The wind rises at the end of the Ming Dynasty

"Charge! Charge!"

Jirhalang's eyes were bloodshot; he was completely blinded by rage.

He gripped the tiger-shaped spear tightly in his hand, its tip gleaming coldly, aimed directly at the defeated soldiers fleeing from the front lines, his eyes filled with nothing but madness.

"Don't run away!"

"Kill these cowards!"

Jirhalang's right hand, gripping the tiger spear tightly, trembled slightly. His chest heaved violently, and his heart felt as if it were being stabbed and bleeding.

With Jirhalang's fury, the guards' armored cavalry charged out once more, their iron hooves pounding the ground like muffled thunder.

Amidst the thunderous sound of hooves, they charged into the chaos of the enemy, the neighing of horses mingling with the muffled thuds of blades slicing through flesh and bone.

The armored cavalry, like wolves among sheep, charged into the rout of the soldiers. With each swift movement of their blades, figures fell, and blood mist filled the air.

Countless iron hooves trampled over them, turning the fallen bodies into mud.

The bloody crackdown temporarily halted the rout.

The demoralized soldiers were filled with fear; they dared not advance any further, and the front line had almost completely collapsed.

"Attack again!"

Jirhalang's hand holding the tiger spear trembled incessantly, and his chest heaved violently.

At this moment, his mind was in complete turmoil, filled with overwhelming fear and despair.

That panic and despair gnawed at his reason like a venomous snake.

He took in all the chaos that had broken out in the central army.

He heard the deafening roar of cannons, the screams of agony coming from the middle ranks, and the sudden cheers that erupted from the entire Jingnan Army.

He dared not think about what had happened.

"Your Majesty..."

Boerhui's arm trembled as he pointed westward. His voice was distorted with extreme fear, having long lost its usual composure and calmness.

He stared in fear at the battlefield to the west, wanting to tell Jirhalang what was happening there.

But when Jirhalang's bloodshot eyes met his, an even greater fear gripped his throat, silencing all his words.

but.

Everything no longer needs to be described by Bo Hui.

A deafening barrage of gunfire suddenly erupted from behind, followed by a deafening tidal wave of battle cries that swept in from the rear.

A large amount of smoke was rising from the west, and the orderly volleys of gunfire from the Jingnan Army could be clearly heard coming from what should have been their safe rear area!

Jirhalang's eyes were bloodshot.

He saw in the distance that the main force of the Plain Red Banner cavalry, which was supposed to protect the flanks and rear, was collapsing and fleeing in panic.

They saw their own cavalry fleeing in panic all over the mountains and plains.

The Jingnan Army's armored cavalry swept across the plains like water overflowing the Milky Way.

The Jingnan Army infantry stationed in Balapu had advanced to the rear of their lines and engaged in battle with the reserves he had left behind.

Ao Bai.

They were unable to stop the enemy from the west.

This cold, hard truth struck Jirhalang like a heavy hammer blow to his heart.

"No...impossible..."

Jirhalang muttered to himself, the tiger spear trembling in his hand.

He saw everything.

But they did not see Ao Bai's banner.

Jirgalang gripped the reins tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

His lips trembled slightly as he tried to give orders, but found that he couldn't even utter the simplest sound.

The sudden change in the rear also attracted the attention of the troops of the Bordered Yellow and Bordered Red Banners.

They also heard the exceptionally clear shouts of battle and the simultaneous firing of guns and cannons rolling in from behind them.

Fear spread like a plague throughout the various military formations.

Amidst the remaining ranks of the Bordered Yellow and Bordered Red Banners, murmurs of commotion rose and fell like waves.

At first, there were only a few scattered, suppressed gasps, but they quickly spread and eventually merged into an uncontrollable cacophony of desperate clamor and wailing.

They were unable to break through the enemy's defenses, which were as solid as a rock. Each charge only left behind more corpses of their comrades and wailing warhorses on the battlefield.

The fatigue from the long battle and the ever-accumulating casualties had long since become heavy shackles, dragging down the morale of everyone.

At that moment, the sudden and deadly threat from behind became the last straw that broke the camel's back.

The discipline of the formation began to crumble under the erosion of an invisible fear.

The officer's hoarse shouts lost their usual effectiveness, and the cold, menacing blades in the hands of the supervising officers were rendered useless at this moment.

because.

Even they themselves had a hint of undisguised wavering in their eyes.

