Huangming

Chapter 419 Sharpening the Army's Strategies and Winning Hearts, Seizing Strategic Advantages and Awaiting the Right Moment (Bonus Chapter for 1000 Monthly Tickets!)
Fushun.

The city wall, which was bombarded by Ming army cannons last year, has been repaired with new soil, but uneven cracks can still be seen.

The wall was covered with rusty shrapnel, and there were still broken pieces of wood and bricks piled up at the base of the wall.

Needless to say, half of the streets and alleys were still ruins, with makeshift thatched huts erected among the broken walls, and soldiers hunched over repairing the roofs.

But at the moment.

The wilderness outside the city was already a completely different world.

The 80,000-strong army had spread out like an iron torrent, stretching from the west gate of Fushun all the way to the east bank of the Suzi River, with no end in sight.

Banners fluttered in the wind: bright yellow banners with the character "Ming," red banners with the character "Xiong" (bear) with black characters, wolf-head banners of the Khorchin tribe, eagle banners of the five Inner Khalkha tribes, and the generals' flags of various battalions, densely covering half the sky.

The sharp edges of the spears and halberds reflected the rising sun, gleaming with a cold, menacing light, and even the air was filled with the smell of iron and gunpowder.

Xiong Tingbi, the Liaodong military commissioner, was clad in mountain-patterned armor, with an imperial sword hanging at his waist, and his eyes were piercing like torches.

He strode up the three-zhang-high elm wood platform.

On the platform were ten vermilion lacquered wooden boxes, covered with yellow silk.

After ascending the platform, Xiong Tingbi surveyed the generals and soldiers below.

"Commanders!"

Xiong Tingbi's voice boomed like a bell, drowning out the sound of banners fluttering in the wind, and could be heard clearly even by the cavalry in the distance.

He raised his hand, lifted the yellow silk, and yanked open the lid of the top wooden box.

The sharp glint of silver suddenly spilled out, so bright it was blinding; the 380,000 taels of official silver were neatly stacked.

"This is a reward allocated by His Majesty from the imperial treasury!"

After the war, those who distinguished themselves in the battle were rewarded with official positions, titles, and ten times more silver!

He grabbed a handful of silver ingots and let them slip through his fingers.

The clanging sound inside the wooden box was so crisp it seemed to resonate in everyone's heartstrings.

"But what I want to reward you with today is not just silver!"

Xiong Tingbi's voice suddenly turned stern, and his gaze swept across the military formation below the stage.

"It's never too late for a gentleman to take revenge!"

"Today, we are going to take our revenge!"
In the Battle of Sarhu, the Jurchens killed 40,000 Ming soldiers!
When Kaiyuan and Tieling fell, they slaughtered seven or eight out of ten of our Han people!
Many women and children were abducted, and many houses were burned down!
This grudge, our Great Ming Dynasty has not yet been settled!

Clang!
Xiong Tingbi suddenly drew his Shangfang sword, its blade gleaming in the morning sun, so bright it could reflect a person's image. He pointed the tip of the sword directly at Hetu Ala in the north, and his voice shattered the heavens.

"Today we set out on our expedition. This strategist has only one order:"

kill!kill!kill!

All Jurchens who carry weapons, whether they are Jurchens, Mongols, or Han traitors, who dare to resist, shall be executed!
When the walls of Hetu Ala collapse, I, the strategist, will see the Suzi River filled with the corpses of the Jurchens!
We must let the Jurchens know that the blood of the Ming Dynasty was not shed in vain!

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

The roar of 80,000 people suddenly exploded, causing the crumbling walls of Fushun to crumble and even rippling the surface of the Liao River.

The soldiers in the front row raised their weapons, spears and halberds like a forest, while the cavalry in the back row tightened their reins, their warhorses pawing the ground and neighing.

Wang Polu, the commander of the artillery battalion, strode up to the three general cannons. He had a scar on his face, running from his forehead to his chin, which he had left last year when he was defending Shenyang.

He took the flint and steel from his guard, swung it fiercely, and smashed it against the trigger of the starting cannon.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Three loud explosions rang out in succession, the sound waves carrying smoke and dust sweeping across the plains, even causing the ground to tremble slightly.

As the smoke cleared, the muzzle flashes were still visible, and the projectiles had already shot into the distant sky.

He was firing three cannon shots to signal the start of the campaign.

The Zhejiang soldiers' musketeers at the front of the formation all knelt on one knee, slamming their muskets to the ground with a thud. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, as if done by a single person.

This is a ritual of fighting to the death passed down from Qi Jiguang's army.

