Chief Armaments Master of the Ming Dynasty

In December, the north wind was like a knife.

Beijing, the Forbidden City, the platform (Yuntai Gate).

This was where the emperor routinely summoned his ministers and handled state affairs. Unlike the Hall of Supreme Harmony, it was not as imposing and grand, but it was more important.

Emperor Chongzhen sat on his throne, his face thin, his eyes sunken, and dark circles under his eyes barely concealed.

He is only nineteen years old this year and has been on the throne for only two years, but he already looks like a middle-aged man who is overwhelmed by the affairs of state.

At this moment, he was staring at Yuan Chonghuan kneeling at the foot of the steps, his gaze complex.

Yuan Chonghuan also lost weight.

The days of bloody battles and anxiety made his already thin face even more angular, with his cheekbones protruding high.

He knelt on the ground, wearing the imperial robe bestowed upon him, his back ramrod straight, but his slightly trembling fingers betrayed his inner tension.

"Minister Yuan," Emperor Chongzhen spoke, his voice low and unreadable, "In the Battle of Guangqumen, you fought the Jurchens all day and made a great contribution in repelling them. I am very pleased."

"It is my duty," Yuan Chonghuan kowtowed.

Emperor Chongzhen nodded, then suddenly changed the subject: "But there is one thing I do not understand. The Jurchens broke through Xifengkou and invaded the capital region. As the Commander-in-Chief of Ji-Liao, in charge of military affairs in Ji, Liao, Deng, Lai, and Tianjin, why were you unable to defend against the enemy outside the pass?"

The atmosphere on the platform froze instantly upon hearing this.

Several cabinet ministers exchanged glances discreetly, then lowered their eyelids, keeping their eyes downcast.

A light sheen of cold sweat trickled down Yuan Chonghuan's back.

This was an expected question, and an accountability he could not avoid.

"Your Majesty," he took a deep breath, "the defense of Jizhou is not my sole responsibility. My jurisdiction is mainly in Liaodong. The border walls of Jizhou have been in disrepair for many years, and the troops are few and far between. I have repeatedly submitted memorials requesting reinforcements to Jizhou, but..."

He didn't continue.

But everyone understood what he meant—I submitted a memorial, but the court didn't approve it. I have no money, no connections, what can I do?

Emperor Chongzhen remained silent.

He knew Yuan Chonghuan was telling the truth. The defenses of Jizhou had been in disarray for quite some time. But he was the emperor, and he needed an explanation. The Jurchen army was at the gates, the capital region was being ravaged, and the entire court and the people of the land were watching.

He needs an explanation.

"You were in Liaodong, confronting the Jurchens for many years," Chongzhen spoke again, his voice even lower. "Was there a pact with the Jurchens before you killed Mao Wenlong?"

Yuan Chonghuan was startled and abruptly raised his head.

Kill Mao Wenlong.

This is a knife hanging over his head.

Mao Wenlong, the general of Dongjiang Town, was stationed on Pi Island. He frequently harassed the rear of the Jin army and was a major concern for Huang Taiji.

After Yuan Chonghuan took command of the Ji-Liao region, he executed Mao Wenlong on Shuangdao Island with the imperial sword on twelve major charges, including "embezzlement of military funds, collusion with the enemy, and arrogance."

That happened in June of this year.

When the news reached Beijing, Emperor Chongzhen issued an edict affirming Yuan Chonghuan's actions, but he may not have been without resentment.

No matter how domineering Mao Wenlong was, he was still a garrison commander who had held back the Jin army for many years.

You killed him without asking for permission beforehand, and only reported it afterward.

Now that the Jin army has broken through the pass, some people are privately discussing that it is precisely because Mao Wenlong is dead that the Jin army has no worries about its rear, which is why it dares to launch a full-scale southward invasion.

"Your Majesty!" Yuan Chonghuan kowtowed heavily, veins bulging on his forehead. "I killed Mao Wenlong to uphold military discipline! Mao Wenlong embezzled military funds, colluded with the Jurchens, and was arrogant and unruly. Only his execution could uphold military law! I had absolutely no personal grudge against him!"

"Then how did the Jurchens manage to break through the pass and enter?" Chongzhen's voice suddenly rose, carrying the sharpness unique to a young emperor. "When Mao Wenlong was alive, how dare the Jurchens penetrate deep into the capital region? He died, and then the Jurchens came. Is this a coincidence?"

