How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 211 The Tartars are coming soon! Emperor Chongzhen, what should we do?
The moon is dark, the wind is high—a perfect night for murder!

Fifteen miles east of Qiangzi Ridge lies Heigujian, where the dried-up riverbed resembles a pale scar, twisted against the inky black shadows of the mountains.

Suksaha crouched behind a large rock, chewing on dried meat. He was the Bayaradao Ejen of the Plain White Banner, not very old, but his face was full of fierce flesh and murderous intent, and his eyes gleamed with a fierce light in the shadows.

Buyantu Taiji leaned closer and lowered his voice: "Tao'ezhen, the Black Valley Pass is just ahead. At the top of the cliff is Ming Gou's Black Valley Platform."

Suksaha didn't turn around and swallowed the last bite of meat.

"Have you decided on the way?" he asked coldly.

“No doubt about it!” Buyantu patted his chest. “I’ve been hunting foxes in these mountains with my father since I was ten. There’s a wild path that leads to the bottom of the wall. It’s a bit steep, but people can climb it.”

Suksaha then turned to look at him.

This Taiji of the Doyan tribe had a smile on his face, but his eyes were filled with hatred—hatred for the Ming Dynasty! When the Ming army massacred the city of Daning, he was a hostage in the stronghold of the Kharachin Mongols and escaped death. Now, he was single-mindedly thinking about revenge!

What Suksaha wanted was this hatred in him; only with hatred could he fight desperately.

"Let your men lead the charge. If they run into trouble, they'll be the first to tackle it," Suksaha said crisply.

Buyantu's face stiffened for a moment, then he nodded: "Yes, sir!"

About two hundred people moved like ghosts across the riverbed. Their hooves were wrapped tightly in thick cloth, making only a soft rustling sound as they stepped on the gravel.

The further you go in, the narrower the valley becomes.

The cliffs on both sides were dark and looming, as if they were about to collapse upside down.

Suddenly, a soft "crack" sound came from ahead, followed by the "gurgling" sound of a stone rolling down.

In this deathly still valley, any movement seemed particularly jarring.

Everyone froze instantly.

Voices immediately came from the Black Valley Beacon Tower atop the cliff.

"What's that noise?" a sleepy voice called out.

Then there was a flickering light, as the defenders were shining torches down.

Buyantu's expression changed, and before Suksaha could speak, he took a deep breath and tilted his head back.

"Ouch——"

A mournful wolf howl escaped his throat, echoing through the valley.

He howled several more times, imitating the sound perfectly.

There was a moment of silence on the cliff top.

Then came a curse: "Damn it, it's a lone wolf! It scared the hell out of me!"

The torchlight flickered and then receded.

Suksaha slowly exhaled, turned around, and glanced at the white-armored soldier who had made the noise. He was a servant of Dorgon Beile, and most of the white-armored soldiers who had followed Suksaha over the wall today were servants of this kind.

The soldier's face turned deathly pale, and he didn't dare to lift his head.

Suksaha didn't speak, but simply made a light gesture with his hand across his neck.

The soldier shuddered and lowered his head even further.

"Let's go," Suksaha ordered in a low voice.

The team started moving again, even faster than before.

When we reached the foot of the cliff, looking up, the broken wall revealed its menacing outline in the dim light of the day.

“This is it,” Buyantu pointed to a section of wall that had mostly collapsed. “There’s a gap you can climb up through.”

The soldiers in white armor remained silent, quietly taking out grappling hooks and ropes. Their movements were swift and skillful.

They clung to it like geckos, silently.

……

On the beacon tower in Heigu, the Ming army sentry on night duty, wrapped in a tattered cotton-padded coat, dozed off against the battlements.

General Zhao Shizhong emerged from the outhouse, pulling up his trousers and cursing, "This damn weather, it's freezing me to death..."

He hasn't finished speaking yet.

Several dark figures suddenly climbed over the ramparts!

It landed without a sound, then flashed with the light of a blade.

The sentry dozing at the gate went limp without uttering a sound.

Zhao Shizhong was so shocked he almost jumped out of his skin; he opened his mouth to shout.

A short crossbow bolt whizzed into his throat.

He clutched his neck, hissing, and blood gushed from between his fingers.

Chaos erupted on the stage. Dozens of guards were jolted awake from their sleep, and before they could even touch their swords, they were cut down by the white-armored soldiers who pounced on them.

This is no longer a war, it's a massacre.

Zhao Shizhong was still alive, his eyes fixed on the beacon tower. There were piles of firewood and grease there.

Blood bubbles rose from his throat as he used his last bit of strength to crawl toward the beacon tower.