The ranks of the Bordered Yellow Banner and the Bordered Red Banner, like a dam hollowed out by ants, finally began to collapse under the continuous erosion of fear.

A commotion arose between the two remaining military formations, and as the noise grew louder, so too did the fear deepen.

The Jingnan Army's main formation, left flank.

As Zhou Yumao rode his warhorse, he took in everything that was happening to the west.

His expression was resolute as he suddenly raised the spear in his hand.

"kill!!!"

On the left flank of the Jingnan Army, eight thousand Jingnan musketeers roared in unison, gripping their muskets tightly, their cold, menacing bayonets forming a continuous line along the front.

Amidst the rapid drumbeats, eight thousand Jingnan Army musketeers ceased firing, raised their bayonets, and surged forward like a tidal wave.

Countless pairs of military boots pounded the blood-stained earth, producing a heavy and rhythmic roar.

The gleaming bayonet reflected a chilling light under the cold midday sun.

The swan-like calls, growing ever louder, echoed throughout the battlefield.

The two battalions of Jingnan Army infantry on the left flank of the Huguang Army quickly crossed the hundred-pace line, their bayonets raised, and surged into the Qing army's already collapsed lines like a flood bursting its banks.

More Qing troops collapsed.

Panic, like a flood bursting its banks, swept away the last shred of discipline.

Defeat...

Like a mountain collapsing...

Under the pincer attack of the Jingnan Army on the left wing and the Jingnan Army at Balapu, the Qing army on the left wing, whose morale was already extremely low, suddenly collapsed.

Those once arrogant and domineering Eight Banner soldiers, brandishing their weapons, now fled in panic like stray dogs.

The cavalry covering each formation launched a full-scale attack amidst the low blast of bugles.

The sound of horses' hooves rolled across the land like thunder, and sabers drew cold arcs in the air.

This was no longer a battle, but a massacre.

A one-sided massacre.

With morale collapsed and organization in disarray, the Qing army was unable to mount any effective resistance and could only be continuously compressed, divided, and annihilated in despair.

With a flash of the blade, a head rolled to the ground.

Where iron hooves trod, flesh and bones turn to mud.

Jirhalang stared blankly at everything that was happening before his eyes, as if his soul had been ripped out.

The madness and violence that had been burning in his eyes just moments before had completely vanished, leaving only endless emptiness and deathly silence.

Jirhalang looked desperate; he couldn't believe what was happening before his eyes, nor could he.

They were defeated... The remaining officers and soldiers huddled around Jirhalang in a panic, like drowning people trying to grab onto the last piece of driftwood.

All sorts of sounds came into Jirhalang's ears.

"Your Highness, hurry and leave, or it will be too late!"

"Protect the prince, and we'll fight our way out!"

"Your Majesty...we still don't know how things are going on His Majesty's side..."

Some wanted to protect him and help him escape this certain death, while others were driven by despair to fight to the death and die for their country, and still others were asking about what had happened in the middle of the battle.

Chaotic shouts and arguments surrounded Jirhalang, but none of them could penetrate his already blank mind.

Jirgalang remained frozen on his horse, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the crumbling battle lines ahead...

The collapse of the left-wing Qing army also triggered a larger chain reaction, and the Qing army's Plain Yellow Banner soldiers, who were trapped in the pocket, also suffered greater pressure.

More Jingnan Army soldiers joined the central battlefield from all directions, like sharks that had smelled blood in the ocean.

The sounds of gunfire grew louder and louder, and the shouts of battle rose in waves.

With Huang Taiji's fall and the halt of the advance of the brocade dragon banner, the Qing army in the central government was once again thrown into panic, completely losing its formation and collapsing under the three-sided attack of the Jingnan Army.

The deep, resonant sound of war drums echoed one after another.

Driven by the drumbeats, the Jingnan Army's infantry formation began to advance.

The forest of bayonets gleamed coldly in the setting sun, forming a wall of death that steadily pressed down on the routed Qing army.

Military boots trampled mercilessly over the corpses and tattered banners scattered on the ground, splashing up mud mixed with blood.

The Jingnan Army's light cavalry, providing cover, swept across the battlefield like a whirlwind.

These light cavalrymen nimbly weaved through the fleeing troops, their sabers flashing, further dividing and dismantling the already fragmented Qing army formation.

The Qing army's lines collapsed rapidly under the combined onslaught of the Jingnan Army's infantry and cavalry, like a dam breached by a flood.