Kneeling on one knee is a sign that one will fight to the death and not retreat.

Slamming the butt of the gun into the ground is a sign of determination to kill all the bandits.

There was no fear on their faces, only determination; the tiger head patterns on their rattan shields seemed to come alive in the morning light.

Xiong Tingbi surveyed the three armies one last time, his gaze sweeping from the rattan shields of the Zhejiang soldiers to the wolf flags of the Khorchin, and then to the musket array of the Beijing garrison. A smile gradually appeared on his face.

He took a bowl of wine from his personal guard.

The liquor was a strong, potent spirit; he tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp, the liquid flowing down his chin and neck, soaking the lining of his armor.

Then he slammed the wine bowl to the ground with a loud crash, sending shards of porcelain flying everywhere.

"Soldiers!"

He roared loudly, in a very heroic manner.

"If I am defeated in this battle, I will first commit suicide by sword to atone for my sins!"

"Gentlemen, follow me straight to the heart of the enemy, reclaim Liaodong, and avenge my blood feud!"

"Strike straight at the heart of the enemy! Reclaim Liaodong! Avenge our blood feud!"

"Strike straight at the heart of the enemy! Reclaim Liaodong! Avenge our blood feud!"

"Strike straight at the heart of the enemy! Reclaim Liaodong! Avenge our blood feud!"

The shouts rang out again, louder and more intense than before.

Xiong Tingbi pointed the imperial sword diagonally to the sky, waving it northward, and shouted at the same time:
"set off!"

Ever since.

The army slowly moved forward, with Zhejiang soldiers in front, musketeers following closely behind, cavalry protecting the flanks, and the artillery battalion pushing the general's cannons to bring up the rear.

They headed towards Hetu Ala, slowly but resolutely.

The main force of the Ming army has been mobilized.

Three days earlier, Chen Ce had already led the vanguard across Fushun Pass and into the mountains.

Chen Ce led the vanguard through the ruins of Tumuhe Village.

The wooden buildings that were burned down when the Ming army left last year are now just charred pillars. Scattered arrowheads and rusted armor plates can still be seen at the base of the walls, indicating that the Jurchens did not send anyone to repair this "useless land".

"General, the old Hada tribe village on the outskirts of Hetu Ala is just ahead."

The scout captain dismounted and knelt on one knee to report.

"These tribes have indeed stockpiled food."

Chen Ce reined in his horse, his gaze sweeping over the distant mountain stronghold where smoke curled from its chimneys, and said coldly:

"Pass down the order: surround the village but do not attack; first, try to persuade them to surrender."

Those who are willing to offer grain and surrender will be pardoned; those who dare to resist will have their camp burned down and no one left alive.

The side wagons behind him were already lined up in a fan shape, with musketeers crouching behind them, their gun muzzles faintly pointing towards the mountain stronghold.

Before half an incense stick's time had passed, the village gate creaked open, and a dozen or so emaciated Jurchen herders walked out carrying grain sacks, followed by several trembling Mongols.

"Don't kill us, we're willing to surrender!"

These were all small tribes that were dependent on the Jurchens. Seeing the Ming army's overwhelming strength, they dared not resist.

With a wave of his hand, Chen Ce bound all the men together, ransacked the village, burned it down, and then left.

Over three days.

Chen Ce led his troops to wipe out seventeen tribes around Hetu Ala. Although the millet and meat they seized were not abundant, they relieved the vanguard's urgent needs. More importantly, they completely cut off Hetu Ala's possibility of seeking help and supplies from the outside world.

After clearing the surrounding area, Chen Ce then led his army to Hetu Ala.

By the time the army arrived at the city of Hetu Ala, the sun was past noon, and the Suzi River shimmered with light, making the stone-built inner city appear even more majestic.

Chen Ce raised his hand to signal a halt to the advance and to prepare to set up camp.

The soldiers immediately sprang into action.

The wagons were lined up end to end, forming a circular camp ten miles outside the city. Deer antlers were driven deep into the ground, and watchtowers were quickly erected.

"General, look!"

The guard pointed to the city wall. The city gate of Hetu Ala was already tightly closed, the drawbridge was raised high, and the heads of people could be vaguely seen on the city wall. Archers were peering out from the crenellations.

A cold smile curled at the corner of Chen Ce's lips.

My army is here. Are you going to fight me in the open without leaving the city?
When did you Jurchens become so polite?
After waiting for half an hour, the Ming army was about to start setting up their camp, but no one from Hetu Ala came out.

Chen Ce was already getting impatient.

