How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 223 High-level confrontation between Ming and Jin – the tomb raider who raids tombs, the one who smashes his rice bowl!

As dawn broke, the stone statues in front of the spirit path of the Deling Mausoleum, which had only been repaired not long ago, were still covered in dew.

Zhao Si limped along on the trampled earthen mound. His left leg had been crippled years ago when his master, Ao Bai, lost his temper, causing him to walk with a limp. The strip of cloth wrapped around his right arm still stained with the blood from the Baliqiao Bridge incident, and now, with each swing of his whip, it throbbed with excruciating pain.

"Hurry up! You good-for-nothing who hasn't eaten!" he roared hoarsely, cracking his whip across the back of a man in a coat who was moving too slowly.

The man staggered, not daring to utter a sound, and simply buried his head and dug even harder into the soil.

Zhao Si felt a tightness in his chest. Back in his hometown of Liaodong, he had been a bondservant for many years, finally managing to become a minor steward. He had hoped to gain some merit in this battle to enter the capital and perhaps get promoted, but the invincible Khan had been utterly defeated by the Ming army at Baliqiao! He had almost died on the front lines. Now, Sony had sent Dorgon to Tianshou Mountain to carry out this task of robbing the imperial tombs.

This is truly a case of stolen treasures not going to him. If the Great Jin Dynasty were to fall, he might even be captured and dismembered by the Ming Dynasty emperor!

But what could he do? Dorgon, the "Fashi Beile" of the Jin Dynasty, was watching closely from behind.

Kim Seong-in, holding a tattered picture book, carefully walked around the ditch in the ground and approached Dorgon's horse.

Dorgon rode his horse, his face even more somber than the morning sky. He impatiently tapped his boots with his riding whip.

“Your Highness,” Jin Chengren bowed, his voice neither loud nor soft, “according to the surviving maps and records of this site, this mausoleum is indeed the De Mausoleum of Emperor Xizong of the Southern Dynasty. The underground palace is compact in its layout, and the Vajra Wall is particularly thick…”

"Stop with this nonsense!" Dorgon interrupted him, pointing his whip at the chaotic excavation site. "I'm just asking, when will we see that coffin?!"

Kim Seong-in felt a chill run down his spine, but he forced himself to say, “Your Highness, the earthen mound is solid, and the entrance to the underground palace is exceptionally secure… If we are to see Emperor Xizong’s coffin, it will take… no less than ten days.”

"Bullshit!" Dorgon lashed his whip across the stone beast beside him, making a sharp cracking sound. "I don't have that much time! Three days! Just three days!"

His gaze swept fiercely over Kim Seong-in and the laborers.

“If the entrance to the underground palace is still blocked in three days, you,” he pointed at Jin Chengren, “and all these useless people, you’ll all be stuffed into it!”

Hearing this from a short distance away, Zhao Si's hand trembled, and he almost dropped the whip. He dared not look at Jin Chengren, so he could only vent his anger on others, whipping the whip even faster and cursing even more fiercely.

Kim Song-in lowered his head, his hands sweating. He was a member of the Andong Kim clan, a prestigious family of the Yangban class in Korea, yet now he was forced to do such heinous things for the Tartars just to survive. He felt incredibly aggrieved.

However, what Kim Seong-in didn't know was that Dorgon was also furious.

How did he suddenly become a "Prince of Tomb Raiders"? Digging up the ancestral tombs of the Ming Dynasty to force the main force of the Ming army to rush out of the fortress for a decisive battle is one thing. But actually digging it up is another matter entirely!

He wasn't afraid of being immoral—he wasn't exactly immoral to begin with—but he was worried about what would happen if Huang Taiji really couldn't defeat Chongzhen and became like Shi Chaoyi. During the An Lushan Rebellion, could a traitor who dug up the ancestral tombs of the Tang emperors still "rebel" and become a regional military governor?

Isn't this pushing the road to its limit?

The sun rose higher, and the water of the Shahe River flowed gurglingly.

On the north bank of the river, a wheat field that had just been harvested was bare, with only short stubble remaining. Several Later Jin soldiers, clutching their swords and spears, sat listlessly on the edge of the field, their stomachs growling with hunger.

The south bank of the river, however, presents a completely different world.

