to fire.

"We must jump, but not in the same way he does." He raised his hand and pointed northwest. "Shigang, you take all the cavalry, bypass the fortress and head straight for Zhenhai Fort. There are only three thousand Tartars there. You will use the overwhelming force of Mount Tai to coordinate with Governor Yuan's attack from both inside and outside."

He then pointed to the faint outline of an earthen fortress about ten miles to the south: "I led the chariot battalion to retreat to Eagle's Beak Rock, forming a defensive formation with our backs to the Sanggan River. All auxiliary troops withdrew into the fortress, forming a defensive perimeter."

Cao Wenzhao was taken aback: "Minister, are you going to use yourself as bait...?"

“Not bait, but an anvil.” Sun Chuanting interrupted him, a spark of fire igniting in his eyes. “You must be that hammer. Smash the nails outside Zhenhai Fort, and then come back to smash Huang Taiji’s abacus.”

Military orders are absolute. At three-quarters past dawn, Cao Wenzhao's five thousand cavalrymen had already kicked up dust and sped westward. Sun Chuanting's wagon camp began its southward retreat, the wheels rumbling dully as they rolled over the frozen ground.

Thirty miles away in a valley, Huang Taiji was slicing a roasted lamb leg with a dagger. A gyrfalcon flapped its wings on the rack, its sharp eyes fixed on the dripping pieces of meat.

"Your Majesty, the Ming army has moved!" the scout reported from his saddle. "The cavalry are heading west, and the infantry wagon battalion is retreating south towards Eagle's Beak Rock."

The princes inside the tent immediately began to chatter. Amin stroked his beard and sneered, "Sun Chuanting's scared out of his wits, trying to run away?"

Huang Taiji plunged the dagger into the flesh, slowly rose, and walked to the sheepskin map. His greasy fingers traced the bend of the Sanggan River, stopping at Eagle's Beak Rock.

“I’m afraid it’s not running away.” A glint of light appeared in his eyes. “It’s just changed to a more difficult position.”

He turned around abruptly: "Turgh! Take 1,500 elite cavalry from the two Yellow Banners and rush to Yangguli's aid. Don't let the Ming reinforcements succeed so easily."

He then waved to Amin: "Assemble the entire army, join forces with Abatai's tribe, and press towards Eagle's Beak Rock. Before his fortress is secure, surround and kill him!"

The deep sound of bugles echoed through the valleys. The dormant Eight Banners army, like a thawing glacier, poured southward.

At noon, on the wasteland east of Zhenhai Fort, Cao Wenzhao's cavalry encountered Yang Guli's scouts.

Li Hongji led four hundred pistol-wielding cavalry at the forefront. The Eight Banners cavalry habitually spread out on both flanks, their bowstrings drawn taut like full moons.

"Hold on!" Li Hongji's roar was broken by the wind. He could see the hideous tattoos on the Tartar's face opposite him.

Thirty steps, twenty steps... The lead white-armored soldier had already leaned forward and drawn his bow.

"put!"

Four hundred flintlock pistols fired simultaneously. Lead bullets rained down on the Eight Banners vanguard, sending men and horses sprawling. Before the enemy could react, a second wave of gunfire erupted.

Yanguli's main force stirred. They had never seen mounted archery like this before—the unidentified cavalry, after two rounds of fire, didn't linger but turned and rode away.

"Chase!" Yang Guli's whip cracked through the air. More than two thousand riders surged out, chasing the "retreating" pistol-wielding cavalry into a gentle slope.

Suddenly, a piercing whistle sounded from behind the slope. Twelve tiger-squat cannons mounted on light gun carriages emerged from their muzzles, and the gunners were lighting the fuses with matchlock ropes.

"Scatter!" Yang Guli's pupils shrank sharply, but it was too late for his stern shout.

Gravel bullets swept across the meadow like a whirlwind. Although each cannon was loaded with only a hundred small lead bullets, the volley of twelve cannons felled the front cavalry like a sickle cutting down wheat. Warhorses neighed in terror, and the formation was thrown into chaos.

Cao Wenzhao's main cavalry force seized the opportunity to charge in from the flank. A flash of blades, and blood splattered on the frozen ground.

At the same time, the gates of Zhenhai Fort were flung open. Yuan Chonghuan personally led his elite troops out, and Su Tai's Mongol cavalry swept towards the five hundred enemy cavalry surrounding the fort like a whirlwind.

Yang Guli was attacked from both sides and fought desperately to escape. When he finally managed to escape, he counted that he had lost more than 400 cavalrymen, more than 100 of whom were cavalrymen of the Bordered Yellow Banner. The Ming army suffered no more than 100 casualties, mostly from arrow wounds.