He turned to look behind him and called out:

"Wang Hu!"

"The general is here!"

A burly man stepped forward in response, with a leopard-like head and piercing eyes. He was the night watchman who had escaped from the pile of corpses after the fall of Fushun.

His voice sounded like it had been scorched by fire; it was rough and hoarse when he spoke, yet it was exceptionally penetrating.

"What are your orders, General?"

"Take your men and go remind the Tartars on the city walls to be more vigilant."

Chen Ce tossed a wine sac over, and a few drops of wine sloshed out from the sac's opening.

"Let them know that our Ming soldiers are not here to waste time with them."

Wang Hu caught the wine flask, tilted his head back, and gulped down most of it, the strong liquor dripping down his bushy beard.

He wiped his mouth and waved his hand dismissively:
"I will obey your orders!"

After receiving the order, he turned around and shouted to those behind him:

"My lads, come with me!"

More than ten elite cavalrymen immediately spurred their horses forward, their hooves pounding the soft ground and kicking up clouds of dust, until they reached the moat before reining in their horses.

"Listen up, you bastards on the city wall!"

Wang Hu's roar, mixed with the local Liaodong accent, was like a stone thrown onto the peaceful city wall.

"Weren't you all quite impressive when you slaughtered Kaiyuan the year before last?"

They burned down our Han people's houses and robbed us of our women. Now how come they're hiding in the city like cowards?
"Were your testicles frozen off?!"

The cavalrymen behind him immediately coordinated, raising their three-barreled muskets. Three crisp "bang bang bang" sounds rang out in succession, and amidst the billowing smoke, a commotion broke out on the city wall.

On the inner city's arrow tower, Ashan, the chieftain of the Bordered Blue Banner, was so angry at the sight that he slammed his fist into the crenellation, causing the blue bricks to crack.

He turned around abruptly, looked at Huang Taiji standing behind him, knelt on one knee, and placed his right hand on the hilt of his sword: "Great Khan! These southern barbarians are too arrogant!"

"This servant is willing to lead three hundred Bayarat to charge out, cut off the head of that taunting fellow, and hang it on the city gate!"

Huang Taiji did not reply immediately; he was holding a telescope and carefully observing the Ming army's camp.

Sunlight streamed through his glasses, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on his face, obscuring his expression.

Only when Ah Shan's breathing became increasingly rapid did he slowly lower his binoculars and point to the seemingly chaotic array of wagons on the left flank of the Ming army:

"Look there."

Ashan looked in the direction he pointed and saw Ming soldiers moving between several sidecars, their movements uniform and synchronized, as if they were changing formations.

"That is……"

"It's the Mandarin Duck Formation of Qi Jiguang's army."

Huang Taiji's voice was low and deep, carrying a hint of barely perceptible solemnity.

“Those sidecars weren’t just placed randomly. The distance between them was just enough for the musketeers to take turns firing, and there were also riflemen hidden behind them.”

If you lead Bayara out, you'll be riddled with bullets as soon as you cross the moat.

As soon as he finished speaking, the curses from below the city walls suddenly rose in intensity, becoming even more vicious than before.

Ah Shan peered out and saw Wang Hu directing two soldiers to drag five corpses off their horses.

The corpses were dressed in armor with red flags, and their armor was still stained with fresh blood. They were clearly scouts sent out the day before, who had all been wiped out by the Ming army.

"Look at your 'Eight Banners Warriors'!"

Wang Hu kicked the first corpse in the chest, and the body rolled down the riverbank into the moat with a splash.

"With such a pathetic appearance, how dare you fight against our Ming army?"
What, those on the city wall don't dare come down to avenge them?
Are they scared, or do they think these people deserved to die?!

The Jurchen soldiers on the city wall were in complete uproar. Several young armored soldiers had already drawn their swords and were roaring at the people below. Even the archers had nocked their arrows, waiting for the order to fire.

However, Wang Hu's location was outside the range of arrows, so even if he shot an arrow, it would be in vain.

Ah Shan could no longer restrain himself and suddenly drew his waist knife. The blade flashed in the sunlight, but Huang Taiji's cold gaze froze him in place.

There was no anger in his eyes, yet Ah Shan's hand holding the knife involuntarily paused.

"Pass the order."

Huang Taiji turned around and faced the banner leaders who had rushed over upon hearing the news, his voice carrying a hint of suppressed murderous intent.

"From this day forward, anyone who dares to declare war will be executed."

The archers were divided into three shifts. If any Ming soldier entered within a hundred paces, they would immediately begin firing arrows; no one, not even a horse, was allowed to approach the city wall.

