Late Ming Dynasty: From the Defeated Soldiers at Daling River to Ascending the Throne

Chen Feng, along with the few people who were still able to move, buried the comrades who had died the previous night.

The snowflakes melted into water, which soaked the newly turned soil, turning it a dark color.

There was no coffin, not even a straw mat. Old Pu initially wanted to wrap the remains in a captured fur robe, but Chen Feng stopped him, saying the fur robe had to be kept, as the living person would still be useful.

Liu Mancang had no body, only his head was buried at the very edge.

Hao Dadao knelt before Liu Mancang's grave, saying nothing, but repeatedly slamming his forehead into the soil beneath him.

Old Pu squatted by the grave, his thin body hunched over, singing a eulogy for the children he was talking about. Chen Feng couldn't understand what he was singing, but he felt that it was melodious and sad.

Chen Feng watched silently. He hadn't spent much time with these people, and now their appearances were already somewhat blurry to him.

But as emotions surged within me, deep-seated memories were unearthed, and those equally young faces, forever frozen in time, appeared before my eyes.

"Green hills everywhere bury loyal bones, why need a horse's hide to wrap the corpse for return?"

Chen Feng poured the captured mare's milk wine in front of the grave; it was the only decent offering he could come up with in this deep mountain forest.

"Brothers, rest assured, I, Chen Feng, swear that I will lead the troops back and bring you home!"

After saying that, he suddenly straightened his body, raised his right arm, put his five fingers together, and placed his fingertips firmly against his temple, giving a standard military salute to the few simple graves.

Everyone else was stunned, not understanding what he meant.

But looking at Chen Feng's solemn profile, they exchanged glances, and then, mimicking Chen Feng, slowly raised their arms and held their hands to their foreheads.

After composing himself, Chen Feng called everyone back to the house.

As Chen Feng passed by the horses, he saw several human heads hanging on the saddles, and a sense of unease rose from the bottom of his heart.

While cleaning up the battlefield last night, he saw Zhao Sheng and Hao Dadao excitedly beheading several Mongolians, and he almost thought he had returned to a primitive tribe on the African savanna.

He kept telling himself that beheading for merit was the rule of advancement in this era, and that he might have to rely on this method to gain a foothold in the future.

But emotionally, he found it hard to accept. As a civilized person born in a peaceful country, he found this behavior very offensive.

Back inside the house, the captured Arbanayan had been thrown on the ground.

The room wasn't very big to begin with, and this thing in the middle took up almost half the space. Chen Feng ordered, "Why is it in the room? It's too cramped. Drag it out!"

Zhao Sheng and Aji responded and dragged the person outside into the snow.

Chen Feng called everyone back to interrogate the prisoners. He had already interrogated them on the way, but the Mongol Tartar was very stubborn and wouldn't say a word.

Chen Feng sat on a rock and slowly began, "Ask him about the defenses around Yizhou and where the Tartars' grain supplies are stored."

Aji licked his chapped lips and relayed the message in Mongolian.

Alban didn't even lift his eyelids, but snorted out a puff of white air from his nose and exhaled a series of rapid syllables.

"He said," Aji tried to understand, "The eagle of the grassland... is not afraid... Han dogs... If you kill me, Tengri will take my soul... Your souls will be devoured by wild dogs..."

Zhao Sheng sneered, "Does a defeated general even deserve to mention the Eternal Heaven?"

After saying that, he threw a punch.

Alban glared at Zhao Sheng and roared a few words in Mongolian.

"He said we were...cowards and challenged us to a duel," Aji translated.

"A duel? You're not worthy!?" Zhao Sheng's voice was even harsher.

They fought for a long time, until Zhao Sheng's fists were numb, but Alban still didn't say a single useful word.

Chen Feng waved his hand to signal Zhao Sheng to stop. He knew that punches and kicks were not very effective against this so-called tough guy, and could easily kill him if he wasn't careful.

What this prisoner needs is psychological torture, to instill fear in him, so we must use methods beyond the imagination of people in this era.

Chen Feng pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly trying to mentally prepare himself.

Later armies were strictly disciplined and did not allow the mistreatment of prisoners. Chen Feng had not received professional training in torture, but he had received anti-torture training and had some experience with it, so he knew which methods were relatively brutal and effective.

