Take control of Wei Zhongxian at the start and confiscate 100 million from him!

Chapter 347 The Snowstorm in Shengjing Triggers the Nation's Fate

On that enormous map, the mountains and rivers remain unchanged, silent and still.

But in the hearts of these two, the emperor and his minister, a momentous game of chess concerning the fate of the Ming Dynasty had already been decided.

The world is like a game of chess; one move and everything follows.

Within the warm pavilion of the Forbidden City, every move made by the young Emperor Zhu Youjian—whether it was the thunderous blow against the Shanxi merchants, severing the economic lifeline of the Later Jin; the handshake and peace with Ligdan Khan, locking down his room for maneuver in the north; or the reorganization of the Beijing garrison, stockpiling grain and fodder, displaying the resolute posture of a war that would cost the entire nation its life…

These seemingly independent actions are now converging into an invisible chill, crossing thousands of miles and precisely pouring into Shengjing, thousands of miles away.

As Zhu Youjian and Zhang Weixian plotted their future before the map, basking in the glory of their strategic planning, their opponent in this game of chess was being pushed to the brink of despair by the sudden onset of winter.

As the seasons turn and the Cold Dew solar term has just passed, the weather in the northern frontier has already impatiently put on a cold and unforgiving face.

In early October, Shengjing was already in the depths of winter. The gray sky hung low over the city, like a heavy, dirty wooden plank that could collapse at any moment.

The cold wind, like an invisible blade, whipped the bare willow branches along the roadside, making a whistling sound, sometimes sharp as a whistle, as if countless hungry ghosts were wandering in the city, crying out their nowhere to go for their hunger.

The streets were no longer bustling with activity.

The Mongolian merchants with high noses and deep-set eyes, dressed in various colored fur robes, as well as the Han Chinese merchants who traded ginseng and sable furs, have all disappeared.

Only a few scattered pedestrians remained, wrapped tightly in their thin clothes, hunching their necks as they hurried along in the cold wind. Each of them had a pale, ashen face and numb eyes, like walking corpses.

Occasionally, a troop of Manchu soldiers in full armor would patrol by. Although their spears were still sharp, their hands were weak from hunger, and their expressions were no different from those of the common people, with sunken eyes and a sense of bewilderment about the future.

In the northwest corner of the city wall, in a sheltered depression, two bondservants were struggling to drag a corpse that was already frozen stiff.

The corpse was curled up, covered only by a tattered straw mat, its bony fingers stretched out forward, as if it were begging for something even in death.

The servants dragging the body grumbled and complained about how heavy the corpse was and how the awful weather made their bones ache from the cold.

Such a scene is nothing new in this capital city known as "Heaven-Favored Shengjing".

"boom!"

The largest grain store in town had its heavy door slammed shut, with a wooden sign nailed to the door panel bearing the four large, vividly written characters: "Closed due to lack of grain."

At the relief point not far away, a long queue stretched from one end of the street to the other.

A huge iron pot was simmering the so-called life-saving porridge, but the porridge was so thin that you could clearly see your reflection in it.

No one who received the porridge showed any joy on their face. They numbly gulped down the soup, which was almost like cold water, and then returned to their sunless shacks to wait for the next handout or for death.

Misfortune and fortune have no fixed gate; they are summoned by human actions. However, if the timing is not right, even a sage cannot change it.

At this moment, the Later Jin, or rather the newly established Qing Dynasty, was trapped in this desperate situation where both heaven and man were at odds.

In stark contrast to the desolate and chilly scene in the city, the Phoenix Tower within the palace was warm and cozy.

Thick passionflower-patterned carpets covered the floor, and in the corners, several gilded incense burners adorned with auspicious mythical beasts and qilin were silently burning fine silver-boned charcoal, emitting not a trace of smoke, but only a warm, comforting glow. The interior was lavishly furnished, showcasing the finest amenities found beyond the Great Wall.

However, the warmth filling the room could not dispel the silence in the air, which was colder than ice.

The Qing Emperor Huang Taiji, dressed in a bright yellow robe with a golden dragon, sat upright on the throne carved from a single piece of golden nanmu wood in the center.

His face was ashen, and his lips were pressed tightly together, revealing his extreme repression and anger.

