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

As the hour of Yin approached, most of the lights in the camp went out.

Four men dressed in red armor and with their heads covered, known as "Ba Ya La," walked along the rammed earth path in the camp towards the east side of the camp.

The camp at this point was unusually quiet, with only the footsteps of patrolling soldiers and the crackling of burning pine torches.

Chen Feng and Wang Jie walked at the front of the group, using the pretext of patrolling the camp to observe the location of the sentry towers, the layout of the camp, and the level of defense.

Chen Feng's mind was racing, constantly verifying and refining the key points Meng Changgeng reported with what he saw before him.

"Zhao Sheng and his men will come out from the woods to the south." Chen Feng's voice was very low, but loud enough for the three people around him to hear clearly. "According to the agreement, we'll use the signal of a fire in the camp to launch a surprise attack on the main camp, creating a disturbance, and ideally, they'll be able to storm the Mongol camp. Once things get chaotic there, the attention of the entire main camp will be drawn to it."

"But how did Zhao Sheng know he would rush towards the Mongol camp?" Wang Jie asked.

Chen Feng pondered for a moment, "If we put two new torches on the stockade wall, will Zhao Sheng and the others be able to see them?"

Wang Jie glanced at the torches on the wall. This grain and fodder camp was probably designed for fire prevention. Although it was brightly lit inside, there weren't many torches on the wall. Only the arrow towers at the four corners and the two main gates had torches to illuminate the way for the soldiers patrolling on the wall.

Wang Jie nodded. "It should be possible. My team consists of veterans; they won't miss such an obviously abnormal situation."

"That's fine. We'll stick two torches on the wall with the flames facing east. The scholar mentioned earlier that he tied a strip of cloth to the Mongolian yurt."

Meng Changgeng said, "There's a brazier next to that strip of cloth. If they rush over there, you can see it immediately."

Wang Jie fell into deep thought, and finally could only nod: "That's the only way."

Next, the group discussed the evacuation plan from the arson site and the detonation plan.

According to Chen Feng's calculations, the explosion of the gunpowder depot would be equivalent to the explosion of 10 tons of TNT.

The shockwave could destroy all buildings within a hundred paces of the warehouse, and injure people within a three-hundred-pace radius. Only by escaping more than a mile away would one be safe.

The perimeter of the stockade wall of this grain depot was only four or five hundred paces, which means that after the gunpowder depot exploded, not only the grain depot but also the adjacent Mongol camp would be blown up.

So after they lit the fuse, they had to escape a mile away, and time was of the essence.

After hearing Chen Feng's words, Wang Jie's Adam's apple bobbed violently, and he was so shocked that he almost opened his mouth wide.

He had seen gunpowder barrels explode before, but he never imagined that this gunpowder depot would explode with such power.

He lowered his voice and repeated, "A madman, a real madman."

There was not a trace of reproach in his tone; his eyes were filled with fanaticism as he thought about how this move could blow up the entire Tartar camp.

As the group passed by the camp gate, they found a group of Mongols gathered there, shoving each other with the guards.

They seemed to be arguing about the alcohol that had been confiscated from them earlier, and Chen Feng knew something was wrong.

If these Mongols were to cause trouble in the Later Jin camp, it would indeed increase the chaos and the success rate of the night raids by the scouts outside, but the disguises they had made in the tents would also be quickly exposed.

They have too little time to ignite the fire; they must hurry.

Chen Feng whispered, "Split up! Hurry! Meet at the stable in two quarters of an hour at most!"

The four split into two groups and disappeared silently in different directions of the camp, like water droplets sinking into the sand.

Hao Dadao and Meng Changgeng went to the west side of the camp to set fire to the stockade walls and grain stacks to create chaos.

Chen Feng and Wang Jie went to the east side to take care of the gunpowder depot and the horses for the retreat.

After passing the hay shed, a separate area enclosed by a tall wooden fence came into view; this was the gunpowder depot.

When Chen Feng passed by earlier, he only felt that this place was darker than other places. But when he actually stepped inside, his eyes had just recovered from the light in the middle of the camp, and he couldn't see the scene inside the fence for a moment.

Two lanterns hung at the gate of the fence. Under their light, ten soldiers in cotton armor stood with their guns at the ready, their eyes scanning the darkness warily.

