Huangming

Chapter 319 A Hero in His Twilight Years, His Successor in Peril
Liaodong.

Hetu Ala.

The rammed earth city walls that once served as the capital of the Jin Dynasty have long since collapsed in the war, and charred wooden beams pierce out from the ruins like the exposed bones of a giant beast.

At this moment, a group of Han Chinese dressed in tattered short brown clothes were hunched over, clearing away the ruins from the pile of rubble.

Although Nurhaci had no intention of rebuilding the capital, he wanted to plunder all the remaining timber and ironware and transport them back to his new residence.

Most of these Han Chinese were Liaodong people who had been captured by the Jin dynasty in earlier years, or Ming soldiers who surrendered after being defeated in battle.

After Li Yangeng, a Han Chinese general who had surrendered, secretly colluded with the Ming army, leading to the fall of Hetu Ala, Nurhaci became increasingly suspicious of the Han Chinese. He not only stripped them of their right to serve in the army but also enslaved them all, assigning them the hardest and most arduous tasks: transporting grain, digging trenches, and cleaning up the battlefield...

Any slackening will result in punishment.

The ruins reeked of burnt and putrid odors. A young Han slave tripped over a pile of broken bricks, causing his grain sack to fall off his back, which immediately drew a stern rebuke from the overseer.

The overseer, a Jurchen soldier with a tuft of hair around his neck, raised his whip without a word and lashed it hard across the Han slave's back, his words full of contempt: "Useless Han dogs! If you weren't still able to work, I would have killed you all long ago!"

What's even more chilling is that after the city fell, the Jin nobles became increasingly brazen in their abuse of Han Chinese women.

During the day, one could often see Han women with disheveled hair being dragged through the streets by Jurchen soldiers. Their cries, mixed with the savage laughter of the victors, became the most jarring background noise in this ruin.

As for the Han people's property, it was regarded as ownerless, and any decent clothing or utensils would be plundered at will.

The situation of the Han people in Hetu Ala is getting worse day by day, as if they have fallen into a bottomless abyss.

However, not all Han Chinese are in such dire straits.

An exception was a house in the east of the city that had not yet been completely burned down.

The Tong family members were sitting together, with liquor and cooked meat on the table, a world apart from the miserable scene outside.

"If it weren't for Guoyao's quick thinking, my Tong family would probably not have escaped this calamity either."

Tong Yangxing held his wine bowl and looked at his grandson Tong Guoyao sitting at the lower end of the table, his eyes filled with satisfaction.

On the day Hetu Ala fell, it was Tong Guoyao who rescued the Grand Consort Abahai.

After this incident, Abahai looked at this young Han man with new respect and often mentioned his loyalty and bravery to Nurhaci.

Although Nurhaci was suspicious of the Han people, he favored Abahai and thus went along with it, rewarding Tong Guoyao handsomely.

More importantly, although Tong Yangxing's original official position remained unchanged, he was given the additional task of "overseeing the Han people".

Now, he has the final say on the allocation and distribution of all Han Chinese bondservants in Hetu Ala.

This job may seem like a grueling task, but in reality, it wields real power: which Han Chinese can suffer less, and which Han Chinese can be assigned a lighter job, all depends on his word.

"Grandpa is joking."

Tong Guoyao put down her wine bowl, her face displaying a composure beyond her years.
"It is my duty to protect the Queen Dowager. However... the Han people are in a difficult situation now. Although we are treated well, we are still walking on thin ice."

He's telling the truth.

Even with Abahai's support, the Tong family remained "outcasts" in the eyes of the Jurchen elites, and their open and covert exclusion never ceased.

But in any case, compared to their compatriots struggling in the ruins, they can be considered a "privileged class".

Just then, a voice came from outside the door: "Lord Tong, the Grand Consort has sent someone."

Tong Yangxing quickly rose to greet her. It was Abahai's personal maid who came and handed her a brocade box: "The Grand Consort says that in gratitude for Young Master Tong's life-saving grace that day, she has specially bestowed ten Eastern pearls upon him. She also asks that Lord Tong properly educate his descendants so that they may serve the Great Khan in the future."

