How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 235 Brothers, we got food! Huang Taiji, we've run into the Japanese!

The sky was overcast and oppressive. Gray clouds clung to the barren plain, and the wind carried a damp chill. The herdsmen familiar with this grassland knew that snow was imminent.

Abatel stood on the slope, gazing southwest. Behind him, men and horses surged, the Tumed and Ordos cavalry huddled together in a chaotic jumble, the Khorchin and Kharachin troops more orderly, while the thousand or so Eight Banner soldiers stood motionless in the middle like stones. Beside him, his deputy, Wunag, wearing an iron helmet, stared solemnly in the same direction.

A scout tumbled off his saddle, panting, and reported: "Your Highness, the southern barbarians have passed Huangshabao and are heading north along the Heihe River. It's Sun Chuanting and Cao Wenzhao's main force, with both infantry and cavalry, and they're even dragging cannons. They're not moving fast."

Abatai squinted, a smirk playing on his lips. Heihe was an open area, perfect for horseback riding, but a burden for infantry and artillery. He turned to the Mongolian guide beside him and asked, "What's ahead?"

"Reporting to the General, another thirty li is the northwest entrance of the White Pagoda. It's a mountain gully, and beyond that is a plain that leads directly to Guihua City."

“The northwest entrance of the White Pagoda…” Abatai repeated, making up his mind. He absolutely could not let the Ming army get out of that entrance! He had to take advantage of the fact that they were still in the valley, block them, and attack them all at once. He turned to Wunage and said, “Wumele, later you take the best men from the Khorchin and Kharachin and charge in, see if you can defeat the Sun family in one fell swoop.”

Wunag clasped his hands and said in a deep voice, "Your Highness, rest assured, this humble general understands."

He looked up at the sky; it was a hazy gray. The cold wind stung his face like knives. "It's going to snow," he whispered. In this weather, the Ming army's firearms were difficult to use effectively—a stroke of good fortune.

"Give the order!" he shouted suddenly. "The entire army moves forward and forms ranks on the Heihe Grassland! Let the Tumed and Ordos men lead the charge and attack the flanks first! Wunage, you lead the elite cavalry of the Khorchin and Kharachin to follow my central army. On orders, go straight for Sun Chuanting's central army!"

He planned to bleed the Mongol army dry, waiting for them to slip through his fingers before delivering a fatal blow. Winning this battle would not only secure Guihua City, but also grant him control of southern Mongolia for the entire winter.

"Yes, sir!" Wunage responded and accepted the order.

Once the order was given, the troops surged towards the designated battlefield like a turbid river.

Around the same time, in the southwest, Sun Chuanting's team braved the increasingly fierce cold wind and stepped into this grassland that was about to be stained with blood.

On the eighth day of the eleventh lunar month, on the southern grasslands of Inner Mongolia, the wind lashed down with dense snowflakes.

The world was a gray expanse. The wind whipped up hard snowflakes, sweeping across and stinging my face. I gasped for breath, my throat filled with icy cold.

The cold was chilling in the wilderness by the Heihe River. Banners fluttered wildly in the wind. The troops marched through ankle-deep snow, each step firm and deliberate. The soldiers squinted, their eyelashes frosted over.

Sun Chuanting stood atop the small hill, mounted on his horse. He wore iron armor, covered by a windproof bullfighting coat, yet the cold wind still seeped into his bones. His face was expressionless as he watched the procession unfold below.

Cao Wenzhao leaned closer, ice crystals clinging to his stubble. "Commander, this weather is terrible. If the Tartars don't come out, we're in for a lot of trouble."

Sun Chuanting didn't turn around, his voice carried by the wind: "He will come. Abatai has been holding back, and he can't bear to let this opportune moment pass him by."

He pointed to the open ground ahead: "Form ranks there. Infantry in the center, artillery pinned down, your cavalry protecting the flanks. Queen Dowager Sutai and the Prince of Loyalty's carriages will be placed in the safest spot in the center."