The Qing army on the left wing and in the center was completely thrown into chaos. The Bordered Yellow and Bordered Red Banners on the left wing had collapsed, and the fleeing soldiers of the two banners were running wildly northward, which also caused the Plain Blue Banner troops, who were attacking the left wing of the Jingnan Army's main formation, to be overwhelmed.

The collapse of the battlefield triggered a chain reaction, and the shadow of defeat loomed over everyone.

Akdun's face was ashen; his helmet was nowhere to be seen, and his thin braids were disheveled and stuck to his sweat-dampened head. He gripped the reins tightly, controlling his warhorse as it galloped wildly northward.

"Go away!"

Akdun roared hoarsely, desperately swinging his slashing sword at the fleeing soldiers blocking his way.

At that moment, escaping was more important than anything else; he couldn't care less about camaraderie.

The horse's hooves trampled over the wounded soldiers lying on the ground, their screams left behind.

He no longer had time to think about what would happen in the future, or about the guilt of defeat.

Akdun gripped the dagger tightly in his hand, blood dripping continuously down the blade.

His mind went blank, with only the most primal survival instinct driving his body. He kept whipping his warhorse, galloping desperately toward what he thought was a safe direction.

After fleeing for an unknown amount of time, until the shouts of battle and the sounds of gunfire behind him gradually faded into the distance and became indistinct, Akdun dared to slow his horse down slightly.

Akdun gripped the sticky dagger tightly in his hand, warm blood dripping down the blade.

He was breathing heavily, his lungs felt like they were being torn apart, and his mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood.

Around him were dozens of other fleeing soldiers who had also seized warhorses.

Akdun subconsciously turned his head to look south.

Behind them were many defeated soldiers.

They fled aimlessly across the vast plains.

And further away, in the place where they escaped.

The armored cavalry of the Jingnan Army, sweeping in from the west, had already entered the formation and were carrying out the final sweep and cleanup.

That place has become a veritable slaughterhouse.

They were among the few survivors who escaped from the slaughterhouse.

"Hahahahahaha..."

A surge of overwhelming joy at surviving a disaster suddenly welled up inside Akdun, and he couldn't help but burst into hysterical laughter.

His laughter was laced with barely suppressed sobs; blood and tears mingled and crisscrossed his face, making him appear both grotesque and utterly pathetic.

Akdun felt his heart pounding violently in his chest and felt the stinging pain in his lungs as he breathed.

All of this proves that he is still alive.

He finally escaped...

at last……

but.

Why didn't the armored cavalry of the Jingnan Army chase after them?

A question arose in Aktun's mind.

"Whoosh!"

The sound of an arrow piercing the air suddenly rang out.

Akdun felt a sharp pain in his chest, and he turned around blankly to look ahead.

A large number of people and horses appeared on the plain ahead at some unknown time.

It was densely packed with the heads of horses, moving about.

At first glance, all that could be seen were fur-clad armor and hostile faces.

Their attire and appearance clearly indicated their identities.

They were clearly the Mongol cavalrymen from the outer vassal states who had fled earlier.

but……

why?
Why didn't they escape to the other side of the Fu River and get away from this hell, but instead stayed here?

But why didn't they escape to the other side of the Fu River, but instead stayed here?

Akdun was filled with immense doubt and a sense of absurdity, and his mind was somewhat sluggish.

Why did he hear the sound of the bowstring vibrating?

And why is there now an arrow stuck in his chest?

He lowered his eyes, staring at the arrow stuck in his chest, full of confusion.

why?
No one told Acton the answer to that question.

More arrows struck Akdun.

Akdun could no longer support his body, and he fell heavily from his horse onto the cold, muddy grass, splashing up a cloud of mud mixed with blood.

Broken, painful gasps escaped uncontrollably from deep within Akdun's throat.

He doesn't want to die...

He really didn't want to die...

Tears streamed uncontrollably from Aktun's eyes.

But fate.

It will never change because of an individual's will.

Aktun will never know the answer to this question in his lifetime.

"Kill them."

A Mongolian general with a bushy beard and a dark face slowly lowered his horsebow.

His gaze was icy, looking down at the fleeing Qing soldiers as if they were lambs to the slaughter, and he coldly gave his orders.

The next instant, the deep sound of the conch shell echoed throughout the south bank of the Fu River.

Immediately, on the south bank of the Fu River, tens of thousands of Mongol cavalry swept towards the fleeing Qing troops who were escaping in panic from the south. (End of Chapter)