My father is Chongzhen? Then I have no choice but to rebel.

Three hundred thousand! Adding the existing Ming army forces in Liaodong, the Ming army has at least four hundred thousand troops!

Four hundred thousand troops! This is almost the limit of the elite field forces that the Ming Dynasty can mobilize! Since the Battle of Sarhu, when has the Ming Dynasty ever waged such a large-scale and resolute military campaign?! ​​This is no ordinary border conflict; this is a thunderous strike aimed at the complete annihilation of the nation, with the full force of the country at its disposal!
"This...this is impossible..."

Prince Ajige muttered to himself, his face filled with disbelief.

"Where did the Ming Dynasty get so much food and supplies? Aren't they afraid of bankrupting themselves?"

"They might have been afraid before, but now... they're not afraid anymore."

Haug's voice was cold, carrying a cruel truth that he understood.

"In the Battle of Songjin, our Qing Dynasty lost nearly half of its elite troops, severely weakening its strength. Meanwhile, the Ming Dynasty reformed its officialdom, surveyed land, promoted new grains, and acquired revenue from Jiangnan... They are no longer the ignorant fools of the past! Now, they intend to use this enormous sum of money and mountains of lives to slowly wear us down!"

An atmosphere of despair, like the biting cold wind outside the hall, instantly filled every corner of the palace.

Just then, Prince Li, Daishan, who had been silent all along, slowly spoke, dropping an even heavier bombshell:
"What Prince Su said... only refers to the front line of Liaoxi. According to reports from my spies in Pi Island and Korea... things are not peaceful there either."

All eyes immediately turned to Dai Shan.

Daishan continued:

"Pi Island... that tiny place we once flattened and then abandoned has now become a huge fortress for the Ming navy! Zheng Zhilong is leading his massive naval fleet, carrying countless soldiers and cannons, to assemble on Pi Island! Judging by the scale of the formation, the force... is no less than 80,000!"

"what?!"

"Philippines also has 80,000?!"

"Add to that the 400,000 troops in western Liaoning... this... this is an encirclement from all sides!"

The main hall erupted in chaos! If the 400,000-strong army in Liaoxi was a hammer hurtling towards them, then the 80,000 Ming naval and land troops that appeared on Pi Island were like a poisoned dagger stabbed from behind! Blocked from the front, pursued from behind, attacked from both east and west, plus the potential threat from the Mongolian direction…

The Qing Dynasty has fallen into a truly desperate situation, surrounded on all sides!

Former allies and protectors have now become enemies and nooses! This is no longer a war, but a meticulously planned, all-encompassing strangulation!

"The Ming army... they're going to wipe us out completely, leaving no way out!"

"Firearms... Ming army's flintlock muskets..."

Prince Zheng, Jirhalang, spoke with a trembling voice, revealing the deepest fear in everyone's hearts.

"Back in Songjin... bullets rained down... our brave soldiers fell in droves, unable to get close at all... If all 400,000 troops were equipped with such weapons... how could we possibly fight this battle?"

Fear spread like a plague.

The invincible legend of the Eight Banners cavalry, which once swept across Liaodong and struck fear into the hearts of the Ming army, was shattered before the deadly net of fire constructed by flintlock muskets in the Battle of Songjin.

If the Ming army were to surround the enemy with hundreds of thousands of elite troops equipped with flintlock muskets from all sides... this would not be a war, but a massacre!

The hall fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the crackling of the burning coals and the heavy, desperate breathing of the crowd.

Just as the atmosphere of despair was about to engulf everyone, Dorgon, who had been silent all along, suddenly stood up from his seat! His movement was so sudden that he knocked over the chair behind him with a loud crash, drawing everyone's attention.

Dorgon's face was ashen, but his eyes were bloodshot, burning with a mixture of despair, madness, resentment, and a final, gambler's resolve!
He surveyed the crowd, his voice hoarse yet carrying an undeniable authority, and said sternly:

"What's the panic?! The war hasn't even started yet, and you're all scared out of your wits?! My Great Qing Dynasty isn't dead yet!"

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving violently, and each word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth:

"The Ming army has flintlock muskets. Does that mean our Great Qing... is just a lamb to be slaughtered?!"

These words were like a thunderclap, exploding above everyone's heads! Everyone stared at Dorgon in astonishment, their eyes filled with surprise and uncertainty.

Dorgon said no more, and suddenly waved his hand:

"Follow me! I will show you that my Great Qing is not without power!"

Having said that, he strode out of the hall. The princes and nobles looked at each other, full of doubt, but seeing Dorgon's resolute decision, they had no choice but to suppress their fear, get up, wrap their fur robes tightly around themselves, and follow him out of the hall.

Outside the palace, the wind and snow continued. Dorgon led his entourage through the wind and snow, passing through several palace gates, to a large training ground on the west side of the palace, which was usually used for the guards' drills and was heavily guarded.