Orders were passed down one after another. The troops moved, though not as nimbly as usual, but maintaining formation in the wind and snow was already a feat.

The artillery was the busiest. Dozens of 300-pound general's cannons rolled over the snow. The gunners grumbled, but their hands moved swiftly. Several men tore open large pieces of tarpaulin and quickly erected shelters for the cannons, then tightly wrapped the gunpowder barrels and fuses in their clothes to prevent them from getting damp. Torches flickered in the wind, illuminating their frozen faces.

Veteran gunner Zhao Laoliu squatted under the gun mount, shielding himself from the wind, and yelled at the shivering recruit Wang Ergou beside him: "What are you cowardly about! With this wind blowing, the Tartars' arrows are flying all over the place! Our cannon... it all depends on how well it fires!"

Wang Ergou shrank his neck, his teeth chattering: "Master, this...this won't make a sound."

Old Zhao glared at him: "The tarpaulin was just for show? I've been holding a tinderbox to my chest for ages! Just wait and see!"

On the other side, Cao Wenzhao's cavalry and several thousand Mongol men brought by Su Tai had already spread out on both flanks. The horses puffed out white steam, their hooves pawing the ground restlessly.

As Sun Chuanting watched the formation gradually take shape, he weighed his options. Abatai wasn't a reckless man; in this kind of weather, he was bound to be looking for an easy win. The matchlock muskets would be difficult to ignite. Their only hope lay in these general's cannons, carefully covered with oilcloth, and the sturdy spears and sabers in the hands of their men.

He predicted that Abatai's first wave would be to drive out those unruly Mongol tribes to charge into battle, exhausting his strength and probing his strength.

Sure enough, not long after, a rumbling sound like muffled thunder came from the wind. It wasn't thunder, but the sound of thousands upon thousands of horses' hooves pounding the ground.

Several scouts scrambled back, their faces ashen: "Commander! The Tartars... the Tartars are here! On both flanks! Judging by their banners, they're from the Tumed and Ordos!"

Sun Chuanting nodded and said to Cao Wenzhao, "Go, do as we discussed. Keep them occupied and don't disrupt their formation."

Cao Wenzhao grinned, revealing his white teeth: "Watch closely, Commander!" He spurred his horse and led his personal guards toward the right flank. On the left flank, Su Tai's Mongol leader also shouted and led his men to meet them.

The wind whipped up snowflakes, obscuring the view in the distance. All that could be heard were shouts of battle and the clanging of metal. Every now and then, wounded men or horses emerged from the snow-covered landscape, collapsing onto the snow-covered ground.

The Ming army's infantry formation was eerily quiet in the center. Five infantry squares stood like five solid rocks in the wind and snow. The spearmen in the front row pointed their spears diagonally forward. The musketeers at the rear, unable to light their matchlocks, simply held their muskets to their chests. The swordsmen and shield bearers stood in the gaps, their shields pressed together.

The wind and snow continued, blurring the figures on the opposite side, with only the sounds of fierce fighting echoing from both flanks. This kind of prolonged, arduous struggle was the most grueling. New recruit Li Sanwa's legs cramped, while the scarred veteran Sun Dazhu beside him growled, "Stand up straight! Even the Tartars are made of flesh and blood; one slash and they'll still draw blood!"

I don't know how much time passed, maybe the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, maybe even less. Suddenly, some swaying shadows appeared in the wind and snow directly ahead, moving swiftly, accompanied by the whistles of cavalry charging.

"They're Khorchin! And Kharachin too! Their elite! The leader is a Tartar general in iron armor!" a sharp-eyed officer shouted.

Abatai had indeed prepared a backup plan. Instead of using these elite troops to attack the flanks, he had his deputy, Wunag, lead them to take advantage of the snowstorm and directly penetrate the Ming army's infantry formation to the flank and rear! These Mongol cavalrymen were indeed fierce and skilled in horsemanship. They did not charge directly into the hail of bullets, but instead circled the square formation, firing arrows as they ran.

