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

September 24th, the fourth year of Chongzhen's reign, early in the hour of You (5-7 PM).

Zhang Chun, the military supervisor of Yongping under the Ming Dynasty, led an army of 40,000 across the Xiaoling River, preparing for a decisive battle with Huang Taiji.

All the generals and commanders gathered in the central command tent, awaiting Zhang Chunming's deployment for the next day.

Inside the tent, the tallow candles crackled as they burned. Zhang Chun stood at the head of the table, with Song Wei and Wu Xiang standing to his left and right, respectively. Deputy generals Zhang Hongmo and Meng Dao stood below, awaiting orders.

The 67-year-old civil official, though hoarse, spoke with great vigor: "Gentlemen, speed is of the essence in war. Our army has crossed the river and established a camp, only fifteen li from the Daling River. Commander Zu has been besieged for two months, and yesterday, the scouts who broke out of the city reported that the city has been killing horses for food."

He paused, then looked around at the generals in the tent. "If we delay any longer, I fear there will be a tragedy of cannibalism. We shall prepare food at dawn tomorrow and break camp and advance at the beginning of morning."

Beside the tent, the list of gunners for the four red-coated cannons and the formation diagram of the ten general cannons were laid out on the table.

This time, Zhang Chun mobilized 40,000 troops from the vicinity of Jinzhou, including more than 27,000 combat soldiers, hundreds of Franz Grenadier and Tiger Croucher cannons, 3,000 musketeers, and 7,000 Guan Ning Iron Cavalry, who were already armed and ready to go.

They were bound to defeat Huang Taiji in one fell swoop and lift the siege of Dalinghe.

Song Wei stood ramrod straight, his voice carrying a scholarly air, unlike his rugged appearance. "Rest assured, Councilor, I will ensure the wagon formation is properly set up and the artillery is well-stocked with gunpowder. If the Tartars dare to charge, I will make sure they are torn to pieces."

Wu Xiang leaned against the edge of the table, a faint smile playing on his lips.

His 5,000 Guan Ning cavalry were the vanguard of this battle. He lightly tapped the table, his tone relaxed: "I just wonder... will that slave chieftain Huang Taiji dare to engage in battle tomorrow?"

Zhang Chun nodded, seeing that the morale was good, but still had to give Wu Xiang a warning: "Huang Taiji is a brave and skilled warrior, and he is also good at using strategies. General Wu, you must not underestimate him."

Wu Xiang's expression turned solemn: "Lord Zhang is right, this humble servant..."

Just then, the curtain was suddenly thrown open, and the cold wind made the candlelight flicker wildly.

A messenger knelt on one knee, holding a military order high with both hands.

"Report! Urgent order from Jinzhou!"

Upon closer inspection, everyone noticed that the sealing wax on the military order bore the seal of Qiu Hejia, the governor of Liaodong.

Zhang Chun took it, unfolded it by candlelight, and read only three lines before the veins on the back of his withered hand bulged.

"Imperial Edict to Zhang Chun, Military Supervisor of Yongping: I have heard that you have crossed the Xiaoling River. However, the defenses of Jinzhou are weak. Wulizhuang is only five li from the city, and it is garrisoned by more than a thousand Tartar cavalry. I fear they may cut off our supply lines or take advantage of the situation to attack the city. I hereby order Vice Generals Zhang Hongmo, Zu Dale, Jin Guochen, and Meng Dao to lead their five thousand troops back immediately to attack Wulizhuang. Once you have captured it, then you can proceed to attack Daling River. This is my order!"

"Absurd!" Song Wei slammed his fist on the table, making the teacup jump. "The army has already crossed the river and set up camp. Now we're turning back to attack Wulizhuang? Not to mention that crossing the river a second time would only deplete morale, how can my central army's chariot and artillery battalion be protected if we divide our forces by 5,000? This order... this order is simply child's play!"

Wu Xiang slowly straightened up: "General Song, Governor Qiu is an imperial envoy and the governor of Jinzhou. His orders are military orders."

He glanced at Zhang Chun, now addressing him differently, "Master Zhang, what do you say?"

"A military order?" Song Wei laughed angrily. "Does Vice Commander Wu not know that Wulizhuang is a barren sandy hill with no natural defenses? The Tartars have stationed over a thousand cavalry, clearly a feint! If our main force splits its troops to counterattack, it will play right into Huang Taiji's hands! This isn't a military order, it's a death warrant!"

"Oh?" Wu Xiang raised an eyebrow. "General Song, are you implying that Governor Qiu is ignorant of military affairs? Or... are you going to disobey orders?"

Before he could finish speaking, Deputy General Zhang Hongmo stepped forward: "Wu Xiang! Stop with your sarcastic remarks! Do you really not know why Qiu Hejia issued this order?"

He turned to Zhang Chun, cupped his hands, and said, "General Zhang! Since taking office, Governor Qiu has wanted to seize military power. During this expedition, he has obstructed every discussion of the war. Now that we are about to have a major battle, he fears that the Commander-in-Chief will alone receive the credit for the siege relief, so he issued this foolish order, intending to divide power and create chaos!"