"Your Majesty..." Yuan Chonghuan's lips trembled, his forehead pressed against the cold floor tiles, "Your Majesty dares not speak of coincidence. But I swear to Heaven, I killed Mao Wenlong without any selfish motives! If there is even a single falsehood, may Heaven and Earth punish me!"

The platform was deathly silent.

Several cabinet ministers held their breath. They knew that at this moment, Yuan Chonghuan's life or death rested on the emperor's decision.

Emperor Chongzhen stared at Yuan Chonghuan kneeling on the ground for a very long time.

Then, he suddenly smiled. The smile was so faint that it was almost imperceptible.

"You needn't do that. I was just asking." He paused. "You've worked hard. Go back to your camp and rest. The Jurchens haven't retreated, and the war isn't over. You still need to share my burdens."

"Your subject...accepts the decree."

Yuan Chonghuan kowtowed, slowly rose, and left the platform.

His back was soaked with cold sweat.

Stepping off the platform, the winter sun stung his eyes, making him squint.

He stood on the steps, gazing at the distant, row-up palaces and the withered branches shivering in the cold wind, and suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

He knew that the emperor did not believe him.

Perhaps, I never truly believed it.

---

Yuan Chonghuan's premonition soon came true.

December seventeenth.

Huang Taiji launched another attack.

This time, his target was not Guangqumen, but Yongdingmen.

The person in charge of defending Yongding Gate was Man Gui.

Man Gui, the General of Datong, was a Mongol. In the Battle of Guangqumen, he led the Xuanda cavalry in a bloody battle against the Jin army for a whole day. He was wounded several times, but he still fought to the death and refused to retreat. His bravery and fierceness were so great that even the Jin army took notice of him.

However, he was not one of Yuan Chonghuan's close associates.

He was a soldier from Xuanda Town.

Between him and Yuan Chonghuan lay a deep-seated divide between the two major military garrisons of Xuanda and Jiliao.

Outside Yongding Gate.

Huang Taiji had clearly found out that the general guarding Yongding Gate was Man Gui, not one of Yuan Chonghuan's trusted men. He wanted to take advantage of this "easy target".

Man Gui stood on the watchtower of the camp, looking northwest, his face ashen.

On the horizon, a dark mass of cavalry, like a flood bursting its banks, was slowly pressing in.

His injury hasn't healed yet.

In the battle of Guangqumen, he was hit by two arrows and had four knife wounds. To this day, he cannot lift his left arm.

But he did not back down. He was Man Gui. In his entire life, he had never known what it meant to back down.

"All troops, heed my command!" He drew his sword, his voice booming like thunder, "The city stands, we stand; the city falls, we fall!"

"The city stands, we stand! The city falls, we fall!" the soldiers shouted in unison, their voices shaking the heavens.

The battle reached a fever pitch from the very beginning.

The Later Jin army launched a full-scale attack.

There were two or three thousand cavalry on each of the left and right flanks, and the dust kicked up by their horses' hooves blotted out the sky.

In the center were rows of elite infantry, clad in heavy armor and wielding long-handled broadswords, tiger spears, and shields.

The shield cart rumbled across the frozen ground, and the archers on it began to draw their bows and nock their arrows.

Man Gui silently estimated—at least 20,000 people.

In his Xuanda camp, less than half of the soldiers were truly capable fighters.

"Give the order." He descended from the watchtower, his voice as calm as if he were asking what to eat for dinner. "All troops, form ranks and prepare to meet the enemy."

The bugle call sounded mournfully.

The soldiers of Xuanda Camp crawled out of their tents, hurriedly putting on their armor and taking out their weapons.

Some people still had half a piece of dry food in their mouths. Some were cursing and swearing. Most people remained silent.

Man Gui rode past the ranks. His battle robe was still wounded from an old injury, and his left arm was in a splint, so he could only control the reins with his right hand.

But the sword was already drawn, its cold light reflecting off his face, roughened by wind and sand.

"Brothers," his voice wasn't loud, but it pierced through the north wind, "the Tartars are coming. More than twenty thousand of them, more than us."

A commotion broke out in the queue.

"But when I was defending Datong, the Tartars knocked on the gates every year. At most, the number was about the same. I held on."

His gaze swept over the faces red from the cold: "Today is no different. The soldiers of Xuanda will not bring shame to the Ming Dynasty."

