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

When the messenger arrived at the camp gate, more than a hundred people were crowded inside, and the noise could be heard across half the camp.

The guard pushed through the crowd, found Setel, and knelt on one knee: "Beile Setel, Orosechen Ejen has ordered: there are not enough men in the camp. Please have the Balin tribe immediately go with the camp troops to the west camp to put out the fire."

Seltzer felt a sense of relief.

It's not about assigning blame, it's about getting Bahrain's help to put out the fire.

This suggests that Orosechen has no immediate intention of pursuing responsibility for the disturbance at the Bahrain camp gate. If he had contributed to the firefighting efforts, there might still be a glimmer of hope for him.

"Alright, alright!" He nodded hurriedly, turned around and waved to his tribesmen behind him, "Did you all hear that? Quickly, follow the warriors of the Great Jin and go to the western camp to put out the fire!"

The Mongolian men looked at each other in bewilderment. Some of them were still shouting for an explanation, but Seter kicked them back.

"What explanation are you demanding? Let's put out the fire first!"

The clansmen then reluctantly followed the soldiers to the western camp.

Sethel stood inside the camp gate, watching the surging crowd, and suddenly felt that something was missing.

Where is Baldan? Why has he disappeared?

He stood on tiptoe and looked around, searching, but he couldn't see Baldan anywhere, nor could he find any of his dozens of men.

A sense of unease welled up in Sethel's heart.

Just as he was concerned about Baldan, the sound of rapid hoofbeats came from the east.

Sethel turned his head sharply, but his vision could not penetrate the darkness; he could only hear the sound of horses' hooves.

From the southeast corner of the watchtower, a sentry's shout ripped through the night: "Enemy attack! Ming army night attack! One hundred cavalry!"

A hundred paces away in the darkness, a cluster of bright yellow flames shot into the night sky and exploded, illuminating half of the Mongolian camp.

Half a breath later, dozens of torches lit up at the same time, rushing into the Mongol camp with unstoppable force.

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

The scouts slowly made their way from the woods to the south of the Mongol camp, their horses' hooves wrapped in thick cloth to make as little noise as possible.

When they were 150 paces from the camp gate, Zhao Sheng suddenly cracked his whip, and his warhorse unleashed its power, reaching its maximum speed.

At the same time, he lit the firecracker in his hand and fired it into the night sky directly in front of him, "Thump—Bang!!!"

As the light from the cannon blast illuminated the road ahead, seventy night scouts behind them spurred their horses forward.

Everyone raised their torches, the fire ropes around their waists already lit, tiny sparks flickering in the night wind.

The Mongol camp was right in front of us.

There were no trenches, only two sparse fences, and barricades were placed at the camp gate, but only half of them were in place.

Zhao Sheng felt a slight sense of relief. This was the Mongolian people he knew; they were so unrefined in both setting up camp and marching.

One hundred steps, and you'll be there in no time.

The guards outside the camp gate had just heard the sound of horses' hooves and the alarm when they hurriedly raised their weapons.

A lone rider burst through the darkness like the wind and arrived in the blink of an eye.

"Bang!"

The centurion at the front was knocked away by the horse, his chest caved in, and the blood spurting from his mouth splattered onto Zhao Sheng's horse's legs.

Zhao Sheng didn't stop. He swung his saber, and another guard's head flew off at an angle, blood spurting from his neck.

The seventy night cavalry behind them skillfully maneuvered their horses around the barricades and surged into the Mongol camp like a tide.

The Mongols in the camp had just emerged from their tents, most of them wearing only fur robes and carrying various weapons.

Some of the slower-reacting ones were still looking around when, as soon as they turned their heads, a flash of bright light appeared before their eyes.

Some quick-thinking individuals tried to reach for their horses, but after only two steps, they were knocked down by the warhorses, their hooves trampling their bodies into a bloody pulp.

"Three-barreled gun!" someone shouted.

Several night scouts reined in their horses, drew three-barreled guns from their waists, brought the match cords to the ground, and the fuse hissed and smoked.

"Bang! Bang! Bang—!"

The three-barreled gun spat out flashes of fire, and iron pellets rained down on a group of Mongols who had just rushed out of the tent.

The person at the front had his face instantly turned into a bloody mess, and he collapsed to the ground screaming in agony, clutching his face. The people behind him turned and ran.

One of the night watchmen threw out a watermelon cannon, which exploded with a "boom," scattering barbed wire everywhere.

The horses were startled, broke free from their stalls, and began to run wildly around the camp.

The torches were thrown into the tents, startling the Mongols hiding inside. As soon as they ran out, they were killed on the spot by the scouts blocking the doorway.

The entire Mongol camp was thrown into complete chaos.

The screams of people, the neighing of horses, the booming of three-barreled guns, and the explosions of watermelon cannons mingled together.

