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

Besides taking away several Ming soldiers who had fled, the artillery bombardment also killed a Bayara man and his horse. This friendly fire caused chaos among the pursuing troops behind them.

In the distance, the Bayara people were babbling incomprehensible Manchu, and judging from their tone, it didn't sound like they were saying anything nice.

Before Chen Feng could recover from the sudden death of the veteran, a deafening battle cry rang out behind him.

Chen Feng turned around and saw a black line of Later Jin Han soldiers rushing towards the Ming army from the spot where the main cavalry force had started its charge.

"Uphill! Quickly!" He Mingxiao's voice was almost desperate.

The last thirty steps became a hellish path, with arrows raining down like locusts, and people constantly groaning and falling to the ground.

Chen Feng dragged a young soldier with an arrow wound in his leg into the area of ​​rubble.

This rocky slope has rocks as tall as a person, forming a complex natural barrier.

The Later Jin army pursued the enemy to the edge of Luanshipo, but did not attack rashly. They left a dozen or so Bayara soldiers on the outside to shoot arrows inward to suppress the enemy, while the rest went back to continue to slaughter the fleeing soldiers on the flat ground.

He Mingxiao had dismounted and was leaning against a boulder, panting. The wounded soldiers who had carried the flag and the flag bearers had fallen behind during the escape and were now dead somewhere.

Outside the bunker, arrows were thrown in from all directions, striking the rocks with a clang.

A few more unintelligible Manchu words came from behind the stone, and the rain of arrows gradually thinned out.

Seeing that the pressure had eased slightly, a young soldier's survival instinct overwhelmed everything, and he suddenly darted out from behind the cover and ran towards the woods not far away.

Seeing this, He Mingxiao quickly stopped him, "Don't move!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than several arrows pierced the soldier's body. He fell forward, his limbs twitched a few times, and then he was lifeless.

He Mingxiao closed his eyes in pain, and the remaining dozen or so soldiers dared not make any further moves.

Taking a breather, Chen Feng began to check his belongings: a chipped waist knife, a short-handled mace, a musket that might explode, a bag of gunpowder, and a few bullets. In his pocket were a few Wanli Tongbao coins, half a hard, rock-hard cake, and a small amulet with the words "Peace" faintly engraved on it.

Chen Feng sat down against a rock and closed his eyes. He needed to sort out his thoughts: he had transmigrated to the late Ming Dynasty, to Liaodong or Liaoxi, and was now a defeated soldier, surrounded, and most likely going to die.

This is a philosophical question, but it's very practical right now: If death is inevitable, how should one die?

He remembered what his sergeant from his previous life had said: "If you join the army, you must be prepared to die in battle. But before you die, you must know why you are carrying a gun."

Why carry a gun?

For the country? For honor? For mission?

Now? Why are you holding a knife?

It was all just about surviving. All notions of national duty or the mystery of time travel gave way to the obsession with survival.

"Listen up, everyone!" He Bixiao's voice rang out, and everyone looked over. "Today, all of you brothers will follow me back to Jinzhou! You will all be accepted into the ranks of the He family's retainers! Each will receive two taels of silver per month!"

A commotion broke out among the crowd.

One of the impetuous men who had previously been shouting about rushing out to kill the enemy exclaimed, "Really!?"

A Ming soldier dressed as a personal guard said with a firm expression, "Does Commander He think he's lying to you?! Commander He's uncle is Governor He! He never owes you pay!"

The crowd discussed it again, and the atmosphere eased a little.

Another rapid clatter of hooves sounded, and the lookout soldier cried out, "The Tartars are back!"

Chen Feng peered out and saw that more than twenty riders were heading east. A hundred feet to the east was the end of the rocky outcrop, from which they could bypass the rocky outcrop and go straight into the dense forest behind them.

"They're trying to outflank us!" the lookout exclaimed.

This shout instantly dissipated the little morale that He Mingxiao had just gathered.

Chen Feng glanced at the sky and the increasingly thick fog around them, knowing they couldn't wait any longer. He shouted, "Run! into the woods! Split up!"

"Listen to him! Split up and run. If anyone survives, come find me in Jinzhou!" He Mingxiao mounted his horse and gave his final instructions.

The sky had completely darkened, and the increasingly thick fog provided excellent cover. The survivors scattered in all directions, desperately rushing into the dark forest behind them.

Seeing that their "turtle in a jar" dared to scatter, the Later Jin soldiers outside the stone slope drew their bows and fired arrows. However, the dim light and drifting fog severely hampered their aim and greatly reduced their power.

After running more than a hundred paces, Chen Feng only heard a few screams, and the arrows that had been shot at him had lost most of their force, which put Chen Feng at ease.

Just then, the sound of horses' hooves and the shouts of the Later Jin army came from the woods to the west. The Later Jin army that had circled around earlier had arrived.

In the dim light, Chen Feng saw He Mingxiao's two personal guards being easily killed by several Bayara soldiers of the Later Jin army, as if they were cutting melons and vegetables.

He Mingxiao swayed on his horse, seemingly struck by a new arrow in the back or rib, but he still pressed down on the saddle and galloped towards the darkness to the north.

For a moment, Chen Feng had the idea of ​​firing a gun to provide cover, but the Later Jin army was pursuing him closely. If he fired a gun at that moment, he would definitely suffer the same fate as those two personal guards.

Chen Feng gritted his teeth, gripped the steel knife in his hand even tighter, and headed deeper into the dense forest to the northeast.

After escaping for another quarter of an hour, Chen Feng rushed out of the edge of the dense forest, but his foot slipped and he stepped into the water.

Chen Feng nearly tumbled into the water. Looking closely, he saw a vast river blocking his way, the one whose opposite bank he couldn't see. It must have been the same river he had seen when he regained consciousness.

He felt the icy touch coming from his right foot; the river water was clearly close to freezing.

As Chen Feng was weighing the risks of going into the water, he heard the sound of rushing water and the chatter of several Later Jin Tartars coming from the middle of the river. Chen Feng hurriedly fled the riverbank and retreated back into the woods.

Chen Feng recalled the words shouted by the officer who had died tragically at the beginning: "The Tartar camp is to the east."

Where exactly did I travel to? Judging from He Mingxiao's words, Jinzhou hasn't fallen yet. Was it the Battle of Dalinghe or the Battle of Songjin? Or perhaps the earlier Battle of Ningjin and Ningyuan?

Chen Feng abruptly shook his head, banishing his chaotic thoughts and focusing on the present. Now surrounded by enemies on the east, west, and south, his only option was to flee north.

Chen Feng curled up in a clump of trees in the forest and held his breath.

Five Later Jin cavalrymen rode past the bushes where Chen Feng was lying, chatting and laughing. Several Ming soldiers' heads were hanging on their saddles. Chen Feng recognized one of them; it was the young soldier he had dragged into the rubble when he fled.

Chen Feng closed his eyes tightly. The faces of his fallen comrades from his previous life intertwined with the countless moments of death he witnessed today, and emotions of grief and anger surged in his heart.

He dug his nails into his palms, using the pain to force himself to remain calm. Rushing out now would only result in a pointless death; it wouldn't change anything.

Only when the sound of horses' hooves had completely faded into the distance did he slowly loosen his clenched fists as if he were exhausted, and quietly leave his hiding place.

He forced his surging emotions back to the bottom of his heart, and took one last look to the south, where he could still faintly hear screams coming from below.

He immediately turned and stepped north into the deeper darkness.