How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 215 This is the true power of the Ming Dynasty!

In the summer of the third year of the Chongzhen reign, the night wind was a bit cool, but in the Tongzhou area, near Balizhuang, it was sweltering.

The Tonghui River lies quietly like an ink ribbon. The village of Balizhuang on its north bank has completely changed.

Torches were lit one after another, forming a long, endless line. The sounds of people, work chants, tamping earth, and horses' hooves blended together, clearly audible from miles away.

Lu Xiang-sheng didn't ride a horse; he stood on a dirt slope not far from Baliqiao. He was covered in dust, his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, but his back was ramrod straight.

"Your Excellency, seventy percent of the sacks from the Tongzhou warehouse have been delivered!" An official in charge of grain and pay jogged over to report, his voice hoarse.

"Where's the timber? We don't have enough barricades. We need to work through the night, we can't stop!" Lu Xiang-sheng didn't turn his head, his eyes fixed on the bustling sea of ​​people below.

"The carpenters are all working on the riverbank, with the lights on, so they dare not delay their work!"

Lu Xiang-sheng nodded. He had a plan in mind.

This village of Balizhuang is nestled against the Tonghui River, spanned by a stone bridge called Baliqiao. This bridge is a vital passage connecting Tongzhou and Zhangjiawan (the terminus of the Grand Canal). He had long ago dispatched his most capable commander with a troop of soldiers to guard the bridgehead.

Zhuangzi originally had some earthen walls, very low and useless. The real strength lay outside.

Countless people lined up in long rows, piling sacks full of earth around the perimeter of the village. It wasn't haphazard piling; they were stacking them in the shape of several pointed corners. The general outlines of three protruding triangular fortresses were already becoming clear.

This is the "bastion" that the Emperor mentioned. Lu Xiang-sheng had pondered it; this thing was strange, capable of making the Tartars get beaten no matter where they charged.

Outside the burlap sack wall was a newly dug trench, not very deep, but wide. In front of the trench were countless chevaux-de-frise, their tips sharpened to a point that would take some effort to remove.

Removing the chevaux-de-frise in front of the trench outside the bastion was a death sentence!

More laborers, chanting slogans, drove thick wooden stakes into the ground and then connected them with crossbeams to form a crooked but seemingly endless wooden fence. This fence stretched along the south bank of the Tonghui River, extending east and west.

"The fence on the south bank needs to be built quickly," Lu Xiang-sheng said to the middle-ranking officer beside him. "It doesn't need to be very sturdy, but it needs to be connected. Build me a watchtower every half li, just big enough for people to stand and fire arrows and guns."

"I understand! We have enough manpower, but we're short on timber."

"We have to keep going, even if it's tough. If all else fails, we'll requisition some grain transport boats to dismantle timber!" Lu Xiang-sheng said resolutely. "This fence isn't to block the main force of the Tartars, but to prevent their small cavalry units from sneaking south and disturbing the peace of the capital! With it, we can confidently confront Huang Taiji on the north bank!"

The officer in charge solemnly agreed and hurried off to urge them on.

Lu Xiang-sheng walked down the earthen slope and approached the bustling construction site.

At the pointed corner of a bastion, an elderly craftsman who looked to be in his fifties was working hard with several young men, sweating profusely. They weren't repairing a wall, but rather urgently building a raised gun emplacement on the inside of the wall using sandbags and rammed earth.

"Over here! Add two more bags of soil, and tamp them down firmly!" The old craftsman's voice boomed, his commands decisive. Several young men chanted as they piled the heavy bags of soil on top, then tamped them down forcefully with a huge wooden rammer.

The old craftsman held a simple level, a wooden strip with a section of water-filled, transparent fish bladder embedded in the middle. He kept gesturing to the foundation and orientation of the cannon position, ensuring the platform was level and stable. Then he bent down and picked up several thick iron nails and hooks from a wooden box at his feet, handing them to the young man: "What are you standing there for? Hammer these nails in to lock the cannon wheel! Otherwise, the cannon will fly off on its own after one shot!"