No one cheered.

But the hands holding the knives became a little steadier.

The battle began with a probing attack from the right flank of the Jin army.

Two or three thousand cavalrymen roared and charged toward the left flank of the Xuanda camp, their hooves shattering the frozen earth.

Xuan Da's archers fired arrows, the front-line cavalry raised their shields to block, and the rear-line archers returned fire.

Arrows rained down in the air, and people fell from their horses one after another, their screams drowned out by the sound of hooves.

Man Gui stood in the center of the army, motionless.

The Xuanda cavalry on the left wing went to meet them.

The two cavalry forces clashed violently on the open field, swords and spears clashing, men shouting and horses neighing.

The Jin cavalry had a strong impact, but the Xuanda cavalry were more resilient.

These men, who have been stationed at the border for many years, are all too familiar with this kind of fighting.

They don't aim to defeat the enemy in one blow, but rather to relentlessly pursue their opponents, grinding them down piece by piece, trading lives one by one.

Half an hour later, the Jin army's right wing retreated.

The left wing of Xuanda University also suffered a loss of nearly 30%.

But Man Gui showed no sign of relaxation. He knew this was just an appetizer.

The real killer move is yet to come.

The sky gradually darkened.

Winter days are short, and before dusk, the sky was already tinged with a bluish-gray hue.

The north wind blew harder and harder, whipping up sand and withered grass that stung our faces.

Man Gui suddenly felt something was wrong.

The wind direction has changed.

Previously, the wind was from the southeast, and the Jin army was facing the wind head-on, which affected the range of their arrows.

But now, the wind has suddenly shifted to the north, blowing in from the flanks, carrying increasingly larger amounts of sand and dust, like a yellow-black wall that is slowly moving forward.

This is a sandstorm.

Xuan Dajun's ranks began to stir.

The sandstorm was getting stronger and stronger, getting into our eyes, noses, and mouths.

The soldiers squinted, unable to see clearly what was ahead.

The bowstring was worn smooth by the sand, and the arrow, once shot out, was blown erratically by the wind.

A warning bell rang in Man Gui's heart.

He knew this kind of weather all too well. Outside Xuanda, this kind of sandstorm was called a "yellow wind." Once it started, the sky darkened, and visibility was extremely low. For the defending side, this was fatal.

Because you can't see where the enemy is coming from.

I can't hear it either.

The sandstorm buried everything. The sounds of horses' hooves, shouts, and clashing weapons were all swallowed up by the wind.

"All troops—on high alert!" Man Gui roared hoarsely.

The sound was torn apart by the gale as soon as it was uttered.

Then he saw it.

Deep within the sandstorm, countless dark figures are surging forth.

It's not a test.

It's the final assault.

Huang Taiji had staked everything on this moment.

This is exactly what he's been waiting for.

Under the cover of the sandstorm, the main force of the Jin army silently advanced to a position less than a mile away from Xuan Da's army.

The moment the gale-force winds, carrying sand and dust, swept towards the Ming army's ranks, all the Jin soldiers launched a simultaneous charge.

The elite cavalry of the two white flags cut in from the right flank, bypassing the front of the Xuanda army and directly attacking its rear.

The infantry of the Bordered Blue Banner and the Plain Blue Banner pressed forward from the front, pushing shield carts and closing in step by step.

On the left flank, Mongol cavalry swept in and cut off the Xuanda army's retreat route to Yongding Gate.

Surrounded on three sides.

Xuan Dajun's formation was torn apart the moment they made contact.

It wasn't that the soldiers weren't fighting hard. It was that there simply wasn't enough time to react.

When the Jin army emerged from the sandstorm, the two sides were so close that they could see each other's eyes.

There was no time to fire arrows, no time to form ranks, and not even time to be afraid.

Only the most primitive and bloody mutual slaughter.

Man Gui's eyes reddened.

He led his personal guard to charge towards the most critical left flank.

There, the cavalry of the two white flags had already charged into the Xuanda army's infantry formation, trampling and killing wantonly.

"Follow me!"

Man Gui took the lead, wielding his sword in his right hand and cleaving down a charging Jin cavalryman. Blood splattered all over his face.

His personal guards followed closely behind, like a wedge driven firmly into the ranks of the charging Jin army.

Man Gui went on a killing spree.