Holding the heavy brocade box, Tong Yangxing knew in his heart that this was not only a reward, but also a reminder.

The honor and disgrace of the Tong family depended entirely on the rise and fall of the Jin Dynasty.

He bowed and replied, "Please inform the Great Queen, the descendants of the Tong family will never forget the Great Khan and the Great Queen's favor, and will spare no effort to serve them."

After the maid left, Tong Guoyao looked out the window at the Han compatriots working in the ruins, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes.

The Tong family's "glory" was built on the suffering of their compatriots, but on this Jurchen territory, they had no other choice.

I just hope the Ming army comes soon!

Liu Xingzuo was granted the title of Earl, and it was heard that Li Yangeng would also be richly rewarded.

After seeing the opportunity to live an upright life.

Who would want to be a slave?

Tong Guoyao also wanted to be an upright person.

...

On the other side, Nurhaci's royal tent was pitched in the mountains north of Hetu Ala. The canvas tents were still covered with wet mud, revealing the disheveled state of a hasty migration.

Violent coughing could be heard from inside the tent from time to time, like a broken bellows being pulled, each cough hoarse and heart-wrenching.

This warlord, who had dominated Liaodong for decades, was only in his early sixties this year. He should have been in his prime, but the news of the fall of Hetu Ala and the deaths of several of his descendants caused him to be overcome with anger and grief. He vomited blood on the spot, and his health collapsed from then on.

The tent was filled with a strong smell of herbs, a bitter aroma mixed with the smoky smell of charcoal fire, making it hard to breathe.

Grand Consort Abahai was kneeling beside the low couch, carefully scooping up the dark brown medicine from the bowl with a silver spoon, blowing on it before offering it to Nurhaci's lips.

Behind her, nine-year-old Dorgon held a clean handkerchief, his big eyes filled with worry. His small body stood straight, showing a composure beyond his years.

After Nurhaci finished drinking a bowl of medicine, a trace of color finally returned to his pale face, and his coughing gradually subsided.

He waved his hand, signaling Abahai to step aside, but his gaze fell on Dorgon. His originally sharp eyes softened considerably, and even a hint of a smile appeared on his face.

This youngest son was a treasure he received in his later years. Although only nine years old, he had already shown extraordinary intelligence.

When riding and shooting, his eyes are as focused as an eagle's; when listening to government affairs, he remains silent, but always manages to say a few insightful words at crucial moments.

Nurhaci often looked at him and, in a daze, saw his younger self: that untamed wildness, that keen sense of power, were exactly the same.

Dorgon.

He spoke in a hoarse voice, weary yet filled with affection.
"How much of the 'Art of War' I taught you yesterday do you still remember?"

Dorgon stepped forward and said loudly, "Father, I remember that 'warfare is based on deception. When capable, feign incapacity; when active, feign inactivity…'"

He spoke slowly but clearly, even repeating the few obscure annotations perfectly.

Nurhaci listened with increasing satisfaction, raised his hand and touched his son's head, the calluses on his palm tickling Dorgon's forehead slightly.

A thought suddenly flashed through his mind: if Dorgon were to inherit the Khanate in the future, with the boy's intelligence, he might very well be able to lead the Great Jin Dynasty to an even more prosperous state...

But he forcibly suppressed the thought as soon as it arose.

Nurhaci slowly shook his head, his loving gaze replaced by deep worry.

Dorgon was too young.

Not to mention compared to the highly decorated Daišan and Mangultai, even Huang Taiji, who was older than him, had already cultivated his own power in the army.

If a young boy, who has not reached adulthood, has no military achievements, and has no support base, is rashly placed on the throne, he will only become the target of public criticism.

At that time, let alone wielding power, he might not even be able to save his life.

How could those covetous older brothers allow a mere child to ride on their heads?
He knew better than anyone how many of his own clansmen he had killed in his quest for the throne.

Unless I live another ten years.

Oh no!

fifteen years.

Unfortunately, he felt he didn't have many years left.

"That's all."

Nurhaci sighed softly and pulled Dorgon to his side.

"You should study hard and learn skills; in the future... you will always be of use."

Just then, the tent flap was gently lifted, and Huerhan, dressed in military attire, walked in and knelt on one knee: "Great Khan, the Fourth Prince is waiting outside the tent."