When Cao Wenzhao and Yuan Chonghuan met outside the fortress, the setting sun was casting a bloody glow on the rammed earth walls of the fortress.

"Huang Taiji's main force has gone to surround Minister Sun." Cao Wenzhao wiped the bloodstains splattered on his visor. "We need to return to reinforce him as soon as possible."

Yuan Chonghuan looked at the rising dust in the southeast and shook his head: "It's too late. The most urgent task is to strengthen the defense line and form a pincer movement with Eagle Beak Rock."

At the beginning of the afternoon, on the north bank of the Sanggan River, the wind was like a knife, stinging one's face. The ice on the river gleamed with a bluish light, looking solid, but it was sure to crack if stepped on.

Sun Chuanting stood on the earthen mound in the center of the city, looking north. There, the dust was growing larger and larger, like a dirty cloth slowly spreading out, about to cover the sky.

His wagon camp was perched on the high bank of a large bend in the Sanggan River. The wagons were lined up one after another, tightly bound together with iron chains as thick as a child's arm and water-soaked hemp ropes. The wagon platforms were thick and covered with a layer of wet mud, frozen solid, to protect against arrows and fire.

Three layers of chevaux-de-frise were set up in front of the wagon formation, and a shallow trench was dug behind them. The gaps between the wagons were filled with sandbags and hardwood stakes driven into the ground. Eyes were opened on the wagons, and the barrels of muskets and matchlock guns were quietly protruding from there.

Behind the wagon formation, six-pound cannons and general cannons were also set up, with their muzzles slightly raised. "One-nest horn" cannons were also mounted on the side wagons, and dove-foot cannons were also set up, all pointing in the direction the enemy was coming from.

Behind the chariot formation, atop the Eagle's Beak Rock Fortress, which was completed just yesterday, three plumes of black smoke rose straight up, signaling to Checheng that the Datong soldiers over there were ready.

"They're here," Sun Chuanting murmured to himself, his face remaining impassive. He rubbed his numb fingers and said to the flag officer beside him, "Pass down the order: everyone stay at your posts. No firing is permitted until the enemy cavalry is within thirty paces. Anyone who disobeys will be executed."

The flag officer responded loudly and waved his flag. The order spread silently throughout the entire town, like ripples on water. The few voices that had been there just moments before were now gone, leaving only the whooshing sound of the wind whistling through the corners of the flags and the acrid smell of burning matchlocks.

On the high slope to the north, Huang Taiji reined in his horse, squinting as he looked ahead. He was large and stout, wrapped in a thick fur coat, looking like a bear.

The Eight Banners troops lined up behind him, stretching across the hillsides, yet they remained silent. Only occasionally did the warhorses snort, exhaling puffs of white vapor.

Daishan spurred his horse closer and whispered, "Your Majesty, the Ming army's fortified position is very solid, like a hedgehog. Why don't we send our men to charge straight in and test its strength?"

Huang Taiji didn't turn around, and snorted coldly: "Charge? Use the flesh and blood of my Eight Banners warriors to test the Ming dogs' guns and cannons? That Sun guy would love for us to do that." He pointed his whip at the silent wagon town: "Look how many cannons they have. Let those Chahar and Tumed men go first, and then send Han soldiers to escort the bondservants to push the shield carts and deplete the Ming army's ammunition. Tell them that if they fill in the trenches, I, the Khan, will reward them."

The conch shell horn began to blow, its deep, mournful sound sending shivers down one's spine.

The first to move were the Mongol light cavalry. About two thousand men, divided into two groups, like two swarms of locusts startled awake, whistling sharply as they flanked the city.

The sound of horses' hooves was as dense as the beating of drums. When they were about a hundred paces away, the Mongols began to draw their bows and nock their arrows on horseback.

Arrows whizzed by, most landing limply on the carts or falling into the trenches. The cart town remained completely silent, as if everyone inside were dead.

The Mongol soldiers grew bolder and charged forward another twenty or thirty paces. At this distance, their arrows could barely penetrate the wagon formation.

Just then, a piercing clapper sound suddenly rang out from the traffic jam!
"beat!"

Almost simultaneously, a burst of volleys of musket fire and breech-loading cannon fire erupted from the front of the vehicle formation, like popping beans! White smoke billowed out, instantly obscuring everything in front of them.

The Mongol cavalry at the front seemed to be lashed by an invisible whip, tumbling down along with their horses. Those behind, unable to regain their footing, crashed into them, creating chaos with shouts and neighing horses.

The sounds of muskets and harpoons quickly ceased. The wagon formation fell silent again, with only the smoke dissipating in the wind, revealing the wrecked corpses of men and horses scattered on the ground.