Those eyes that once made countless warriors dare not look directly at them are now gazing out the window, watching the fine snowflakes drift silently down in the wind.

This snow, for a bountiful year, is auspicious snow, a sign of life.

But for the Qing Dynasty, which was beset by internal and external troubles after the severe drought, it was a death knell, the last straw that broke the camel's back!
Once the heavy snow closes the mountain passes, their last remaining route to scavenge provisions from Korea and the Donghai Jurchen tribes will be completely cut off.

His fingers tapped unconsciously on the armrests carved with ferocious beast patterns, the only sound in the deathly silent hall, striking the hearts of everyone present.

Beneath the throne, two rows of large rosewood chairs were occupied by the core nobles of the Qing Dynasty, including the Princes of the First Rank.

The first person on the left is the eldest prince, Daishan, also known as Prince Li of the First Rank.

His face was etched with deep wrinkles, and his eyes were cloudy, revealing a deep sense of worry and exhaustion.

He represents those old-fashioned nobles who followed Emperor Nurhaci through countless battles and now only wish to preserve this hard-won legacy and enjoy their later years in peace.

Opposite him to the right was Amin, the most hot-tempered of the four great princes.

His eyes were fierce, like a beast trapped in a cage, his bloodshot eyes burning with impatience and ambition.

He always felt that Huang Taiji had used a scheme to seize his Bordered Blue Banner and then used his imperial ambitions to weaken the power of the Beile who "co-ruled the country." He missed the era of the Great Jin Khanate, where he could plunder at will, drink wine in large bowls, and divide gold in large chunks.

Amin's left is Mangultai.

This prince was as burly as a bear, with a full beard and a volatile expression.

His mind was filled with nothing but charging into battle, slaying generals and capturing flags; he had a typical military mindset, believing that all difficulties could be solved with the sabers of the Eight Banners warriors.

To Huang Taiji's left, below Daishan, was his cousin, Prince Zheng of the First Rank, Jirhalang.

This man had a calm expression; he was one of the few rational people among the princes and the most steadfast supporter of Huang Taiji since his ascension to the throne. At this moment, he was slightly lowering his eyes, seemingly lost in thought.

Further down the table sat several Han officials, the most trusted advisors of Huang Taiji, Fan Wencheng and Ning Wanwo.

They bowed their heads, eyes downcast, like meditating monks.

In a corner of the main hall, two figures, though inconspicuous, exuded a compelling air of heroism.

Those were Nurhaci's fourteenth and fifteenth sons, Dorgon and Dodo, brothers.

They were still young and were only seated at the end of the table.

Dodo still showed some youthful impatience, while Dorgon's narrow eyes swept over everyone present with the calmness of a hawk, especially his fourth brother who sat high on the throne, whose eyes gleamed with a complex light that no one could understand.

"Tap...tap..."

Huang Taiji's knocking finally stopped.

He slowly withdrew his gaze and looked around at the princes and the others.

He could clearly feel the gazes cast upon him by his so-called "uncles and brothers." Those scorching eyes contained a mixture of many things: fear of the Ming army's advance, despair over the famine, doubts about his decisions as emperor, and even... a hint of barely perceptible schadenfreude.

"The so-called 'lonely man' does not refer to the loneliness of his wife and children, but to the loneliness of his heart." A cold, bitter smile rose in Huang Taiji's heart.

He gave them the national title of "Great Qing" and the honors of princes and beile, attempting to lead a primitive tribal alliance into a true dynasty.

But what about them?

They still have the blood of bandits in their veins!

What they miss most is the past when they could freely break through the border walls and rush into the prosperous and wealthy world of the Ming Dynasty, plundering children, wealth, food, and other valuables like wolves breaking into a sheepfold!
glory?

dignity?

It's worthless in the face of a starving stomach!
Huang Taiji knew that if he couldn't come up with a way to break the deadlock today, this seemingly warm and magnificent Phoenix Tower would become his execution ground. His throne as the Emperor of the Great Qing would be instantly submerged by a raging flood of hunger and discontent!

"Mr. Fan."

Huang Taiji finally spoke, his voice hoarse yet imposing.