Huang Taiji has arrived.

Nurhaci's cloudy eyes brightened for a moment, then he waved to Abahai and Dorgon, his voice hoarse: "You two go out first, let him in."

"Yes." Abahai curtsied, took Dorgon's hand, and slowly retreated. When they passed by Huang Taiji, their eyes met briefly. Abahai's eyes flashed with a hint of wariness, but Huang Taiji only nodded slightly, his expression respectful as usual.

The moment the tent flap closed again, Nurhaci stared at Abahai's plump figure, which seemed to burst out of her qipao, his eyes suddenly turned cold, and his pupils narrowed slightly.

This woman was in her prime, and her desires were as intense as a raging fire on the grassland. He had heard rumors about her having a secret affair with Daishan more than once.

If I close my eyes now, who knows if she might cheat on me, or even collude with outsiders to undermine my throne...

Perhaps, when he truly passes away, it would be best to have her buried with him.

Only by burying him in the ground can he rest in peace.

As his thoughts raced, Huang Taiji bowed and entered.

He immediately spotted his father, who was emaciated, on the low couch. He rushed forward, knelt down with a thud, crawled a few steps, and his face was instantly filled with pain and worry. His voice choked with sobs: "Father! How could your body be so weak? When I heard the news outside, my heart broke. I wish I could take your suffering upon myself!"

He looked every bit the filial son, his eyes red-rimmed and his voice trembling with tears.

But Nurhaci, being so shrewd, had already caught a glimpse of joy in his eyes.

It was an uncontrollable thirst for power.

This kid is hoping for his own death.

Nurhaci sneered inwardly, but his face remained impassive. He simply said, "Get up. Get to the point. There's no need for pretense."

Nurhaci had no dissatisfaction with Huang Taiji's attitude.

The grasslands are a place where the strong prey on the weak. This old wolf is no longer viable, so a new alpha wolf will naturally take his place.

What's the point of filial piety if even the most dutiful person can't maintain their family's legacy?

Huang Taiji's sorrowful expression froze for a moment, then returned to normal. He bowed his head and said, "Father, you are wise. Your son is truly worried about your health..."

"That's all."

Nurhaci interrupted him, coughing violently a few times before catching his breath.

"How's the cleanup going in Hetu Ala?"

"Reporting to Father Khan, the Han Chinese bondservants have cleared 30% of the ruins, and timber and ironware are being transported to the new camp. However..."

Huang Taiji then changed the subject.

"The Ming army has made increasingly tight defenses in Liaodong, and Xiong Tingbi has also deployed 30,000 troops to guard Shenyang. I'm afraid it will be difficult for us to move south for the time being."

Nurhaci remained silent for a moment.

He knew that Huang Taiji was telling the truth.

The defeat at Hetu Ala has severely weakened the Jin Dynasty, and it certainly needs time to recuperate.

He looked up at Huang Taiji. This son was quite capable in both literature and martial arts, but he lacked some of the ruthlessness he had in his youth.

Nurhaci believed that the failure to capture Shenyang was simply due to Huang Taiji's lack of military skill.

Looking at the various schools of thought...

Daishan's indecisiveness and his affair with Abahai caused him to lose face.

Mangultai was brave but reckless, more likely to cause trouble than to accomplish anything.

Ajige was still young, and Dorgon, though intelligent, was still just a child...

If he were to truly pass away at this moment, the only one who could hold up this dilapidated ship of the Great Jin would be Huang Taiji, whom he was not entirely satisfied with.

"What do you think we should do next?" Nurhaci asked, his tone carrying a subtle hint of probing.

Huang Taiji felt a chill run down his spine, knowing that his father was testing him.

He composed himself and replied in a deep voice, "I believe we should temporarily avoid the Ming army's sharp edge, first consolidate our internal forces, gather the scattered troops, take stock of our provisions, and then send someone to contact the Khalkha Mongols, promising them great rewards to have them contain the Ming army from the west. We can then concentrate our forces and take Shenyang next spring!"

His thinking was clear, and he proceeded step by step with a certain method.