The wind was strong, making the arrows fly erratically and with less force. But the sheer number of arrows meant many still fell into the formation. Soldiers groaned and fell to the ground, their blood splattering on the snow, a stark contrast. The formation began to falter slightly. "Hold your ground! Spears forward! Shield bearers, protect your heads!" the officers' shouts echoed in the wind.

Sun Chuanting, standing under the central command flag, saw it all clearly. He knew this was Abatai's killing move: using his miscellaneous troops to wear down Abatai's flanks, then sending his elite cavalry archers to disrupt his base.

He glanced at the flag officer beside him. The officer stared intently at him, his knuckles white as he gripped the command flag.

Seeing that the Ming army's formation was only slightly disordered and had not collapsed, Wu Nag became anxious and shouted, urging his men to press closer and fire arrows more rapidly. He felt that in this weather, the southern barbarians' firearms were useless.

Just as he led his cavalry to within a hundred paces of the infantry formation, where the outlines of men and horses were clearly visible, Sun Chuanting suddenly swung his arm.

The flag officers almost simultaneously brought down their command flags!

Something unexpected happened!

Beside the general's cannons covered with tarpaulins, the gunners suddenly ripped them off! Torches were quickly brought close to the fuses! A hissing sound arose, followed immediately—

"boom!!!"

"Boom boom boom!!!"

Forty general's cannons roared in unison, their sound shaking the surrounding fields. The flames spewing from their muzzles instantly illuminated the gloomy, snowy day!

So close, the artillery was loaded with grapeshot. Iron pellets and shredded iron fragments rained down on the densely packed Khorchin cavalry.

The effect was horrifying. Even the wind couldn't drown out the screams and neighs of men and horses that instantly transformed into agonizing screams. The leading cavalrymen, horse and rider, fell in droves, as if struck by a heavy hammer. The lieutenant general, Wunag, rode a horse struck by several shrapnel pellets, which reared up with a mournful cry, throwing him violently from its back!
The arrogant Khorchin cavalry, who had been so cocky just moments before, were suddenly stunned.

Abatai, who had been waiting to see a spectacle from afar, heard the rapid-fire cannon fire and saw the humiliating sight of men and horses tumbling in the snow and Wunag falling from his horse. His smug expression instantly froze, replaced by horror. "This... how is this possible!"

In the Ming army, Sun Chuanting seized the opportunity, a cold glint in his eyes, and shouted sharply, "Infantry! Advance! Kill the enemy!"

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" The war drums resounded, carrying a resolute and murderous aura!
The Ming infantry formation, bursting with pent-up anger, surged forward like a torrent! The spearmen in the front ranks no longer held their ground; veteran Sun Dazhu, spear held level, charged forward with swift strides!

"Thud! Thud!" The spear easily pierced through the slowed warhorse, or pierced through the rider on horseback! Screams of agony immediately rang out.

At this moment, even the swordsman Li Sanwa forgot his fear and, along with his comrades, roared and leaped out from the gaps in the gun formation! They used their shields to parry the sabers with their left hands and their waist knives to fiercely slash at the horses' legs with their right hands! The warhorses neighed and fell to the ground.

Wu Nag, who had just fallen from his horse, struggled to his feet and hadn't even regained his footing when several Ming soldiers' spears came thrusting at him from different directions! He parried one with his sword, but another pierced his thigh, causing him to scream and fall to his knees. A third spear mercilessly pierced through his armor! Wu Nag coughed up blood, his eyes wide, unable to believe that he would die at the hands of Ming infantrymen.

Infantry charge! The Ming army actually used infantry to launch a fierce frontal charge against the Mongol cavalry!

On the slope behind, Abatai, who was contemplating whether to personally lead the Eight Banners troops to press forward, was dumbfounded! He had anticipated the Ming army's formidable firearms, but he never expected that Sun Chuanting would dare to drive his infantry into hand-to-hand combat! He even watched helplessly as his deputy general, Wu Nage, died a gruesome death on the battlefield!
"What...what the hell is this fighting style?!" Abatai's lips trembled. He had just raised his hand, wanting to order the Eight Banners soldiers to charge...

Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats and shouts of battle came from the flank of the battlefield!
Cao Wenzhao charged ahead, covered in blood, and had already routed the Tumed cavalry on the right flank! Cheers erupted from Su Tai's men on the left flank as the Ordos forces also fell! The two Ming armies, along with the surrendered Mongol cavalry, formed a pincer movement, encircling Abatai's central army! Cao Wenzhao's roar pierced the battlefield: "Abatai! Prepare to die!"

Abatai was terrified! His flanks had collapsed, his central army had been overrun, his deputy general had been killed in battle, and now enemy cavalry were attacking from both sides!

"Retreat! Retreat quickly!" Without further hesitation, Abatai, under the protection of his family's bannermen, cut down the fleeing soldiers and led the remaining Eight Banners troops out of the encirclement in a disheveled state, fleeing desperately towards Guihua City.

The wind and snow gradually subsided.

The battlefield was revealed, a scene of utter devastation. The snow was trampled into a muddy mess, stained with dark red blood. Everywhere lay fallen men and horses, and tattered flags.

Veteran gunner Zhao Laoliu patted new recruit Wang Ergou on the shoulder: "Kid, how's that?" Wang Ergou looked at the scene before him, opened his mouth but didn't say anything, he just nodded vigorously.

Cao Wenzhao rode over, his face splattered with blood and his armor torn, yet his face was full of excitement. "Commander! The Tartars have collapsed, and Wu Nag is dead! Should we pursue them? Let's seize Guihua City while we're still here!"

Sun Chuanting looked north and shook his head: "Don't pursue a desperate enemy. It's getting dark, and the brothers are exhausted. Guihua City is already deserted. We can enter tomorrow. Right now, the most important thing is to clean up the battlefield, treat the wounded, and take stock of the losses."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the blood-stained grassland, and said in a deep voice to the officers beside him, "The land our brothers bought with their blood cannot be wasted. Next spring, this Tumote Plain must be planted with grain. The people of Shaanxi are still waiting for rice from here to cook."

The group regrouped and silently headed north.

Around the same time, thousands of miles away on the southern part of the Korean Peninsula, Jeonju City was in chaos.

Several large breaches had been blasted through the thick city walls, and the flags flying atop them were no longer those of the Joseon Dynasty of Korea, but rather the dragon flags of the Later Jin Dynasty. On the streets, squads of Later Jin soldiers were escorting slumped-over Korean prisoners, carrying sacks of grain and bundles of cloth from government granaries and wealthy households, piling them in the open space in the city center. The air was thick with the stench of blood, the smell of smoke and fire, and the distinctive aroma of grain.

Huang Taiji rode a tall horse, slowly making his way through the ruins. His face was calm, revealing neither joy nor displeasure. His eyes swept over the piles of spoils, which resembled small mountains, and finally settled on a few people whose clothing and appearance were completely different from those of the Koreans and Later Jin people.

These men, with their shaved heads and dressed in kimonos, appeared quite respectful, yet harbored an unspeakable arrogance. The leader stepped forward and spoke in broken Chinese: "I, Yanagawa Ichiro, a retainer of Lord Tsushima Muneyoshige, pay my respects to the Great Khan. Having heard of the Great Khan's heavenly army's southward march, I have specially presented ten large cannons made by our Japanese 'Kunitomo' to express my heartfelt congratulations on the Great Khan's conquest of this castle."

Several samurai carried in a finely crafted Japanese musket. The barrel was black, the muzzle was thick, and it looked quite formidable.

Huang Taiji nodded slightly, and Fan Wencheng, who was standing beside him, stepped forward to accept the gift list. Huang Taiji's gaze passed over the Japanese men, looking further south, and he muttered under his breath, "Korean grain, Japanese muskets..."

(End of this chapter)