Since he couldn't raise his left arm, he used his right.

His warhorse was cut down, so he dismounted and fought on foot.

His personal guards fell one after another, but he was completely unaware.

His battle robe was already soaked in blood, making it impossible to tell whether it belonged to the enemy or himself.

All he knows is how to chop.

Cut one down, then cut down the next.

But the Jin army was too large.

Xuan Dajun's formation is being crushed bit by bit.

The left wing collapsed first, followed by the right. The central infantry was still struggling to hold on, but their formation had been compressed into an irregular circle, surrounded by Jin troops on all sides.

Hei Yunlong was surrounded on the right flank, stabbed several times, and captured alive by the Jin army.

Sun Zushou was supervising the battle from the central command when he was struck in the throat by a stray arrow and died on the spot.

Man Gui had less than a hundred people left by her side.

They were surrounded on a small hillside, with countless torches of the Jin army all around them.

The sandstorm gradually subsided.

Man Gui saw the scene around him clearly—the mountains and fields were covered with fallen corpses. Soldiers from Xuanda, his soldiers.

A burly Jin general rode his horse slowly forward.

"Mangui!" the man shouted in Chinese. "I am Abatai, the Great King of Jin! Why should a Mongol risk his life for a Han Chinese? If you surrender to me, I guarantee you will be made a king!"

Man Gui leaned on his knife, panting heavily.

Blood streamed down his forehead, obscuring his left eye.

He wiped his face with his right hand, raised his head, and looked at Abatai on horseback.

Then he burst into laughter.

The laughter was hoarse and unrestrained, echoing across the desolate wilderness strewn with corpses.

"Abatai! It's true I'm a Mongol! But all my life, I've eaten the grain of the Ming Dynasty and worn the armor of the Ming Dynasty! You want me to surrender? Dream on!"

Abatai was furious and pointed his knife forward.

The Jin army swarmed forward.

Man Gui glanced at the last of his personal guards. Their young faces were obscured by blood and sand, but there was no fear in their eyes.

There was only a calm acceptance of death.

"Young men of Xuanda." Man Gui raised his knife, his voice hoarse but as steady as a rock.

"Follow me, let's go one more time."

Man Gui died in the chaos of battle.

No one saw how he died.

The soldiers who recovered the remains after the battle said that his body was next to the body of his warhorse, and he was still holding a knife in his hand.

The blade was chipped, and there were dozens of wounds of varying sizes on his body.

The most fatal blow came from a diagonal slash down his left shoulder, almost splitting him in two.

Before he died, he was facing the direction of Yongding Gate.

That city he once garrisoned, that city he could never return to.

The Xuanda army outside Yongding Gate was completely wiped out.

Of the more than 10,000 men, more than half were killed in battle, and the rest scattered. Man Gui and Sun Zushou were killed in battle, and Hei Yunlong was captured.

The elite troops of Xuanda Town vanished overnight.

When the news reached Guangqumen, Yuan Chonghuan remained silent for a long time.

He and Man Gui were not on good terms. One was the Governor-General of Jiliao, and the other was the Commander-in-Chief of Xuanda. Their military posts were different, their interests were different, and there were many conflicts between them.

The battle at Guangqumen, where the two sides miscoordinated, deepened the animosity between them to the core.

But upon hearing the news of Man Gui's death, he felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart.

Another general died under the sword of the Jurchens.

Zhao Shuaijiao. Man Gui. Who's next?

He gazed at the gray sky outside the tent and suddenly felt a bone-chilling exhaustion.

It's not physical exhaustion. It's mental exhaustion.

He was in charge of the Ji-Liao campaign and vowed to pacify Liaodong within five years.

He killed Mao Wenlong, rectified military discipline, and wanted to turn Liaodong into an impenetrable monolith.

He fought valiantly and blocked Huang Taiji outside Guangqumen.

But what he got in return was suspicion, doubt, and the emperor's question during the platform's interrogation: "Did you have any agreement with the Jurchens to kill Mao Wenlong?"

He suddenly remembered his mentor, Sun Chengzong.

That old commander-in-chief devoted himself to Liaodong, building cities and training troops, and at one point recovered hundreds of miles of lost territory. And then what? He was impeached, dismissed from office, and sent back to his hometown.

It seems that none of the military commanders of the Ming Dynasty could escape this fate.

What about him?

Can he escape?