It's not that he doesn't want to fight, it's that he can't.

The elite cavalry outside the city had already laid an ambush in the mountains and forests as planned, waiting to intercept Xiong Tingbi's supply lines.

The remaining soldiers in the city were mostly Han and Mongol soldiers, as well as many newly recruited Jurchen youths, whose fighting strength was already weak.

If we were to leave the city to fight now, and fall into the Ming army's ambush, the city would be left vulnerable, and the remaining people would be unable to defend Hetu Ala.

"Great Khan..."

Ashan wanted to say something more, but Huang Taiji raised his hand to interrupt him.

"Wait."

Huang Taiji uttered only one word, yet it carried immense weight.

"Wait for Xiong Tingbi's main force to arrive."

With his army besieging the city, the supply lines will inevitably be long, and Ajige's men will soon receive news.

"At that time, Ajige will plunder the Ming army in Liaodong, making it difficult for the Ming army to defend both ends. Only then can we launch a pincer attack from both inside and outside, thus securing victory in one battle."

"Now, we have to endure it!"

The current forbearance is not out of cowardice, but rather a prelude to a final counterattack.

As long as he can weather this storm, once the Ming army runs out of food and morale wavers, that will be his chance to turn the tide.

Ah Shan's face was full of humiliation, but he had no choice but to obey.

Three more days passed amidst Wang Hu's shouts and curses.

Outside the city, the Han army's camp was almost fully set up.

And at this time.

The main force of the Ming army, led by Xiong Tingbi, stretched like a giant steel dragon from the direction of Fushun, with its banners reaching across the sky.

The main force of the Ming army finally arrived outside the city of Hetu Ala.

Xiong Tingbi reined in his horse on a high slope, looking towards Hetu Ala with a gaze as sharp as a knife.

The soldiers behind him quickly unfurled a map, the mountains and rivers on the parchment clearly marked in red ink.

After observing for a while, Xiong Tingbi decisively gave the order.

"Send the order!"

Fifty thousand infantrymen were to camp three li outside the city, with a watchtower every hundred paces. The camp was surrounded by three layers of barricades and chevaux-de-frise; no one was allowed to enter or leave without permission!

As soon as the order was given, the infantrymen sprang into action. The sounds of shovels digging and mallets striking deer antlers filled the air. In less than an hour, a ring-shaped defensive line was formed around Hetu Ala, like an iron net that firmly covered the capital of the Jurchens.

at the same time.

Ten sand barges transferred from the Tianjin Navy sailed down the Suzi River, their sails bearing the character "Ming" (明) fluttering in the wind. The sailors erected arrow towers and set up muskets, completely blocking the waterway.

If Huang Taiji wanted to break out from the eastern mountains and then escape to Korea along the Suzi River, that route was now blocked.

On the eastern foothills of Longgang Mountain, Buhe, the Shunli King of the Khorchin tribe, and Chaohua, the leader of the five Inner Khalkha tribes, led 10,000 Mongol cavalrymen in formation.

The wolf-head banners and eagle flags were arranged in an alternating pattern, and the cavalrymen, with their hands on their sabers, stared warily into the depths of the mountains and forests.

Any Jurchen soldiers attempting to break out from here would be met with the might of the Mongol cavalry.

With the encirclement complete, Xiong Tingbi slowly raised his hand and ordered his men to erect two ten-foot-tall surrender flags.

On the scarlet silk, twelve large characters were written in black ink: “Those who surrender will be spared death, granted land and exempted from taxes, and their lives will be preserved.” The characters were vigorous and stood out prominently in the sunlight.

Immediately afterwards, twenty breech-loading cannons were pushed to the front of the battle line, their muzzles aimed at the outer city wall. The gunners skillfully loaded gunpowder and embedded the cannonballs, waiting only for the order to blast open a breach.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Three cannon shots shattered the silence, and cannonballs whistled as they crashed into the outer city wall, sending dirt and stones flying. The Jurchen soldiers on the city wall were so frightened that they all lay down. Some soldiers who did not have time to dodge were hit by the falling stones and screamed as they rolled off the city wall.

Chen Ce stood at the front of the battle line, watching the chaotic scene on the city wall. A cold smile curled at the corner of his lips. He turned to his personal guards and said:

“Bring those prisoners up here and give the Tartars a good ‘brainwashing’.”

Upon receiving the order, the guards immediately led their personal troops to bring over a dozen Jurchen prisoners.