The Mongols collapsed and fled even faster than they had come.

Huang Taiji watched from the high slope, his face expressionless. He waved his hand.

The second group of troops set out. This time, it was the Han Bannermen driving the newly surrendered Mongol auxiliary soldiers, pushing more than fifty shield carts. Those carts were made of thick wooden planks nailed together, covered with wet raw cowhide, and looked heavy. The carts creaked and groaned as they moved forward, followed by Mongol infantrymen and Eight Banners archers who hunched over.

There was still no movement from the Ming army's wagon formation. The shield wagons moved slowly, finally managing to get to a position a little over a hundred paces from the trench.

Suddenly, a red light flashed on the earthen mound in the center of the car city!
"boom!"

With a deafening roar, a dark, iron ball, trailing white smoke, flew from the muzzle of a six-pound cannon and slammed into a shield cart. Splinters of wood mixed with blood and flesh flew everywhere, and the shield cart instantly fell apart.

Immediately afterwards, several more cannon shots rang out. Solid shot whistled through the shield-carrying vehicle formation, some even piercing through and taking those hiding behind them with them.

The shield carts that hadn't been hit continued to push forward. They drew closer, and the archers behind the carts began firing upwards, arrows clattering into the cart formation. Occasionally, a muffled groan could be heard, indicating that a Ming soldier had been struck by an arrow.

Sun Chuanting nodded to the flag officer beside him.

The command flag was waved.

Behind the wagon formation, the over 300-pound general cannon, the bronze cannon firing six-pound shells, and the "swarm of rockets" mounted on the wagons opened fire almost simultaneously. The general cannon and the gilded cannon fired shrapnel, hitting a wide area with each shot, sweeping across like lead bullets being poured on water. The swarm of rockets, with a shrill scream, streaked into the crowd behind the shield wagons, leaving trails of fire.

This caused great harm to the archers behind the shield carts, who suffered heavy casualties, and their offensive immediately slowed down.

Abatai rode up to Huang Taiji, his face filled with reluctance: "Khan! Too many of our servants have died filling the trenches! Let our Bayara go!"

Huang Taiji didn't even lift his eyelids, his voice icy: "Wait a little longer, send a few more rounds. Let the Ming dogs fire a few more rounds of artillery, until their cannon barrels are hot, then our men will move in. Look, several sections of the trenches are almost filled in. This road can't be paved in vain."

At 3:45 PM, the sun was setting and the sky was dusky. Huang Taiji finally made up his mind, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

He waved his hand and ordered: "Have all those newly surrendered Mongols and Korean bondservant move forward! Tell them that filling in the last section of the trench will be richly rewarded! Those who retreat will be executed on the spot!"

The mournful sound of the horn rang out once more. This time, emerging from behind the Later Jin army's ranks was a dense, dark mass of ragged people. Like a flock of sheep being driven, under the threat of the Eight Banner soldiers' gleaming sabers, they let out desperate cries and stumbled towards the Ming army's wagon formation.

"Fire!" the Later Jin garrison roared from behind, and a few arrows felled several retreating soldiers, forcing the crowd to move forward.

Inside the Ming army's chariot formation, an officer roared, "Aim—fire!"

The muskets and dove-legged guns roared once more. Lead bullets easily pierced the thin bodies, and cannon fodder fell in droves. The trenches were almost filled with corpses, and blood soaked the frozen soil, turning it into a dark red swamp.

The continuous firing made the barrels of the Ming army's muskets increasingly hot, forcing the musketeers to slow their rate of fire. At the same time, the battlefield was filled with smoke, making it difficult to open one's eyes. Ammunition handlers moved through the smoke, panting as they carried ammunition. The formation was inevitably somewhat chaotic, and the artillery on the position fired slower and slower.

Huang Taiji could see everything clearly from the high slope, and a cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

Just as the Ming army's firepower was beginning to wane from continuous firing, and the smoke on the battlefield was at its thickest.
Suddenly, hundreds of dark figures burst forth from the rear flank of the pile of corpses! Three hundred white-armored soldiers of the Bordered Yellow Banner (Bayala) roared like demons emerging from hell! It turned out that they had taken advantage of the smoke filling the battlefield and the precious opportunity of the cannon fodder drawing the attention and firepower of the Ming army to quickly infiltrate from the flank. They suddenly appeared now and even avoided the muzzles of the Ming army's cannons!

"Bayala! The flank! It's White-Armored Soldiers!" The lookout's voice trembled with extreme terror!
"Quickly! Turn to the flank!" The officer's shout was filled with unprecedented panic.

