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

When Gultai arrived at Orosechen's leather tent, Orosechen had just returned from his patrol and was washing his face with a basin of cold water.

Seeing Gultai enter, he casually tossed the cloth into the basin and asked gruffly, "What is it? Is Nikan settled in?"

"Reporting to Ezhen," Gultai bowed, "I just went to investigate. The merchant was almost hysterical with joy after hearing that the Great Khan had bestowed a title upon him, and he swore to give away all his wealth to repay the Emperor's grace. His behavior was genuine, and in my opinion, his identity should be without question."

Upon hearing this, Orosechen snorted, "What does it matter if a Nikan merchant is real or fake? Even if he is fake, with me in charge of the camp, what can he do? Since the Khan has said to appease him, then do as he says."

"You are absolutely right, sir." Gultai could only nod in agreement as he looked at his young and impetuous superior.

Then, changing the subject, he lowered his voice, "But this Nikan... is quite sensible and generous. He personally said that when he returns to Yizhou, he will send 50,000 taels of silver to thank Ejen and me for our 'protection.' What do you think, when we send him back to Yizhou tomorrow... should I personally go? So that Nikan won't renege on his debt later."

"Fifty thousand taels?" Orosechen paused for a moment as he wiped himself, a genuine interest finally appearing in his eyes.

He recalled Huang Taiji's usual remarks to his ministers about the Han people: "They are usable but not trustworthy; they must be driven by profit and intimidated by power."

"These Nikans are all slaves, their property belongs to our Manchus. How can a mere 50,000 taels be given to beggars?!" A greedy glint appeared on Orosechen's lips.

He stood up, his imposing shadow swaying in the lamplight on the tent wall. "Send him back properly, and make sure these lackeys understand that the 'favor' of my Great Jin cannot be repaid with a mere fifty thousand taels! Let him weigh how much he should spit out himself. If he can't weigh it... humph!"

"Yes, sir!" Gultai's eyes flashed with understanding, "If he can't decide, I will decide for him!"

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At the same time, Shen Qinghe hunched his shoulders and followed half a step behind Meng Changgeng, listening to the instructions of his soon-to-be master who was about to join the banner.

Meng Changgeng, on the other hand, swaggered around, shaking his head arrogantly, his gaze occasionally sweeping over the patrol situation in the camp and the blind spots of the sentry towers.

The roads in the camp were simply compacted with rammed earth, and there was a passage in the middle of the camp where the wheel tracks of horse-drawn carriages and dense footprints were clearly visible.

The west side of the camp mainly contained staple and non-staple grains. The staple grains were piled up in small hills, with dry straw and wooden boards as the base, and covered with yellow earth and reed mats, making it very effective in preventing moisture and fire.

However, several stacks of grain had already been dug up, and the surrounding area was filled with oxcarts loaded with grain, which should be the rations to be sent to the central army tomorrow.

On the east side of the camp is the gunpowder depot you see when you enter. It is guarded by two squads of armored soldiers. Two oxcarts outside the gate have been loaded, and the wooden barrels have been sealed with yellow earth. At this time, several bondservants are cleaning up the scattered gunpowder.

The stables, located on the northwest side of the camp, housed about a hundred warhorses and were adjacent to the hay and fodder area. Fire prevention measures were also in place.

Looking at the heavily guarded camp, it would be a lie to say that Meng Changgeng wasn't a little uneasy, but on the surface he still maintained a calm and composed demeanor.

"Little Shen," Meng Changgeng began, his usual smug, domineering tone emanating from him, "you said you've been working for the Great Jin for three years?"

Shen Qinghe dared not show the slightest disrespect to this soon-to-be master who was about to join the Manchu banner. He knew that what these bondservants hated most were not the Manchu bannermen, but these Han Chinese who had risen to power.

He answered cautiously, "Yes...yes, it's been three years."

"Three years..." Meng Changgeng drawled, clicking his tongue, "Have you joined the banner yet?"

"Replying to Master Li, not yet." He secretly glanced at the soon-to-be master who was about to join the banner, feeling a pang of jealousy.

"Tsk, little Shen, no offense, but you're taking a rather narrow path."

Shen Qinghe's face flushed, and he wanted to retort, but considering that the other party was a favorite of "Young Master Liang," he had no choice but to swallow his anger and say, "Master Li is right... but promotion in this camp is based on military merit, and I am just a Han Chinese..."

"Military achievements?" Meng Changgeng scoffed. "That's all about the master's word! Look at me, I've only been with our young master for a few days. The key is what? Loyalty! And using your brain!"

He paused, "For example, today, when you encountered trouble on the road, it was me! I risked my life to protect you and fight my way out! When you needed to take care of some 'private matters,' it was me who served you, helping you... undress and clean up."

When he said "to undress and clean up the mess," he was naturally referring to his act of dissecting Liang Siye's corpse. However, Shen Qinghe interpreted these words differently.

Shen Qinghe was taken aback at first. He carefully examined this "Master Li". Although this "Master Li" was a bit dark-skinned, upon closer inspection, one could see that he had delicate features and bright eyes. Indeed, some masters in the camp had a taste for him.

He involuntarily clenched his anus, a fine layer of sweat breaking out on his back, and his gaze towards "Master Li" became complicated.

There was both disdain and a twisted excitement that was hard to describe. The original jealousy was strangely diluted, and there was even a faint feeling that this might be... a way out?

"Master Li... truly... deeply trusted by the master." Shen Qinghe offered a dry compliment. "This servant is foolish and will ask Master Li for guidance in the future."