Fan Wencheng, who had been standing with his head bowed, stepped forward upon hearing the voice and walked to the center of the hall.

He held a scroll wrapped in yellow silk in his hands, his expression solemn. He unfurled the scroll, and his dry yet clear voice sounded particularly jarring in the Phoenix Tower, where one could hear a pin drop.

"Your Majesty, I have compiled the secret reports from our 'spies' in the capital, Xuanfu, and Shanhaiguan of the Ming Dynasty. After repeated cross-verification, the situation is now extremely urgent."

Everyone's hearts were in their throats.

"Intelligence one: military mobilization." Fan Wencheng spoke clearly, "According to the report, Emperor Zhu Youjian of the Ming Dynasty has ordered Sun Chengzong to be the commander-in-chief, in charge of the Guan-Ning Army, the Xuan-Da Army, and the elite troops of the Beijing Garrison, totaling 150,000 troops! Their provisions and supplies are piling up like mountains along the line from Shanhaiguan to Ningyuan!"

A suppressed gasp rang out from inside the hall.

150,000!
This number itself is like a mountain, making it hard to breathe.

Ignoring the commotion, Fan Wencheng emphasized his words and revealed the more crucial information:
"But what's strange is that our scouts reported that although the Xuanda and Beijing garrison troops did not move in large numbers towards the Shanhaiguan line, they had begun to send troops of about 10,000 men at a time to the border areas such as Xifengkou and Gubeikou to confront our Qing scouts, which they called 'training through war'! At the same time, the Ming army is carrying out large-scale repairs of abandoned fortresses along the entire Great Wall!"

This statement carries more weight than simply the imminent arrival of 150,000 troops!

"Use combat as training!"
This word struck Amin and Mangultai like a whip, leaving them stinging with pain.

This means that the Ming emperor was not waging a reckless decisive battle at all, but was using their elite Eight Banners scouts as a whetstone for the Ming army's new recruits in a humiliating way!
This is a calm and methodical preparation for war!
"Second intelligence report: Emperor Ming's mindset," Fan Wencheng continued, his voice growing increasingly hoarse. "All intelligence reports state that Emperor Zhu Youjian of Ming is young and impetuous. Since ascending the throne, he has won a series of victories. This includes the annihilation of our Qing's ally, the Khorchin tribe, the massacre in Shanxi, the elimination of Shanxi merchants and salt merchants who were secretly colluding with our Qing, and the swift elimination or sidelining of all those in the Ming Dynasty who opposed him."
Therefore, he is now extremely confident! Reportedly, he has repeatedly and publicly criticized Sun Chengzong's slow advance in the Ming court, vowing to "sweep through the enemy lines and directly attack Shengjing" before the winter solstice!

"Arrogant brat!" Mangultai clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking.

"Intelligence three: Mongolian developments." Fan Wencheng turned a page of the file and pointed north. "In the north, Ligdan Khan's Chahar tribe is unusually active. Although we haven't seen their main force march south in a large-scale attack, their cavalry have clashed with our border scouts multiple times, successfully holding back two of our Niru (military units) deployed in Kaiyuan and Tieling!"

After Fan Wencheng finished speaking, he closed the file, held it high above his head, and gave a final summary:

"Your Majesty! All indications suggest that the Ming army is about to launch an unprecedented land offensive, with its main target being the traditional Liaoxi Corridor!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the taut string inside Phoenix Tower snapped with a "snap"!

"This is too much!"

As expected, Amin was the first to jump up!

His face, already flushed from alcoholism, turned a deep liver color, with veins bulging on his forehead like writhing earthworms.

"150,000! Does Zhu Youjian really think my Qing Dynasty has no one left?!" He pointed at Fan Wencheng, but it was as if he was questioning Huang Taiji. "Great Khan! No! Your Majesty! What are we waiting for here? The snow outside the city is falling heavier and heavier. Our warriors can't even gather enough military rations. The cattle and horses at home are dying in droves! If we don't enter the pass soon, we will all starve to death in this Shengjing city!"

He took a step forward, almost pointing his finger at Huang Taiji's nose, and roared out the most piercing words:

"You said that becoming emperor would bring us glory and wealth! But what has it brought us now? Now it only brings hunger and death! This damned emperor is not as happy and carefree as when we were in our Great Jin Khanate! We could rob and kill as we pleased, unlike how pathetic we are today!"