Inside the fence was a low but sturdy flat-roofed earthen and stone warehouse, dark and without windows.

Two oxcarts were parked quietly in the open space outside the gate, with wooden barrels full of gunpowder piled on them. The mouths of the barrels were carefully sealed with wet mud, and some cleaning tools were scattered around them.

Chen Feng and his companion headed straight for the entrance, whereupon the armored soldiers immediately brandished their spears and barked, "Halt! Who goes there? This is forbidden territory!"

Wang Jie stepped forward, his eyes coldly sweeping over the armored soldiers after he paused, without saying a word, and raised his hand to reveal a wooden waist token.

It was the Niru Ejen token taken from Gurtai's corpse.

The guards carefully examined the waist tags, then glanced at the two men's striking red armor. Their tense expressions eased slightly, and they put away their spears.

Wang Jie said in a gruff voice, "Ejen, check if the carts transporting gunpowder tomorrow have been properly sealed. Don't let this delay the important matters of the central army!"

Bashiku, the guard leader, had no suspicions and pointed to the two oxcarts.

Then Wang Jie pointed to the few people standing on the outside, "A group of Mongols have come to cause trouble in front of the camp gate. You guys go and help them. We don't have enough men to patrol tonight."

Nabashu exchanged a glance with his subordinate, a look of doubt in his eyes. Just as he was about to say something, Wang Jie interrupted him.

"Go quickly!"

Seeing that the Bayara was angry, Bashiku immediately knelt on one knee and said, "Yes, sir!"

Six soldiers left, and Bashiku led the remaining three men into the enclosure with Chen Feng and Wang Jie.

The group approached the carriage, and Wang Jie instructed Bashiku, "Go and open the mud seal to see if it's fully loaded with gunpowder."

"Yes, sir," Bashiku replied.

While the four men were moving the gunpowder barrel, Chen Feng and Wang Jie quietly drew their daggers from their waists.

Bashiku and his three companions unloaded the two barrels of gunpowder, opened them, and turned to report, "My lord..."

Before he could even open his mouth, a flash of bright light suddenly pierced the lamplight. Wang Jie gripped the blade with both hands and, using the momentum of his turn, slashed down fiercely at Wang Jie's head!

With a crisp "crack," Bashiku's head, along with his helmet, was split in two, and red and white matter mixed with scalding blood gushed out.

The other three armored soldiers were caught off guard. Just as one of them was about to shout, Chen Feng's sword came flying through the air.

With a flash of cold light, the blade slashed diagonally upwards across the armored soldier's neck, his head flying off with a thud, and a spurt of blood shot up half a foot high from his neck.

Chen Feng's offensive continued. While slashing horizontally, he thrust his left hand upwards, and a dagger shot out from his hand, piercing the neck of a Tartar.

The man's eyes widened, and he collapsed to his knees like a sheepskin bag that had been pierced.

The last soldier turned to run, but Chen Feng pushed off with his feet and charged into the soldier's arms, using his weight and the weight of his armor to knock the man to the ground.

With a flick of his right hand, he switched the slashing motion of the sword to a reverse grip, gripping it with both hands and thrusting it heavily into the chest of the person beneath him.

"Thud!" The blade pierced the flesh with a low, muffled sound.

The person beneath him convulsed violently a few times before collapsing.

Chen Feng killed three people in quick succession, while Wang Jie had just pulled his knife out of Nabashiku's head.

"Impressive skills!" Wang Jie exclaimed.

Chen Feng did not respond, but looked at the Tartar soldier on the ground whose neck had been pierced by a dagger.

The man clutched the dagger stuck in his neck with his hand, and bubbly blood kept oozing from between his fingers and from his mouth.

His eyes were wide open, revealing intense fear and a desperate desire to survive.

Chen Feng stared into the man's eyes, watching the flame of survival within them slowly die out.

Chen Feng pulled the dagger from the man's neck and ended his life with a swift stroke.

He stood up, drops of blood dripping from the tip of the knife.

Meanwhile, a hundred paces away, inside Orosesen's leather tent.

The guard entered the main tent, pressed his kneeling forehead against the felt blanket, and said, "Ejen... the Mongols are causing trouble in front of the camp gate."