"No problem, no problem." Meng Changgeng waved his hand, adopting the air of someone who had been through it all, but his eyes were not idle, trying to absorb everything around him into his mind.

As the two walked through the camp, soldiers frequently stopped them. Whenever they were stopped, Meng Changgeng saw Shen Qinghe take out a waist token from his pocket, and the soldiers would let them pass after checking the token.

Before they knew it, the two had already explored most of the camp area, but they really hadn't found even half a jug of wine.

"This wretched camp, can't we even find a drop of wine?" Meng Changgeng complained, feigning annoyance. "Our master is in a good mood, wanting a drink but can't find anything. What bad luck!"

Shen Qinghe hurriedly said, "Master Li, it's not that I'm trying to shirk responsibility. Master Erosaichen is strict with his troops. He confiscated all the wine stored in the camp before the battle, fearing it would cause problems. Not to mention here, even in the tents of the various Niru Ejen, there isn't a single jar to be found right now."

"Hmph." Meng Changgeng curled his lip, his eyes darting around, and suddenly pointed to the other side of the camp, "Over there... is that the Mongol camp?"

"Yes, it's the men of Beile Seter of the Balin tribe," Shen Qinghe replied.

Meng Changgeng slapped his thigh: "The Mongols love wine, they can't go without it even when they're on a march! They must have some in their camp! Come on, Xiao Shen, let's go check over there! We can't go back empty-handed and spoil our master's fun!"

"Ah? To the Mongolian camp?" Shen Qinghe looked troubled. "Master Li, this... might not be in accordance with the rules..."

"What are you afraid of?" Meng Changgeng glared at him. "We're working for our master! When the Liang family did business with the Mongol tribes, weren't all those Taijis extremely polite? Enough talk, lead the way! Can you take responsibility if you mess up our master's business?"

Shen Qinghe was intimidated by his imposing manner. Recalling the arrogance of "Young Master Liang," and fearing that his master, Gultai, would blame him for the negligence, he could only grit his teeth and say, "Then... Master Li, come with me. Let's go around to the side and not bump into their scouts."

Shen Qinghe summoned two bannermen to escort the two men toward the Mongol army camp. After passing through three checkpoints, the two finally arrived at the Mongol camp.

Before even entering the camp, Meng Changgeng could smell a strong muttony smell and a sour milky smell, which made him frown.

The Mongol camp was completely different from the Later Jin camp. There were no flags or signs, and the yurts were scattered randomly. Occasionally, one could see carts and sheepdogs placed haphazardly between them.

Several campfires were scattered among the campsites, and a few Mongolian men dressed in fur robes danced around them, passing wine sacks among the shadows.

According to Meng Changgeng's estimation, the Mongol camp was separated from the gunpowder depot by only one wall. The Tartars made full use of the Mongols as a buffer to prevent the gunpowder from being attacked from the outside.

If the Ming army intended to attack the gunpowder depot from outside the camp, they would either have to capture the Jin army camp or break through the Mongol camp and then scale the camp wall.

Regardless of which side they choose, given the current strength of the Ming army, it is absolutely impossible to succeed unless they launch an attack with tens of thousands of troops.

Those treacherous dogs are quite cunning.

As Meng Changgeng thought this, his expression brightened with delight. "Little Shen, look what I said!? The wine's here!"

Shen Qinghe said with a fawning smile, "Master Li is wise!"

Meng Changgeng raised his chin. "Go and confiscate all the wine from those Mongolian barbarians. Do these lackeys even deserve to drink?"

"Yes!" After saying that, Shen Qinghe led two bannermen and swaggered towards the Mongol camp.

Shen Qinghe dared not show his teeth to those important figures of the Later Jin, but he was utterly ruthless towards these Mongols, especially the Bairin tribe, which was not favored by the Great Khan. He immediately accused them of violating military orders and confiscated all the alcohol in the camp.

The Bairin tribe had only formally submitted to the Later Jin for three years. Although it followed Huang Taiji in his campaigns in the south and north, its strength had been greatly diminished due to the repeated attacks by Ligdan Khan and the Later Jin.

In the Battle of Dalinghe, the Taiji Seter of the Balin tribe wanted to lead his tribal warriors to gain more military merits, but his nephew Sereng wanted to preserve their strength and was unwilling to let the tribal warriors go forward to fight to their deaths.

It was precisely because of the disagreement between the uncle and nephew that, in the two months since the start of the war, the Bahrain tribe not only had mediocre military achievements, but was also relegated to guarding the supply camp in the rear before the major battle.

Huang Taiji even publicly criticized: "The princes of Balin have entrusted their lives to me. They should have taken the lead and fought with all their might, but instead they are stingy with their horses and slow to advance."

Huang Taiji's criticism put the Bairin tribe in the spotlight, and all the Mongol tribes took advantage of the situation to attack the Bairin tribe.

It was precisely because of this situation that the remnants of Nangnuk's forces began to cause trouble in the tribe again, and voices began to question the decision to surrender to the Later Jin.

Tonight, the Bahrain tribe has once again been accused of violating military orders. Not only were two centurions whipped, but all their alcohol was also confiscated.

While Shen Qinghe was confiscating the Mongolians' alcohol, Meng Changgeng secretly tore a piece of cloth from under his clothes and tied it to the outermost yurt when no one was looking.

He glanced at the direction where Zhao Sheng and the others were lying in ambush, then turned and walked towards Shen Qinghe, who was "returning in triumph".