Countless laborers, a dark mass, chanted work songs as they carried timber, drove stakes into the ground, and dug trenches. A crooked but seemingly endless wooden fence stretched rapidly along the riverbank. Further away, the framework for several watchtowers had already been erected.

On the river, several flat-bottomed boats were unloading stones and bundles of timber.

Wei Zhongxian sat in a sedan chair and slowly crossed the river. Niu Jinxing followed beside him, wearing a brand-new blue robe with an egret badge on his chest. He was now the Left Vice Minister of the Left Spring Palace of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, a proper and noble scholar-official.

After the sedan chair landed, Wei Zhongxian didn't rush to the tent that had been set up over there. Instead, he walked to the shore and squinted as he looked south.

“Mr. Niu, look at this,” he said in a high-pitched voice, “this noise, this strength, it makes us feel comfortable.”

Niu Jinxing cupped his hands in greeting: "It is all thanks to Your Majesty's wisdom and skillful management. With the people's support, the nation's strength is gradually recovering."

Wei Zhongxian chuckled twice, then turned and walked slowly toward the tent. Niu Jinxing followed half a step behind.

Inside the tent, Yue Tuo and Fan Wencheng had been waiting for a while. Yue Tuo looked grim, while Fan Wencheng remained calm.

Upon seeing Wei Zhongxian enter, the two men stood up slightly.

Wei Zhongxian sat down casually in the main seat, and Niu Jinxing sat down to his left, taking out paper and pen. "I've kept you both waiting," Wei Zhongxian drawled, "I'm getting old, and my legs aren't as nimble as they used to be."

Yue Tuo snorted: "Eunuch Wei, enough of this nonsense! You keep saying you want to talk, but you're building fortifications on the south bank at the same time. What kind of logic is that?"

Wei Zhongxian picked up his teacup and blew on it: "Prince Yuetuo, this territory still seems to belong to the Ming Dynasty, right? What's wrong with our people stretching their muscles on their own land?"

Fan Wencheng picked up the conversation, his tone still calm: "Eunuch Wei, our army is sincere in seeking peace. However, if your country presses us further, unforeseen circumstances may arise." He shifted his tone slightly, lowering his voice, "To be honest, Eunuch, our Prince Dorgon has recently secured temporary lodging for the Tianqi Emperor's tomb. He is currently leading three thousand bondservant soldiers to respectfully attend to it day and night. It is expected that soon we will be able to respectfully invite the Tianqi Emperor's coffin to be moved to our camp for a personal visit. At that time, the peace negotiations may take on a different turn."

These words were like a needle, piercing Wei Zhongxian's ears—Emperor Tianqi had shown him divine favor!
His hand trembled, and the teacup lid clattered against the cup. The nonchalant expression on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, stern look.

"Fan Wencheng!" Wei Zhongxian's shrill voice suddenly rose, his finger almost poking at the other man's face, "You...you dare to disturb the imperial mausoleum! Disturbly disturb the tomb of my late emperor?!"

Seeing this, Yue Tuo grinned, revealing a sinister smile: "What's there to be afraid of? Your Zhu family emperor is lying too comfortably. Please come out and stretch your legs. It'll be just what my Khan needs!"

Wei Zhongxian trembled with rage. He abruptly stood up, his sleeve flipping over a teacup, spilling tea all over the table. Pointing at Yue Tuo and Fan Wencheng, his voice was even more shrill with extreme anger: "Fine! Fine! You dare to desecrate the tomb of my late Ming emperor! Let me make this clear! If you dare to damage a single brick or tile of the Deling Mausoleum, His Majesty will send 100,000 troops out of the pass to dig up that old slave Nurhaci's grave! To grind his bones to dust!"

Upon hearing this, Yue Tuo was not afraid at all. Instead, he burst into laughter, his laughter full of mockery: "Wei eunuch! Who are you trying to scare? The tomb of the late Great Khan is in Hetu Ala. Do you think you have the ability to go there? You useless cowards hiding in the city walls? Dream on!"

The Later Jin guards inside the tent also burst into laughter, and the atmosphere instantly became tense.

Niu Jinxing's face turned pale. He quickly stood up and gently tugged at Wei Zhongxian's sleeve, whispering, "Your Excellency, please calm down. His Majesty will make his own judgment..."