Flags fluttered around the drill ground, and the snow had been cleared away, revealing the frozen, hard earth.

Upon seeing the Regent arrive with a group of princes and nobles, the commander of the guards, who had been waiting there, quickly stepped forward to pay his respects.

Dorgon remained expressionless and gave a few instructions to the commander of the guards. The commander accepted the order and turned to gesture to a group of personal guards.

Soon, a bodyguard, carrying a long wooden box about four feet long, made of fine sandalwood, carved with intricate cloud patterns and fitted with a brass clasp, quickly walked to Dorgon, knelt on one knee, and raised the box high.

All eyes were fixed on the wooden box.

Dorgon reached out and personally unlocked the brass latch, then slowly lifted the wooden box lid.

Inside the box, a bright yellow silk satin was laid out, and on the silk lay an object—made entirely of fine iron, with smooth lines, a wooden stock polished smooth and warm, and a gun body gleaming with a cold metallic luster. It had all the necessary parts, such as the trigger, hammer, and powder chamber, and its shape was eight or nine parts similar to the flintlock muskets used by the Ming army!
"A flintlock musket?!"

Someone gasped in shock!

"This...this was made by my Great Qing Dynasty?!"

Haug's pupils constricted sharply, and he lunged forward, staring intently at the flintlock pistol in its case, his face filled with disbelief! He had been on the front lines for a long time and had clashed with the Ming army's flintlock pistols many times; he was intimately familiar with this deadly weapon! Although the details of the pistol before him were slightly different, its overall structure was clearly that of a flintlock pistol!

Dorgon reached out and carefully took the flintlock pistol from the box; it felt heavy and cold in his hand.

He stroked the smooth barrel of the gun as if caressing a lover's skin, his eyes gleaming with a fervent yet complex light. He spoke slowly, his voice carrying a suppressed excitement and a hint of barely perceptible bitterness:

"Indeed, it is a flintlock musket! A flintlock musket produced by our Great Qing Dynasty!"

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the horrified faces:

"Since the disastrous defeat at Songjin, having witnessed the power of this weapon, I knew that archery and horsemanship were no match for such a weapon! If we cannot master its techniques, the Qing Dynasty will surely perish! Therefore, I secretly ordered the Ministry of Works and the artisan workshops in Shengjing and Fushun to secretly replicate it at all costs! I recruited artisans who had served the Ming army and later wandered outside the Great Wall. After several years, countless amounts of gold and silver were spent, dozens of artisans were lost, and we experienced hundreds and thousands of failures..."

He paused, then his voice suddenly rose, carrying an almost manic pride and resolve:
"Now, it has finally come to fruition! Although this gun may still be slightly inferior to the original Ming army gun in terms of range, accuracy, and durability, it is already of great use! At present, the three secret camps in Shengjing, Fushun, and Liaoyang are working day and night to accumulate more than 20,000 of these flintlock guns! The gunpowder and bullets are also being prepared at an accelerated pace!"

"Twenty thousand!"

Everyone gasped again! This number, though far from comparable to the hundreds of thousands of pieces of equipment the Ming army possessed, was still astonishing enough!
"Demonstrate!" Dorgon shouted sternly.

"Whoo!"

The commander of the guards responded loudly and turned to wave his command flag.

On the other side of the training ground, a formation of about a hundred infantrymen, dressed in blue cotton armor and well-equipped, marched in unison into the center of the training ground.

On their shoulders were flintlock muskets, similar in style to those in Dorgon's hands!

"Ready—Aim—Fire!"

At the officer's command, the hundred soldiers moved in perfect unison. Although they were a little rusty, they still managed to load, raise their guns, and aim.

"Bang! Bang bang bang—!!!"

A deafening gunshot suddenly rang out over the training ground! Smoke billowed, and the pungent smell of sulfur wafted in the wind! In the distance, the scarecrows and wooden stakes used as targets fell to the ground, sending wood chips and grass clippings flying everywhere!

Although the continuity of this volley was still inferior to that of the Ming army's elite troops, and the intervals were longer, the familiar gunshots, the spitting flames, and the real killing effect still left all the princes and nobles present dumbfounded and deeply shaken!

"This...this really is our gun!"

Ajige's beard trembled with excitement.

"Heaven bless the Qing Dynasty! Heaven bless the Qing Dynasty!"

Daishan wept uncontrollably.

Before the gunfire had subsided, another troop of cavalry galloped in from the other side of the training ground.

These cavalrymen were not armored, but had specially made, shorter flintlock muskets hanging from their saddles. They galloped back and forth on the training ground, and even on their galloping steeds, they were able to load, raise, and fire their muskets! Although their accuracy was terrible and most of the bullets went nowhere, the scene of "shooting on horseback" was still extremely impactful!

"Did you see that?!"

Dorgon brandished his flintlock musket like a gambler who had lost everything, revealing his last card and roaring.

