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

As the hour of Chou (1-3 AM) drew to a close, white frost had already formed on the withered leaves in the forest.

Zhao Sheng squatted behind a crooked old elm tree, his fur coat wrapped tightly around him, yet he still felt the chill creeping up from the soles of his feet.

He had been squatting in this godforsaken place for almost two hours, and his legs were already numb, but he dared not move, afraid that if he moved, he would lose control of the fire in his heart.

More than seventy people and more than one hundred horses were hiding in this forest.

Without a campfire or conversation, the night scouts each found a tree to lean against, either sharing their dry rations or closing their eyes to rest, conserving their energy for the upcoming mission.

Three hundred paces away was the Later Jin's grain and fodder camp. The walls were not high, but they were brightly lit, and shadows moved on the watchtowers. Occasionally, the sound of patrolling cavalry could be heard.

Zhao Sheng's gaze was fixed on the stockade wall, not missing a single movement.

He's been watching them like this ever since Chen Feng and the other three were brought inside.

He saw them being led through the camp gate and disappear among the tents.

About half an hour later, Meng Changgeng followed a traitorous quartermaster out of the camp gate and swaggered toward the Mongol camp.

Then he saw something strange.

Meng Changgeng did not enter the Mongol camp, but instead made a mark on the outermost yurt.

What is the scholar supposed to do?

Zhao Sheng couldn't understand it, but he believed that Meng Changgeng wouldn't make baseless accusations.

About half an hour later, a commotion suddenly broke out in the Mongol camp.

A group of figures emerged from the yurt and surged noisily toward the gate of the Later Jin camp.

Hundreds of people quickly gathered in front of the camp gate and began shoving each other against the Later Jin soldiers guarding the gate.

Zhao Sheng's eyes lit up.

Was this arranged by the scholar?

He subconsciously looked toward the yurt with the strip of cloth on it; in the firelight, the grayish-white strip of cloth was particularly eye-catching.

Just then, Aji put his hand on his shoulder.

Zhao Sheng turned around abruptly and looked in the direction Aji was pointing. On the section of the stockade wall closest to them, a figure in red armor was standing by the battlements.

The man took a torch from behind his back, lit it, and then steadily inserted it into the iron ring at the edge of the crenellation, the flame pointing directly east.

After lighting the torches, the man turned around, revealing half of his body facing the woods.

Then he raised his hand and punched the wall next to him hard.

The movement was fierce. After throwing the punch, the man seemed to be wincing in pain, shook his hand on the spot, and then turned around and disappeared behind the stockade wall.

Zhao Sheng's breath caught in his throat for a moment.

Two days ago, in the fortified village where the army was stationed in Yizhou, he punched the wall like this and held that position for a long time.

Only Meng Changgeng and Hao Dadao knew about this. Judging from the red-armored figure, it must be Meng Changgeng, that pedantic scholar.

Recalling the marks Meng Changgeng had made on the yurt earlier, and considering the direction the torch was pointing, he understood that Meng Changgeng was indicating the direction of the attack.

Zhao Sheng grinned, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow from smoking.

"That damned scholar..." he muttered under his breath, but his tone betrayed barely suppressed excitement.

As soon as he spoke, the scouts around him all looked in his direction, seemingly ready to mount their horses.

"Wait a little longer," Zhao Sheng said in a low voice, gesturing for everyone to sit down again. "Wait for the fire to start."

Time passed slowly, a breath, two breaths, a cup of tea.

Zhao Sheng began to feel uneasy. He hadn't received a signal yet, and the commotion in the Tartar camp was growing louder. If this continued, Chen Feng and his men would be discovered sooner or later.

Just as he was about to lose control of his urge to get up, smoke drifted from the west side of the camp, and gradually flames shot out from above the stockade wall.

Zhao Sheng's pupils suddenly contracted.

He stood up, put two fingers of his right hand into his mouth, and whistled a sharp whistle.

The whistle pierced the night sky, and more than seventy night guards, whether squatting or sitting, all mounted their horses.

The swords were drawn, the bows were strung, and no one spoke, except for the occasional snorts of the horses.

Zhao Sheng mounted his horse and glanced at the dark figures in front of him.

"Brothers," he said in a low voice, "Commander Chen and Commander Wang risked their lives to set fire to the Tartar camp! The Tartar camp is in chaos!"

No one answered; only seventy-odd pairs of eyes shone in the darkness.

"Our mission is to stir up some wind and make this fire burn even brighter!" Zhao Sheng paused, a ferocious smile twisting his lips. "I know some people are afraid to charge the Tartar camp. They say the Tartar camp is heavily guarded, and charging in is just suicide! To be honest, I'm afraid too!"

As soon as the words "I wouldn't dare" were uttered, a low chuckle erupted from the crowd.

Zhao Sheng continued, "So Commander Chen is considerate of his brothers and has allowed me to lead you to kill the Mongols!"

Zhao Sheng drew his sword, its blade gleaming dark red in the distant firelight. "Don't linger, don't be greedy for kills. We'll set the fire and run! Escaping is our night scouts' specialty. If any little brat doesn't get away..."

Zhao Sheng looked around at everyone, "I'm going back to Jinzhou and carving his name on the city wall, so people will laugh at me for centuries! Do you all understand?!"

"Understood!" the seventy-odd people roared in unison.