Wei Zhongxian's chest heaved violently as he stared intently at Yue Tuo and Fan Wencheng. After a long while, he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence through gritted teeth: "I'm tired. That's enough for today! You... take care of yourselves!"

Having said that, he didn't look at the other person again, turned and left, his steps much faster than when he came. Niu Jinxing hurriedly put away his paper and pen, gave Yue Tuo and Fan Wencheng a perfunctory bow, and quickly followed after him.

Watching Wei Zhongxian's somewhat flustered figure, Yue Tuo stopped laughing and looked triumphantly at Fan Wencheng: "Sir, your plan is brilliant! Look how scared this eunuch has been!"

Fan Wencheng frowned slightly, his face showing no joy, and said in a low voice, "Your Highness, this matter... I'm afraid it will not end well. When Emperor Ming hears of this, he will certainly not let it go."

The night is dark.

The sea near the mouth of the Liao River was so black that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. The only sound was the crashing of the waves against the sides of the boat.

Several ships, like ghosts, anchored more than a mile from the shore and silently lowered more than a dozen sampans.

Mao Wenlong was the first to jump from the large ship onto the sampan, causing the boat to suddenly sink. He steadied himself, placed his hand on the hilt of his knife, and whispered, "Quick! Be quiet!"

One by one, the Dongjiang soldiers slid down the gunwale, and the sampan quickly filled with people. The oars dipped gently into the water, making almost no sound, as they rowed towards the deeper darkness on the shore.

Mao Wenlong's heart was pounding. He had been to Liangfangkou twice before, disguised as a merchant, and he knew the river's conditions and the earthen fortifications on the banks well. But this time was different. He wasn't here to do business; he was here to raid Huang Taiji's stronghold. The Emperor's secret decree made it clear that Huang Taiji's main force was firmly tied down in Changping, leaving the Liaoshen area vulnerable. This was a golden opportunity.

The sampan's bow lurched onto the mudflats with a "whoosh." Mao Wenlong was the first to jump in; the water instantly reached his knees. He drew his knife and gestured behind him.

The shadowy figures quickly dispersed, splitting into several groups, and crouched low as they rushed ashore. Liangfangkou was just a small earthen enclosure containing dozens of rows of thatched huts and warehouses, usually guarded by only a few dozen bannermen and some bondservants. Now, in the dead of night, only a single, dimly lit lantern hung on the earthen watchtower, its yellowish glow swaying in the wind.

Mao Chenglu, leading a team of skilled men, with short knives clenched in their mouths, crept to the base of the earthen wall, formed a human ladder, and silently climbed over. A few very short, muffled thuds came from inside the wall, like struggles as if someone had been gagged, then silence fell.

After a while, the dilapidated wooden door of the earthen enclosure was gently pulled open from the inside.

"Master, it's clean." Mao Chenglu appeared at the door and said in a low voice.

"Good!" Mao Wenlong exhaled a breath of stale air, turned around and imitated a sea cat's meow twice towards the sea. This was a signal, and more sampans began to sail towards the shore.

"Hurry up, get the brothers ashore! Hold this pass!" Mao Wenlong ordered. "Plant our flag on that earthen wall!"

He strode into the earthen enclosure. It was empty inside, filled with a mixture of fishy and animal dung smells. Several Tartar sentries who had just been dealt with slumped against the wall.

"Sir, we've checked," a sergeant ran up to report. "There's nothing of value in the enclosure, just a few warehouses over there, piled with hides and mountain goods, and two warehouses with grain, a full two thousand shi."

Mao Wenlong walked to a higher earthen slope and looked towards the boundless darkness to the northwest. That was Haizhou, that was Liaoyang, and further north was Shenyang.

"Two thousand shi of grain? Heaven is on our side!" Mao Wenlong's face lit up with joy, but he quickly calmed down. He looked around at his generals and said in a deep voice, "With this grain, we're much more grounded! Pass down the order to rest for a day. Chenglu, send out more scouts and find out exactly what the Tartars are doing in the Haizhou and Gaizhou directions! This time, we're not aiming to attack cities, we're just here to destroy Huang Taiji's livelihood!"

(End of this chapter)