The tent caught fire, flames shot into the sky, thick smoke billowed, and figures were running everywhere, indistinguishable as Ming soldiers or Mongols.

In less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, more than seventy night scouts had completely slain the Mongol camp.

As Zhao Sheng rode on his horse, he loaded gunpowder into the cannons while shouting at the top of his lungs, "Retreat after you've set off the fire! Don't linger!"

But once the night watchmen saw blood, they couldn't stop.

Some people chased after the fleeing Mongols, hacking at them as they felled one, only to chase after the next.

People started cutting off heads and hanging them on the horses' necks, one, two, three...

"Get out of here! Get the hell out of here!" Zhao Sheng's voice was almost hoarse from shouting, but only a few people listened to him and came closer.

He saw the night raiders turn their horses around and charge back, so he quickly shouted, "Come back! Don't chase them! Come back!"

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

Seter stood frozen in place in front of the camp gate.

He looked at the towering flames in the east and listened to the screams of his people, his mind went blank.

Put out the fire?

What fire are you trying to put out?

Their own camp was burned down!

He took off running eastward, but after only two steps, he was grabbed by a hand.

Turning around, he saw it was Orosechen's personal guard. "Your Highness! Your Majesty has given orders..."

"The Ming army attacked our camp!" Seter shook off his hand, his voice hoarse. "My people are still inside!"

The guards tried to stop him, but Setel pushed them away.

Seter ran towards the camp gate, shouting as he ran, "Bahrain tribe! Come back with me! Back to the main camp!"

But the Mongols who had just been sent to the western camp to put out the fire were now in complete disarray.

Some people heard the shouts of battle from the east, realized that their camp had been attacked, and turned to run back.

Some people were grabbed by the Later Jin soldiers and dragged directly towards the western camp;

Some people are still hesitating, unsure which way to go.

"My brother is still in the camp!"

"My horse! My horse is still inside!"

"Get out of the way! Let us go back!"

At the camp gate, Mongols and Later Jin soldiers crowded together.

The Later Jin soldiers blocked the entrance, and their leader, Bashiku, brandished his sword and shouted, "Eroseychen Ezhen has ordered everyone to go to the western camp to put out the fire! Who dares to disobey orders...?"

Before he could finish speaking, a Mongolian scimitar severed his head.

"They've rebelled!" Orosechen's personal guards, their eyes bloodshot, drew their swords and slashed at the Mongols beside them. "The Mongols have rebelled!"

Once the first person used a knife, the crowd erupted like a hornet's nest.

When the surrounding Mongols saw the Jurchens begin killing, more than a dozen knives were drawn at the same time, and they rushed towards the Later Jin soldiers.

The Later Jin soldiers were equally valiant, drawing their swords to meet the attack, and the two sides clashed fiercely in front of the camp gate.

Screams, shouts of battle, and the clash of weapons mingled together.

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

Just as Oroseschen put on his second layer of armor and his personal guards helped him fasten his belt, he heard the sound of cannons and shouts of battle coming from the east.

He paused, then looked eastward.

An alarm sounded from the southeast arrow tower: "Ming army night attack! One hundred cavalry!"

Orosechen's face darkened, and in just a few breaths, the firelight outside the stockade wall had already illuminated half the sky.

The Ming army attacked the camp.

Arson, frightening horses, killing people, and now they're attacking the camp.

A few thoughts flashed through Orosechen's mind: This place is fifty or sixty miles away from the Ming army camp, and a large Ming army cannot come here. The only ones who can appear here at this time are lightly armored cavalry like the Night Scouts.

Their intention was to cover the retreat of those spies and, incidentally, cause trouble, disrupting the firefighting efforts of the main camp.

"Eh-zhen!" A soldier ran over, his face full of anxiety. "East—"

"I heard you," Orosechen interrupted him, walking towards the horses as he spoke. "How many Bayara are left in the camp?"

"Forty people have been assembled."

"Split your forces." Orosechen grabbed his sword. "Twenty-five riders will go to the east to engage the Ming scouts. Tell them not to linger in battle, drive the scouts out, and then return to my side."

The guard hesitated for a moment: "What about the spies...?"

"I'll take fifteen riders to give chase." Oroseson walked out. "Those few can't have gone far; fifteen riders will be enough."

"Yes, sir!" The guard turned and ran.

Orosechen mounted his horse, reined in, and glanced towards the north gate.

Fifteen Bayara riders quickly gathered around him, all clad in armor and with their sabers drawn.

Oroseson waved his hand: "Let's go!"

The sound of horses' hooves rang out, and fifteen riders charged toward the north gate.

A few breaths later, another group of twenty-five Bayara riders left the north gate and headed east.

What Oroseson didn't know was that the moment he rushed out of the north gate, the south gate was already awash in blood.

He didn't know that the incense stick stuck in the corner of the gunpowder depot had already burned to the end.

All he knew was that those spies had to die.