Most of these prisoners were dressed in rags, some with blood-stained rags wrapped around their arms, and some with their ankles chained. They walked with a limp and were pushed by their guards to the most conspicuous spot below the city.

The guard, carrying a dagger still stained with blood from the previous day's battle, kicked the foremost prisoner in the back and shouted sternly:

"Shout! Shout exactly as we taught you! If you miss a single word, you'll be chopped up and fed to the dogs on the spot!"

The prisoner staggered to his feet, looked up at the familiar flags atop the city wall, his body trembling uncontrollably. Yet, under Wang Hu's gleaming blade, he cried out in a hoarse voice:
"Listen up, folks in the city! The Ming army of 80,000 men has arrived in Fushun, with 200 cannons and 80,000 catties of gunpowder! Hetu Ala cannot be defended!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it was particularly jarring on the silent battlefield, like a needle piercing through the Jurchen soldiers' hopes on the city walls.

A soldier with a red flag gripped his spear tightly, his eyes filled with panic.

He recalled the Battle of Fushun last year, when the Ming army's artillery was just as powerful, and after the city fell, the streets were filled with corpses.

Is it
Will my fate be the same as those Eight Banner brothers who defended Fushun?

Another prisoner was brought out by the guards; he was calmer than the first, but his voice was still trembling with tears.

"The city's food supplies will only last a few months. If we continue to hold out, we'll all starve to death!"

The Ming general Xiong Jinglue issued an order: "Surrender now, and you will be granted land, exempted from taxes, and your life will be spared!"

"The people of the Ming Dynasty have land to cultivate and food to eat!"

The third prisoner mustered his courage and added that he was originally a Han Chinese who had been captured by the Jurchens to serve as a soldier. Now, looking at his comrades with Han army flags on the city wall, his voice was more earnest.

"If we continue to resist the Jurchens, on the day the city falls, not a single chicken or dog will be spared!"

On the city wall, the expressions of the Han soldiers changed slightly, and some quietly lowered their heads.

They were not willing to serve the Jurchens in the first place, and now that they heard that surrendering would give them a way to survive and allow them to cultivate land, they couldn't help but waver.

Several soldiers exchanged glances, which were noticed by the supervising officers of the Bordered Yellow Banner. The officers immediately raised their long swords and shouted sternly:
"What are you looking at! If you dare to whisper again, you will be punished as a traitor!"

The Han soldiers quickly lowered their heads, but could not hide the hesitation in their eyes.

On the inner city's arrow tower, Huang Taiji stood in the shadows, his face so gloomy it seemed to drip water.

Fan Wencheng, standing beside him, lowered his voice and said, "Your Majesty, the Ming army is using a psychological warfare tactic. If this continues, the morale of the army will likely collapse..."

Huang Taiji stared intently at the trembling prisoners below the city.

"Pass down the order: anyone who shakes the morale of the army, whether a Manchu or a Han Chinese, shall be executed on the spot!"
The Han army banner's various banner chiefs are to strengthen patrols; anyone who dares to privately convey messages of surrender will be punished along with their relatives!

The military order quickly spread throughout the city walls, and the supervising officers held their long swords to the necks of the Han soldiers. The whispers on the city walls gradually subsided, replaced by a more oppressive silence.

The prisoners below the city continued to shout, again and again, their voices echoing between the walls of Hetu Ala, like ghosts burrowing into the ears of every Jurchen soldier.

As the sun rose higher, the ice on the Suzi River melted, and the water shimmered with a cold light, reflecting the tense faces of the soldiers on the city walls.

Huang Taiji knew that Xiong Tingbi's strategy of winning hearts and minds had taken effect.

The wavering of the Han soldiers and the panic of the Jurchen soldiers both told him that this city might not last much longer.

But he had no other choice but to hold on, waiting for news from Amin and Ajige's cavalry, waiting for a breach in the Ming army's supply lines, and waiting for that faint glimmer of hope.

Under the city.

Seeing that there was no movement from the city wall, Chen Ce's personal guard sneered and kicked the prisoner next to him to the ground.
"Keep shouting! Keep shouting until they open the gates and surrender!"

The cries and shouts of the prisoners mingled with the distant cannon fire of the Ming army, enveloping Hetu Ala and making everyone feel suffocated.

The siege continues.

Xiong Tingbi's delay in attacking the city was aimed at wearing down the morale of those within.

Huang Taiji's decision not to engage in open battle outside the city was because he was waiting for the right opportunity.

but
The day when war breaks out completely, with both sides locked in a fierce battle, and a victor emerges is not far off.

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(End of this chapter)