Perhaps it wouldn't be impossible for Huang Taiji to succeed to the throne.

At least this kid knows how to be patient and how to plan, which is better than letting those idiots ruin Dajin.

"Shenyang is a place we absolutely must take."

"If we cannot capture Shenyang, our Great Jin will be trapped in the harsh land of Liaodong, with no room to maneuver, and we will be trapped to death sooner or later."

Nurhaci took a moment to catch his breath, his eyes flickering in the flickering candlelight inside the tent. His tone turned somber: "As for the Mongols... offering them great rewards might secure their temporary assistance, but it's unlikely to win their genuine allegiance. The wolves of the grasslands only recognize the strong. Only when our Great Jin is strong enough to crush the Ming Dynasty's passes when we march south will they willingly follow us and gnaw on our bones."

These words immediately made the atmosphere inside the tent heavy.

Huang Taiji listened with his head down, not daring to interrupt.

The Khan's words were both a warning and a reminder not to place his hopes on the barbarians of the grasslands.

Nurhaci took another breath, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed tightly: "The defeat in the Battle of Shenyang was humiliating. Half of our grain and fodder were burned, and we have very little gunpowder left. Without these things, let alone attacking Shenyang, it will be difficult to even hold Fushun, Kaiyuan, and Tieling. You have to find a way to replenish them as soon as possible."

"Your subject understands!" Huang Taiji immediately replied, his tone resolute.

"I have already sent people to handle the logistics, supplies, and gunpowder matters. The Shanxi merchants, those fat sheep, have had their homes confiscated by the Ming emperor. Although we have lost one supply line, we are looking for new avenues. There are salt merchants in Jiangnan who are willing to risk delivering goods, and several garrison commanders in the nine border regions have also loosened their grip. As long as the price is right, they dare to smuggle military equipment across the Great Wall."

A ruthless glint flashed in his eyes.

These days, as long as the profit is big enough, there will always be people who are not afraid of death.

Did the Ming emperor want to block their supply lines?

It's simply wishful thinking.

"As for provisions..." Huang Taiji changed the subject, a calculating glint in his eyes.

"Your subject intends to send troops to Korea to force them to offer up grain and people."

You should always pick the softest persimmons.

North Korea was weak and its military strength was far inferior to that of the Ming Dynasty, but it was a wealthy "blood bank" that could be used to fill the deficit of the Jin Dynasty.

"That is exactly what I intend to do."

Nurhaci's cloudy eyes brightened, and his gaze toward Huang Taiji held a hint of approval.

"Your prestige is still shallow. If you can subdue Korea and seize its food and people, it will be a great achievement, and your subordinates will naturally submit to you."

This is not only for the livelihood of Dajin, but also to pave the way for Huang Taiji.

His son needs a real victory to solidify his position.

But the praise was fleeting. Nurhaci's tone suddenly turned icy, like a blade chilled by ice: "But remember this, if we lose this battle, my Great Jin will never be able to recover and will be doomed. You will be no different."

Huang Taiji's heart skipped a beat. He looked up sharply, meeting his father's eyes, which seemed to see right through him, and solemnly kowtowed: "Your subject will remember your teachings, Father! Victory is certain in this battle!"

He was holding back a lot of energy.

If he can't even conquer North Korea, then Huang Taiji shouldn't covet the throne anymore; he should just slit his throat and apologize.

The Korean War must not only be won, but won spectacularly, silencing all the doubters!
Nurhaci watched his tense back and slowly closed his eyes.

The candlelight inside the tent flickered, illuminating his aged face. No one knew what this powerful figure was thinking at that moment.

Was he calculating the supply of provisions for North Korea, worrying about the future of the Great Kim, or weighing whether his son could truly handle the knife in his hand?

He couldn't let the business he built up step by step be squandered like this.

only……

Nurhaci felt very heavy-hearted.

With the emperor of Nikan in power, how could the Jin Dynasty rise to power?
Unconsciously, Nurhaci began to miss the Wanli Emperor and the glorious years when he and Li Chengliang were "as close as father and son" and when thirteen suits of armor unified the various Jurchen tribes.

But all of that is in the past now.

This era no longer belongs to this old man.

(End of this chapter)