Chen Feng looked at Meng Changgeng, who was standing by with his arms crossed, watching the show. "Scholar, go and whittle some thin skewers."

"Zhao Sheng, gag him so he doesn't make too much noise and attract the Tartars."

Both of them complied.

"What are you going to do?!...Ugh..." Alban finally roared in broken Chinese, but his mouth was gagged before he could finish speaking.

He didn't know what Chen Feng wanted to do, he just kept making "woo-woo" noises, his eyes filled with unease.

Before long, Meng Changgeng returned with several wooden skewers, and Hao Dadao and Old Putou from inside the house also gathered around.

Chen Feng picked up a stone and squatted down in front of Alban, playing with a wooden stick in his hand. He asked Aji to translate, "Tell him that it's okay if he doesn't cooperate later, but if he is willing to cooperate, he should nod, and I will stop here."

After Aji translated, Alban began to struggle, but Hao Dadao and Zhao Sheng joined forces to hold him down.

"Scholar," Chen Feng shouted, "Straighten his fingers!"

Meng Changgeng didn't know what Chen Feng was planning to do until he saw Chen Feng drive the wooden stick in his hand into the gap between the Mongol's fingers.

Meng Changgeng felt a tingling sensation on his scalp, and his fingers seemed to be experiencing phantom pain, causing his hands to tremble as he pressed his fingers.

Zhao Sheng and Hao Dadao reacted similarly, while Lao Putou couldn't bear to watch any longer and went straight back to his house.

The eagle on the grassland ultimately couldn't withstand the methods of the Beiyang government. After a bamboo skewer was driven into the nail of the third finger on its right hand, it nodded weakly.

Chen Feng pinched the bridge of his nose again, let out a long sigh, "If only he had just cooperated earlier."

Zhao Sheng looked at Chen Feng as if he were a monster, feeling a tightness in his throat and a terrifying thought flashing through his mind—the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Although the Jinyiwei's strength has greatly diminished since His Majesty ascended the throne, its name still serves to stop children from crying at night.

Could this imposter commander be a former member of the Imperial Guard?

Judging from Chen Feng's demeanor and movements when carrying out the torture, he was clearly a novice. But if he hadn't come from the Embroidered Uniform Guard, how could he have known such torture methods?

Zhao Sheng felt increasingly unable to understand Chen Feng, and a sense of fear began to grow in his heart towards him.

Alban's restraints were removed, and his clothes were soaked with sweat. After a long time, his body continued to twitch from the pain.

After he calmed down for a while, Chen Feng asked, "Name?"

Aji responded in Mongolian, though his voice trembled slightly.

"Bartel..."

Chen Feng nodded in satisfaction and continued, "How many troops are there in Yizhou?"

........................

After some questioning, Chen Feng roughly figured out the situation: because the main force of the Later Jin was besieging Dalinghe, Yizhou and the surrounding forts in the rear were extremely vulnerable. There was only one Niru stationed in the city, and the garrison commander was named Irgen Gioro Nashan, who was under the command of Lenggeli.

The Tartars built a granary on the banks of the Daling River, twenty miles east of Yizhou City, which became the main source of food supplies for the entire besieging force.

Batel also revealed that a large caravan had recently entered Yizhou from Zhenyuan Pass, bringing with it a large amount of grain and fodder.

In addition, there is a collapsed gap in the northwestern section of the Great Wall in Yiju. Although the terrain is dangerous, small groups of people can try to sneak out of the pass through this gap.

After organizing the useful information, Chen Feng waved his hand and made a throat-slitting gesture. Aji nodded and dragged Batel away.

He muttered to himself in a voice only he could hear, "There is no Geneva Convention in this era."

Chen Feng looked at the crowd and noticed that the way the three of them were looking at him had changed.

Hao Dadao stood with his hands tightly behind his back, a somewhat obsequious smile on his face. "Boss, from today onwards, whatever you say goes! Even if you asked me to rush into the Tartar camp right now and kill Huang Taiji, I wouldn't hesitate!"

Meng Changgeng ran over and gently massaged Chen Feng's shoulders. "Boss, are you tired? Sit down and rest."

"Get out of here!"

"Don't do that! Boss, from now on you're my grandfather..."