"Zhang Hongmo!" Wu Xiang's face darkened. "You, a mere deputy general, dare to presume to discuss the governor's military orders!? I see you as a coward, afraid of battle, using this as an excuse to shirk your duty! If you dare not go..."

He sneered and mocked, "I can lead the Guan Ning cavalry there and raze Wulizhuang to the ground in half a day!"

"You're going? Hahaha!" Zhang Hongmo laughed angrily. "Wu Xiang, who doesn't know what you're thinking? It's true that Zu Dashou is your brother-in-law, but if he dies in the city, you, the 'Deputy Commander-in-Chief of Guan Ning'... wouldn't you be able to take over the Zu family army?"

"presumptuous!!!"

Wu Xiang drew his sword half an inch, its cold light reflecting off the candle. Zhang Hongmo also stepped forward, his hand on his sword, and the other generals in the tent also placed their hands on their sword hilts.

Meng Dao, Jin Guochen, and others tried to stop or persuade them, and for a moment, shouts, shoving, and the sound of armor clashing filled the air.

"Enough!!!" Zhang Chun slammed his hand on the command table, causing the command quiver on the table to tip over.

The old man's chest heaved violently, and his gaunt cheeks flushed an unnatural red.

He braced himself on the table with one hand and clutched his chest with the other, gasping for breath before hoarsely uttering, "With a formidable enemy before us... you... you've turned on yourselves..."

He slowly sat down, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes again, only a resolute look remained in his cloudy eyes: "Messenger."

"exist!"

"Reporting back to Governor Qiu: The opportunity for battle is fleeting, and the lives of 40,000 soldiers and civilians in Dalinghe are hanging by a thread. I am determined to advance according to the original plan and engage the enemy in a decisive battle tomorrow."

He paused, then said, word by word, "The Tartar cavalry of Wulizhuang have no means of attacking the city, and the walls of Jinzhou are intact. Governor, you can defend the city with peace of mind and wait for our army's victory report."

The tent was deathly silent, and Zhang Hongmo, Song Wei, and the others looked ashamed.

Wu Xiang's face was gloomy. He took a deep breath, clasped his hands, and said, "Lord Zhang is wise."

"All of you, step back." Zhang Chun waved his hand, as if he had exhausted all his strength. "Tomorrow...a bloody battle."

The generals filed out, and before the tent flap fell, Wu Xiang's cold whisper could be faintly heard: "Zhang Hongmo, I have remembered what happened today..."

Zhang Chun sat alone in his tent, his fingers tracing the three characters "Da Ling He" on the map, murmuring softly, "General Zu... just one more day... just one more day..."

Outside the tent, the night wind howled past, whipping the camp flags into a fluttering sound.

————————————————————————————

Just as Zhang Chun was discussing matters with his generals in the tent, twenty miles northwest of the Xiaolinghe camp.

Wang Jie lay prone in the dry grass ditch, his nose pressed against the frozen soil, the stench of blood mixed with the stench of horse manure assaulting his senses.

Three hours ago, he led a team of scouts out of the camp to the north to scout the movements of the Tartar camp and see if there were any ambushes along the way.

The entire squad consisted of eleven men, each with two horses, all seasoned veterans. They moved silently into the night, their mouths gagged and their hooves wrapped in cloth.

Until that string of cannon fire exploded.

About ten miles to the northeast, a pillar of crimson fire exploded in the sky, a commotion that could probably be seen throughout the entire Dalinghe North Camp.

That was the sounding cannon of the Tartar scouts. Normally, when the Tartar scouts encountered the night guards, they would retreat as soon as they touched the enemy. If the Tartars were to fire a sounding cannon, which team would be chasing after the enemy cavalry to kill them?

"Which stupid team?!" his old partner muttered under his breath.

Wang Jie's heart sank. Once the cannon fired, all the Tartar patrols within a radius of twenty miles would rush over.

Sure enough, less than a quarter of an hour later, the first group of Tartar scouts came running up. Six riders, wearing cotton armor and carrying stiff bows, had obviously come to investigate after hearing the news.

They had no choice; when they met on a narrow path, their only option was to kill the enemy.

The bowstring vibrated, the blade pierced flesh, and short, agonizing screams echoed through the dense forest.

Two brothers were lost in the team, and the Tartars also left behind four corpses.

They dared not linger and fled southwest, abandoning the bodies.

The second wave of encounters came even faster, with four Tartars.

Another chaotic battle ensued, and the team's youngest member, "Little Hawk," was also eliminated.

The Tartars from the southwest were all moving this way, so they had no choice but to turn back and run northeast.

Now there are only eight men left, seven horses are lost, and arrows are almost gone.

On the other side of the withered grass slope, the faint sound of rapid hoofbeats could be heard, indicating another group of Tartar cavalry.

Wang Jie licked his chapped lips, the taste of blood spreading between his teeth.

That group chasing the Tartars... don't let me find out who they are!

"Get ready," he hissed in a low, hoarse voice.

Eight waist knives were quietly drawn from their sheaths.