His job was to provide a stable "home" for the artillery. This gun mount not only had to be higher than the front mortise so that the muzzle could be pressed down to hit nearby enemies, but it also had to be sturdy enough to withstand the huge recoil when the artillery was fired.

Lu Xiang-sheng stopped and didn't disturb them, just watched.

The old craftsman turned around, caught a glimpse of Lu Xiang-sheng's official robes, and was so startled that he almost knelt down.

Lu Xiang-sheng stepped forward and took his arm: "Master, no need for formalities. You've worked hard. Can you get this gun emplacement ready before dawn?"

The old craftsman wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm, his face beaming: "Your Excellency, it's done! Definitely done! The Emperor is generous with the money and the food is plentiful, so we old bones will have to use all our strength!" He patted the newly laid rammed earth foundation, making a dull thud, "It's just that this burlap sack foundation for the gun emplacements probably won't compare to the durability of bricks and stones built over the years..."

“It’s alright.” Lu Xiang-sheng looked at the nascent launch platform with sharp eyes. “The Tartars won’t give us years and months. What we need is for this cannon to fire the first shot steadily at dawn!”

He walked to the riverbank. There, the firelight was brighter, and hundreds of carpenters were rushing to complete the components of the watchtower. Wood shavings flew, and the sound of sawing was deafening. A foreman shouted, "Mortar joints! Align them perfectly! Not a hair's breadth off!"

On the Tonghui River, cargo boats and small boats came and went, transporting goods from the Tongzhou warehouses. The unloaded sacks piled up into small mountains.

Lu Xiang-sheng silently calculated in his mind. Every quarter of an hour consumed a massive amount of sacks of burlap, timber, and grain. This was no longer a war; it was building a wall with silver, materials, and lives.

But the Emperor said that this battle is about building up resources and productivity.

He looked up and saw that the eastern sky was already showing a hint of dawn.

It's almost bright.

Dozens of miles northwest of Balizhuang, a small fortified village that had just been destroyed was lifeless.

The smoke hadn't completely dissipated, and the air was filled with the smell of burnt food and blood.

The brothers Fan Wencheng and Fan Wencai trudged through the ruins, their steps uneven. Their long robes, worn by officials of the Later Jin dynasty, stood out starkly.

Several bondservants were carrying a corpse out of a relatively intact house. Judging from his clothes, it was the owner of the estate, a middle-aged man dressed in a scholar's robe, hanging from the roof beam with his tongue lolling out. In the next room were his family members, all dead, some by suicide, others with wounds on their bodies.

"Why did it have to come to this..." Fan Wencheng sighed softly and looked away.

Fan Wencai, however, curled his lip: "Brother, you're just out of touch with reality. Surrendering to the Khan early, even as a bondservant, is better than your entire family being wiped out." At this moment, Jin Chengren, beaming with joy, trotted over and bowed deeply to the Fan brothers: "Mr. Fan! Congratulations! Congratulations!"

Fan Wencai frowned: "What's there to be happy about in this pile of dead bodies?"

Kim Seong-in excitedly pointed to the granary behind him: "Grain! This estate has 1,016 shi of wheat! Fifty shi of white rice! And salted meat and pickled vegetables! The owner must be a high-ranking official from the Ming Dynasty, right? In our Joseon, a salary of several dozen shi a year is considered a very high-ranking official!"

Fan Wencheng and Fan Wencai exchanged a glance, both showing a wry smile.

Fan Wencheng shook his head: "Judging from the size of this mansion, he's at most a Xiucai (a scholar who passed the county-level imperial examination), not even a Juren (a scholar who passed the provincial-level imperial examination)."

Fan Wencai remained silent, but his mind was in turmoil. He recalled his early years in his hometown, when the Fan family were still citizens of the Ming Dynasty, and also a family of scholars and officials. Although they were not as wealthy as this family, they were still quite well-off! The Ming Dynasty still had a very solid foundation.

The two fell silent for a moment.

At the other end of the village, Zhao Si was leading his men to collect the bodies of the bondservants, Aha. These Han Chinese and Korean bondservants had been driven to the front lines during the attack on the village and had suffered the most casualties.