The Ming army musketeers hurriedly adjusted their firing direction, but the numbness and soreness in their arms and the difficulty in aiming in their haste made the lead bullets they fired increasingly sparse!
The artillery was deployed even slower, and for a time there was no way to aim the guns at the white-armored soldiers.

These heavily armored infantrymen burst forth with astonishing speed, braving sporadic fire as they slammed into the flanks of the wagon formation like hammers! Lead bullets thudded against the iron armor, and while some fell, many more, their eyes bloodshot, charged over the pile of corpses to reach the wagons!

"Boom!" The wheel of a sidecar was cleaved in two by the giant axe! Sparks flew and a piercing groan came from the connecting chain at another point under the heavy blow!
"Spearmen, advance! Block the breach!" A guerrilla general from the Sun family of Daizhou led his personal guards in a valiant charge. A soldier in white armor, without flinching, used his breastplate to block the thrusting spear, then brought his iron mace down with a gust of wind, instantly shattering the general's head! Red and white matter flew everywhere!

The breach instantly became a bloody grinder! The white-armored soldiers were incredibly fierce, often requiring three or four Ming soldiers to work together to hold off just one of them.

"Harden! Hook the horse's leg! Pull the ankle!" the officer shouted hoarsely.

A halberd-wielder risked his life, reaching out with his weapon to hook the ankle of a white-armored soldier, pulling him down with force. Several spears immediately pinned him to the ground. But more white-armored soldiers surged forward, and the gap began to widen.

Even more terrifying, several extremely brave men, with the help of their comrades, managed to scale the wall of the wagon and jump into the formation! With maces swung, more than ten musketeers and gunners were caught off guard and their blood splattered on the spot! Chaos erupted within the formation!
"Reserves! Charge!" Sun Chuanting, who had a clear view from the earthen rampart, spoke in a steady voice, but his hands behind his back clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white. He watched helplessly as his fellow clansman from the Sun family had his head smashed by the enemy chieftain, and his heart trembled.

But he immediately took a deep breath of the biting cold air, forcing himself to regain his composure. His sharp gaze swept across the battlefield, and he issued a series of orders: "Second sentry, riflemen to the left flank breach! Swordsmen, hold the enemy inside the lines! Artillery, fire a hundred paces behind the breach to cut off their advance!"

The Ming army reserves swarmed forward, with swordsmen and shieldmen fighting desperately and spearmen thrusting fiercely, throwing lives into the fray as if they were worthless. After a full quarter of an hour, they finally annihilated all the white-armored soldiers who had broken into the formation. While the bloody battle raged within the Ming army's wagon formation, the artillery finally completed its adjustments, and the shrapnel rained down behind the breach, effectively halting the influx of subsequent enemy troops.

Upon hearing the cannon fire and seeing the orders being swiftly executed, and as the battle gradually stabilized, Sun Chuanting loosened his clenched hands slightly, secretly letting out a sigh of relief, though his expression remained as solemn as iron.

After another half hour, the frenzied attack gradually subsided. In front of the chariot formation, the corpses of the Eight Banners' white-armored soldiers and ordinary heavy-armored dead soldiers were laid out in a thick layer, indistinguishable from the cannon fodder of the Mongols and Korea.

As the sun dipped behind the mountains, Huang Taiji, his face grim, withdrew his troops.

The casualties were tallied, with over two thousand killed or wounded in the auxiliary army. What pained Huang Taiji the most was that nearly one hundred of the three hundred white-armored soldiers were lost, along with over one hundred cavalry and infantry soldiers, most of whom were elite troops.

Inside the Ming army's chariot camp, soldiers silently tended to the wounded and gathered the remains of their comrades. Sun Chuanting stepped down from the earthen mound and saw the mangled body of the young officer. He slowly knelt down, gently closing the younger man's unclosed eyes, his fingertips feeling the cold touch. After a moment of silence, he said in a deep voice to the personal guard beside him, "Give him a proper burial and record his merit. Once the fighting has subsided, send men to escort his coffin back to the Sun family ancestral graves in Datong."

Sun Yingyuan approached, his face grave: "Minister, the casualty count is complete. Over four hundred dead, more than five hundred wounded... Shall we pursue?"

Sun Chuanting turned around, his face pale from the cold wind, but his eyes were terrifyingly bright: "What are you chasing?" He looked towards the lights of the Later Jin camp to the north and the sound of ramming earth. "Huang Taiji, we've fallen into their trap."

He pointed to the battlefield strewn with corpses: "He abandoned his strengths in open field battles, wanting to outlast me in a war of attrition and fortification. This is exactly what I want! Issue the order: starting tomorrow, use this wagon camp as a base to build walls and dig trenches forward, advancing step by step until we reach the Yellow Sand Beach!"

(End of this chapter)