"It's not even as good as the Great Jin!"

These words were like a resounding slap across Huang Taiji's face!

This is the most thorough denial of all his efforts in declaring himself emperor, changing the era name, and establishing laws!
“That’s right!” Mangultai slammed his hand on the table in front of him, causing the teacup on it to jump up and shatter on the ground.

He roared, his eyes wide, "Amin is right! What are we afraid of, 150,000 men! The Ming army are just a bunch of fat sheep with two legs that only know how to grow crops! As long as we charge through, they'll run away! Your Majesty, let me lead the warriors of the Bordered Blue Banner to charge! Just one charge! Even if we all die inside the pass, it's still better than watching our families starve to death here! Better to die in battle than to starve to death!"

His words echoed the sentiments of the officers, immediately drawing several low murmurs of agreement.

Fear is turning into a desperate madness.

"No! Absolutely not!"

Old Prince Daishan finally couldn't sit still any longer.

He stood up shakily, his wrinkled old face contorted with fear. He waved his hands frantically and cried out in a hoarse voice, "Amin! Mangultai! Have you all gone mad! Times have changed!"

The Ming army now possesses formidable firearms and fortified city defenses. Our own warriors and men are exhausted. How can we possibly fight against their 150,000-strong army head-on? It would be suicide!

He turned to Huang Taiji and pleaded with a tearful voice, “Your Majesty! The only solution now is to delay! We must immediately withdraw all our troops, reinforce the defenses of Shengjing, clear the fields and hold our ground! We must delay until their supplies run out, until the heavy snow blocks the mountains, and they will naturally retreat! We cannot gamble with the fate of the Qing Dynasty!”

Dai Shan's words represented the sentiments of the more mature and prudent faction, and seemed to represent the safest and most reliable approach.

However, before Huang Taiji could speak, Amin burst into a piercing laugh.

"Hahahaha! Big brother! I really underestimated you!" He pointed at Dai Shan, his face full of mockery.

"Defend? Defend and wait to die? Open your old eyes and see how many more days the food in this city can last."
Ten days? Or half a month?

"When our men are too hungry to even lift a knife, and the Ming army is at the city gates, what will we use to defend? Our mouths? I think you're just getting old, you've lived a life of ease for too long, and you've even lost the courage passed down from your ancestors!"

"You...you're being insolent!" Dai Shan was so angry that he trembled all over, pointing at Amin, unable to say a word.

"Only cowards defend cities!" Mangultai roared again, his large, fan-like hand already gripping the hilt of his sword. "The warriors of my Great Jin only die in battle, not starve to death defending a city!"

"You reckless fool! You're brave but reckless! You're going to lead everyone to their deaths!" Jirhalang finally spoke, coldly rebuking him.

"you……"

Inside Phoenix Tower, chaos erupted instantly, like a pot of boiling porridge.

The faction that supported taking the initiative to invade and plunder, and the faction that supported holding firm and waiting for the situation to change, were like two herds of mad bulls with bloodshot eyes, attacking each other and hurling insults incessantly.

"Enter the pass! Only by entering the pass can we survive!"

"That's courting death! That's walking right into a trap!"

"Coward! A coward who's afraid of death!"

"You idiot! All you know is reckless courage!"

His roar was like thunder, and his angry eyes were like fire.

Vulgar and offensive language echoed in the magnificent hall, shattering the facade of nobility.

Fear, anger, despair, suspicion... these negative emotions spread wildly in the air like an invisible plague, eroding everyone's reason.

Huang Taiji remained seated on his throne, his face ashen.

Looking down at his uncles and brothers, who were behaving so grotesquely, and at their faces contorted with fear, the last vestige of warmth in his heart turned to cold ashes.

This is the cornerstone upon which he seized power?
Is this what he, a prince or nobleman of the Qing Dynasty, is like?
A band of robbers who only know how to plunder, a pack of wild beasts driven mad by hunger!

Huang Taiji slowly closed his eyes, shutting out all the noise.

The fingernails had dug deeply into the flesh of the palm.

(End of this chapter)