Zhao Si counted the bodies one by one, a chill running down his spine. There were over one hundred and twenty in total. Most of them had been killed by powerful crossbow bolts, which were both deadly and accurate; many of the corpses had more than one hole in them.

This was just an ordinary village, not the kind of "pentagonal fortress" that the Great Khan had warned against. Yet, so many lives were lost here.

He heard Lord Sonny and Lord Murima talking not far away.

Sony's voice was filled with satisfaction: "Three dead, eight wounded. This estate isn't big, but the spoils are decent. This battle was worthwhile."

Murima laughed and chimed in, "That's right! It seems we can take down anything, even if it's not a corner fortress!"

Zhao Si kept his head down and continued dragging the corpse, but he felt a little hurt inside.

Three died and eight were injured.

What about those 120-odd bondservants? Weren't they human? Didn't their lives count as lives?
It turns out that in the eyes of their masters, bondservants were truly not human.

The atmosphere inside the central command tent of the Later Jin army was somewhat somber.

Huang Taiji sat in the main seat, his expression unreadable. Below him sat Beile, Yangulli, Turge, and other ministers.

Yangguli spoke first, his tone irritated: "Great Khan, this can't go on! We've captured three or four villages in the past few days, but the grain we've seized isn't even enough to feed the army! The bondsers are almost out of food and can only eat the green wheat ears in the fields!"

Turgh echoed, "Yes, Great Khan. Although our warriors have suffered few casualties, our bondservant soldiers have lost too many. The little we've looted won't last more than a few days. If this continues, we'll collapse on our own without the Ming army even needing to attack."

The tent fell silent for a moment. Everyone knew that since entering the pass, although the advance seemed unstoppable, they hadn't really cracked any real tough nuts to crack, and the gold, silver, and valuables they had seized were far less than expected. The 100,000-strong army (including the bondservant Aq) was suffering from excessive food and horse feed depletion.

Huang Taiji's gaze swept over everyone, finally settling on Hauge: "Hauge, what do you say?"

Hauge retorted, "Father, the Ming dogs are cowards, they don't dare to leave the city for a decisive battle. Let's go straight to Tongzhou! Tongzhou is a major shipping port, with mountains of grain. If we plunder a bit, we'll have everything we need!"

Huang Taiji pondered. He knew Hauge's words were simple, but at the moment, there seemed to be no better choice. Tongzhou was his original target; he had thought the Ming army might come out of the city to fight him, thus preventing his advance on Tongzhou and Beijing. But now, the Ming army was completely ignoring him.

I wonder what Emperor Chongzhen was thinking?

He slammed his hand on the simple wooden table in front of him, making a loud "bang".

"Okay! Let's do it!"

Everyone inside the tent looked at him.

Huang Taiji stood up, a resolute ruthlessness on his face: "Send down the order: rest for half a day. Tomorrow at dawn, the army will set off, target—Tongzhou!"

His eyes gleamed: "Let's go to Tongzhou and rob a big one!"

On the banks of the Tonghui River, the sun was setting. After a night and a day of intensive work, a peculiar castle stood on the plain. It was built on the foundation of an existing small village, its walls constructed from countless dusty burlap sacks, sharp and angular, featuring three pointed protrusions. The castle was surrounded by layers of moats, barricades, and low walls.

Although rough, it exudes a chilling murderous aura.

Further away, on the south bank of the Tonghui River, a crooked wooden fence stretches along the riverbank, seemingly endless. Behind the fence, at intervals, stands a newly erected watchtower, where the figures of soldiers on duty can be vaguely seen.

Lu Xiang-sheng, having worked for a full day and night, had a hoarse voice, but one filled with a sense of relief. He instructed the messenger beside him:
"Reporting to the Emperor, Balibao is complete, and the fence on the south bank of the Tonghui River has been erected."

He paused, then looked northwest, where smoke and dust seemed to rise where the sky met the earth.

He took a deep breath and said in a low voice:

"Wait for the enemy chieftain!"

The messenger mounted his horse and galloped off toward Beijing.

Several hours later, the rising sun cast its golden light upon the fortress that had "grown" overnight, and also illuminated the billowing dust on the distant horizon, which was gradually becoming clearer and pressing in like dark clouds.

(End of this chapter)