One step, a pool of blood.

A soldier in white armor saw this, grinned maliciously, and came over with his sword.

Zhao Shizhong lunged forward, grabbed the soldier's leg, and bit down!
The soldier cried out in pain and brought his sword down hard.

Zhao Shizhong's back was slashed open, exposing the bones.

But he wouldn't let go, and with his other hand he grabbed wildly, knocking over a torch that landed right next to the firewood.

With a "boom," flames shot up! Thick black smoke billowed out!
"Damn it!" The white-armored soldier was both shocked and furious. He slashed several times before finally breaking free.

He rushed over and stomped on the fire, covering it with soil, and finally managed to put it out.

But the smoke had already risen into the sky.

……

At the main pass of Qiangziling, You Shiwei didn't sleep a wink all night.

He stood straight in the enemy tower, looking north.

"Commander!" the lookout suddenly shouted, "Black Valley Terrace! Smoke! It rose and then went out!"

You Shiwei rushed to the window.

Far away, in the direction of Heigutai, a wisp of smoke was slowly dissipating.

His face turned livid instantly.

"It's broken," he squeezed out through gritted teeth.

The captain of the personal guards leaned closer: "Sir, is there a fire?" "Fire my foot!" You Shiwei gritted his teeth, "We've lost the platform! The Tartars have still managed to sneak up!"

It was expected that the Miyunwei Great Wall would fall—in fact, if Huang Taiji had been willing to go all out, even the Jizhen Great Wall, which Emperor Chongzhen and Sun Zushou had invested heavily in, would have fallen. What could have been held were the fortresses scattered at various crossroads and strategic points (some were bastions, some were not). How could a two-hundred-year-old wall stretching for thousands of miles be impregnable everywhere? How many people would it have taken to guard it?

You Shiwei turned around abruptly, his voice resolute.

"Send the order!"

"Sir Sun, all the skyrockets, aim at the two hundred paces in front of the pass and smash them down! Use up half their ammunition!"

"The infantry battalions, in the order of A, B, and C, will take turns providing cover and withdraw to Shixia Camp!"

"My personal guards, come with me to the western mountain ridge!"

The orders were passed down one after another.

The wall immediately sprang into action. The previous deathly silence was replaced by tense activity.

Sun Yuanhua's face turned pale upon receiving the order, but he still carried it out immediately.

The cannons roared again, more intensely than before. Shells rained down on a fortress two hundred paces from the pass—a fortress built from shattered shield carts, earthen mounds, and the corpses of bondservants, a forward outpost for the Later Jin army's attack on Qiangziling. A barrage of cannon fire would at least slow down the Jurchen offensive.

Soon, the large contingent of Ming troops began to retreat in an orderly fashion. The ranks remained disciplined, but the speed was rapid.

You Shiwei donned his armor and picked up his large sword.

"Let's go!" He led his two hundred servants toward the low mountain ridge to the west.

That place is key to holding off the enemy on the flanks.

……

On a distant high slope, Huang Taiji lowered his telescope.

He saw the smoke that flashed and then disappeared, and he also saw the changes in the Ming army's positions.

"It's done." His face showed no joy, only coldness.

"Haug".

"Your subject is here!" Hauge quickly stepped forward.

"Press the line! Fan Wencheng, Fan Wencai, take all the Han bannermen and those bondservant huts, charge!"

"Tell them that Qiangziling has fallen! Those who climb first will be registered and rewarded with one hundred taels of silver! Those who retreat will be killed without mercy!"

"Whoo!"

The sound of the horn became urgent and shrill.

Outside Qiangziling City, the Later Jin soldiers, who had been suppressed by the Ming army's artillery fire, suddenly roared when they heard the bugle call and saw their master's flag pointing forward.

Fan Wencheng's heart was pounding as he rode his horse.

He knew it was time to risk his life.

He drew his sword and shouted to the chaotic crowd behind him, "Breaking through the pass is just around the corner! Follow me and charge in! Gold, silver, and women are all yours!"

His brother, Fan Wencai, also shouted, his voice trembling.

Zhao Si was swept along by the crowd and involuntarily ran forward.

Kim Song-in followed behind Sonny and Murima, who were overseeing the battle, and together they stepped into the legendary, insurmountable Great Wall.

He noticed a few drops of blood splattered on the booklet at some point, and he quickly tried to wipe them off with his sleeve, but the more he wiped, the more blood appeared.