"What the Ming army had, our Great Qing also has! The era of archery and horsemanship may be over, but firearms are not unique to the Han people! Our Eight Banners soldiers can also master such weapons!"

He surveyed the crowd, his eyes burning with a mad rage:
"Twenty thousand is just the beginning! I have ordered all ironworks and workshops in Shengjing, Fushun, and Liaoyang to be converted to arms production! Recruit all blacksmiths and carpenters who can be mobilized, even those who are just starting out! Demolish bronze Buddha statues in temples to cast cannons! Destroy iron pots in civilian houses to smelt iron! I don't care how many people die, I don't care how much money is spent! From today until next spring, four months! I want to see... one hundred thousand flintlock muskets again! One hundred thousand!"

"One hundred thousand!"

This number shocked everyone once again, but it also ignited a glimmer of hope.

If we had 120,000 flintlock muskets, combined with the bravery of the Eight Banners soldiers... perhaps we would truly have the strength to fight?
However, at that moment, a calm, almost cold voice rang out, like ice water, extinguishing the newly ignited flame of hope.

It was Haug who spoke.

"Fourteenth Uncle".

Haug stepped forward, his gaze sharp, not letting the demonstration before him cloud his judgment.

"Even if we have 120,000 muskets, and even if every one of my Eight Banners soldiers can fight with one, the Ming army's strength is several times greater than ours. 300,000 against 120,000, or even more! The disparity in troop strength is still enormous. Although firearms are powerful, ammunition consumption is huge. If they use their numerical advantage to surround and attack us from all sides, we may not be able to hold out for a long time."

Hauge's words were like a bucket of cold water, calming everyone's feverish minds down a bit.

Yes, we have the guns, but where are the people?

The Qing Dynasty currently has no more than 120,000 soldiers capable of fighting. How can they withstand the Ming army's hundreds of thousands of troops in a relentless attack?

Prince Zheng, Jirhalang, who had been silent all along, stroked his beard, a ruthless and resolute glint flashing in his eyes, and said in a deep voice:

"Prince Su's concerns are absolutely correct. However, at this point, there is no turning back. The only option is... to resort to extraordinary measures!"

He looked at Dorgon and said, word by word:

"Your Majesty, I suggest that you issue an imperial edict: all males aged twelve and above without disabilities within the territory of our Great Qing, including Manchus, Mongols, Han Eight Banners soldiers, and even bondservant aha, shall be conscripted into the army! Furthermore, a proclamation shall be sent to Korea, ordering them to conscript another 50,000 able-bodied men to help us defend against the enemy! In this way, we may be able to obtain... 150,000, or even 200,000 more men!"

"Twelve years old?!"

Someone gasped in surprise.

"They're still children! How can they fight?"

"child?"

Jirhalang gave a cold laugh, his smile filled with endless sorrow and cruelty.

"After the fall of a nation, not even the children will survive! Now, it is a time of national survival, not an ordinary war! Anyone who can wield a sword and spear, load gunpowder, and light a match is a soldier! It is better than being slaughtered by the Ming army after the city falls!"

The hall fell silent once again.

Conscripting twelve-year-old boys meant gambling the last remaining bloodline of the entire Qing Dynasty! This was no longer a war; it was... a total national annihilation! It was the final madness before the destruction of the nation and the extinction of the race! However, looking at Dorgon's resolute eyes, at Hauge's solemn face, and at the flintlock muskets still emitting smoke on the training ground, everyone understood—there was no other choice.

Dorgon remained silent for a long time, and finally, he slowly raised his head, his eyes already bloodshot, without the slightest hesitation.

His voice was hoarse, yet it carried an undeniable, beast-like resolve:
"I will immediately report to the Emperor and issue this decree in His Majesty's name throughout the land! All males aged twelve and above must enlist! I will also send people to Korea and tell them that they either send troops or... before my Great Qing Dynasty falls, I will first destroy their country!"

He whirled around, facing the flintlock rifle squad on the drill ground who had just finished firing and whose smoke had not yet cleared, and also facing all the core nobles of the Qing Dynasty behind him. With all his might, he roared hoarsely, his voice carrying far through the wind and snow:

"Gentlemen! Now, the fate of our Great Qing Dynasty hangs in the balance! The Ming army seeks to destroy our nation and exterminate our ancestral temples. This is a national vendetta, and a personal grudge! Past grievances are wiped clean! From this day forward, the entire nation shall unite in hatred against this enemy! All subjects of our Great Qing Dynasty, regardless of rank, shall be soldiers! I hereby swear that I will live and die with Shengjing! I will fight the Ming Dynasty... to the bitter end!"

"Fight to the death!"

"Fight to the death!"

Despair, fear, resentment, and madness ultimately transformed into a hysterical, suicidal fighting spirit.

The princes and nobles drew their swords, pointed them to the sky, and roared like wild beasts.

Amidst the wind and snow, the final, desperate cries of this dying regime echoed above the Shenyang Imperial Palace. (End of Chapter)