Zhao Sheng spurred his horse, and the warhorse reared up, its front hooves landing three zhang (approximately 10 meters) ahead. "Go!"

More than seventy riders burst out of the woods like a black tide, circling south along the edge of the night.

No one spoke, no one lit torches, and in the night wind, only the dull thud of horses' hooves, wrapped in thick cloth, pounding on fallen leaves and mud.

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

Seltzer is going crazy.

He was the Grand Taiji of the Bahrain tribe and also the son-in-law personally appointed by Huang Taiji.

At this moment, he stood at the gate of the Later Jin camp, facing two groups of his own people and the soldiers of the Later Jin camp who were pushing and shoving each other.

Fifteen minutes ago, when Setel was dragged out of bed by Seren, his mind was still blank.

Once he figured out what was going on, he felt a rush of blood to the top of his head.

Baldan was a remnant of Nangnuk's forces, with over a hundred warriors under his command. He consistently opposed the Bahrain tribe's complete subordination to the Jin Dynasty, believing that continuing trade with the Ming Dynasty was the right path.

This time, the Balin tribe gathered 1,500 cavalrymen to support the Jin dynasty's attack on the Ming dynasty at Dalinghe, and naturally, they also brought Baldan and his men with them.

An hour ago, the quartermaster of the Great Jin army came to their county and confiscated all the alcohol, and punished two centurions for violating military orders.

The followers were agitated, and he had already sent his nephew, Sereng, to quell the unrest, but the effect seemed to be minimal.

A quarter of an hour ago, Baldan gathered more than two hundred people and went to the gate of the Great Jin camp to cause trouble, saying that he wanted an explanation.

"You damned bastard!" he cursed as he hurried toward the camp gate. "That dog Baldan is the one trying to kill our Balin tribe!"

Sereng followed behind him, his face equally grim: "Baldan said that the wine was obtained by his men from another tribe, not the 'military stock' mentioned in the camp's prohibition order. The Later Jin quartermaster was unreasonable and even used a whip..."

"Reason?" Seter whirled around, glaring at Selen. "You think you can reason with the Great Jin? Our Bahrain tribe is already in a precarious position. If we anger Orosechen, his two regiments will wipe out our thousand-plus men like sheep!"

When he rushed to the camp gate, he saw Baldan grabbing a Jin Bashiku by the collar, face to face, yelling something.

Hundreds of people surrounded them, half of whom were Baldan's men and the other half were soldiers from the Later Jin.

Torches flickered wildly, and curses filled the air.

"Baldan!!!" Sethel roared.

Upon hearing Setel's voice, Baldan's hand trembled and loosened Bashku's collar.

"Seteltaiji!" he said, his neck stiff and his voice hoarse, "You've come at the perfect time..."

"Shut up!" Seter rushed forward, lashing his horsewhip across the face. "Erossen said alcohol is forbidden during wartime! Even if you hid alcohol in your crotch, it's still a violation! You dog, leading men to storm the Great Jin's camp! Are you trying to rebel?! Don't drag me down with you!"

The whip cracked against the flesh.

Enraged by the whipping, Baldan grabbed Sethel's riding crop with one hand and his fur robe with the other. "Sethel! Don't go too far!"

When Baldan's men saw their Taiji being attacked, they immediately erupted in chaos, howling and surging forward.

Seleng and a dozen of his cronies quickly intervened, but the two sides collided, and the pushing and shoving escalated into a brawl.

In the chaos, someone drew a scimitar, and the scene instantly turned into a standoff between two groups of people with their swords drawn.

"Don't use the knife!" Seltler's shout was distorted.

The Later Jin general Bashiku was also anxious and hurriedly sent people to the camp to find the two Ejen (chieftains). The surrounding soldiers also drew their weapons.

Setel was extremely anxious and kept looking into the camp gate.

But what about Orosechen? What about Gultai? These two officials, who should have appeared immediately, are nowhere to be seen!

Time ticked by, and the number of people from the three sides grew larger and larger, with the situation potentially turning into a three-way firefight at any moment.

At this moment, a wisp of smoke drifted into the camp, and the smoke grew thicker and thicker.

Everyone paused for a moment, turning their heads to look at the west side of the camp.

From the direction of the grain stack, flames had already reached above the top of the tent in front of them, and at this moment, a large tent deep in the camp was also engulfed in a towering pillar of fire!

Seter's pupils suddenly contracted, and Bashiku in front of the camp gate quickly dispersed the crowd to put out the fire, telling someone to inform Orosechen Ejen.

Sethel's riding whip slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but couldn't utter a word.

The Jin dynasty's supply depot is on fire.

He, the Beile of the Bahrain tribe, led a group of people to cause trouble at the camp gate, attracting the attention of the guards...

He turned around abruptly and looked at Baldan.

Baldan was also looking at him, his face full of confusion.

Seter collapsed to the ground, muttering, "It's over... the Bahrain tribe is finished..."

That's right, no matter what the Balin tribe did tonight, the blame for the burning of the grain supplies will definitely fall on their shoulders.

After the events at Dalinghe are over, the Bahrain tribe will face annihilation.

Baldan's mind finally came to a head. The Balin tribe had truly offended the Jurchens. He had to lead his men back to the desert, gather his followers, and flee for their lives.

He glanced at Sethel, who was slumped on the ground, and then at the ever-growing fire on the west side.

With a determined look, he led his men and retreated into the darkness.