The Eight Banner soldiers and bondservants in front of him cheered and danced with excitement, as if they could immediately rush into Beijing, which was piled high with gold and silver, and seize the Ming emperor's empire.
For the first time, he felt that following the Great Jin Dynasty as a bondservant might actually be a way out!
The news of the fall of Qiangziling was not delivered to the capital by fast horse and flag on the official road.

At first, it was just a rumor, but somehow it spread.

"Have you heard? The north... Qiangziling, it's going to be tough!" In the teahouse, a merchant who had just entered Guangning Gate whispered to an acquaintance, his face still showing the panic of being on his way.

"Really? Isn't General You in charge there?"

"General You is in grave danger too! They say the Tartars have infiltrated the pass and many people have died!"

"That's utter nonsense! It's definitely just a rumor!"

The listener verbally refuted, but the teacup in his hand remained motionless for a long time, and his eyes already showed some belief.

The more the story spread, the more distorted it became, and the more believable it sounded. From "a small group of Tartars sneaked in" to "the pass was lost," then to "General You died in battle" and "the Jurchen army is heading towards Changping." Each mouth added its own embellishments. The panic didn't rely on official documents, but on street gossip, slowly spreading in alleyways, markets, and inns.

Next came the buying frenzy, which didn't cause a big commotion, but it started.

Those who were well-informed and extra cautious were the first to become alert.

"Dad, how about... we buy more rice and flour? I heard things aren't going well up up north..." the woman whispered to the man, clutching her purse.

The man glared at her and cursed, "What do you know, you old woman?" but he still moved his feet toward the grain store.

There were a few more people than usual at the entrance of the grain store. The shopkeeper, still trying to sound tough, said, "It's alright, we have plenty of grain. Just tell me how much you need..."

The people buying grain didn't say a word, silently handed over the money, picked up their sacks, and left. Meanwhile, the price of grain quietly rose by 10%, then 20%. By the afternoon, the price of unpolished rice had indeed increased by 30%.

Then, the money shops started to suffer.

In times of chaos, gold is a safe haven, and silver is also acceptable, but banknotes are certainly not a safe haven.

"Go to the money exchange immediately and exchange all the bills for cash!" the boss ordered, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

The money exchange clerk noticed a sudden increase in people withdrawing cash. At first, it seemed normal, but then something was amiss. The silver was leaving the counter quickly, and the inventory in the vault was dwindling. The manager, sweating profusely, told his clerks to slow down while smiling apologetically at a regular customer: "Don't worry, our bank is well-funded and has plenty of silver… If you leave some in the bank, we'll give you an extra half-percent interest, okay?"

Most people who came to redeem their money shook their heads, their eyes revealing their unease. The money exchange hadn't collapsed, but everyone could see it was already on its last legs, teetering on the edge. Credit can crumble very quickly.

Then, more and more people started preparing to flee.

There aren't many people actually moving south with their families, but there are many more who are planning to flee.

The mule and horse market and the cart dealerships suddenly became bustling. It was no longer just about hiring a cart here and there; most people were inquiring about chartering a cart or buying livestock.

"Go to Tongzhou? No, no, we'll have to go further, to Baoding or Hejian Prefecture!"

"How much is this mule? It was eight taels yesterday, and today it's twelve taels? Why don't you just rob it!"

"This is the price! Think it's too expensive? It'll go up later this afternoon!"

The car dealership owners and brokers wore a mask of excitement, and raising prices on the spot became commonplace. Decent mules, horses, and carts in the city were quickly sold off. Many families began secretly packing their valuables, and although the people hadn't moved yet, their readiness to leave at any moment was already evident.

The most critical thing was that people were panicking. It had been countless years since the city of Beijing had seen the Tartars about to besiege it.

When neighbors gathered together, they no longer talked about daily necessities, but about the Tartars breaking through the walls.

Those small and medium-sized landowners who owned dozens or hundreds of acres of land near Beijing began to feel uneasy. The buyers who had previously asked around to find out if there was any good land for sale had all vanished. The market seemed to have been drained of buyers; it disappeared instantly. The land sale posters were still up, but not a single person could be found to inquire about prices.

The same goes for houses. The real estate market, which was bustling a while ago, is now deserted. It's not that no one wants to sell; it's that no one dares to take over at this critical juncture. Everyone knows in their hearts: if the Tartars really attack, houses and land—things that can't be moved—will just be a pile of bricks and mortar.

The streets of Beijing looked the same as always. The hawkers' cries hadn't stopped, and the carriages and horses continued to move as usual. But if you looked closely, everyone's pace had quickened, and their eyes held a more cautious and uneasy look. An indescribable panic began to permeate the city and its surroundings.

The Tartars are coming soon.

What should Emperor Chongzhen do?
(End of this chapter)