Huangming

Chapter 445 A Dead End Leads to Suicide, Datong, Shanxi
Chahan Nuoer, meaning "white from a distance" in Mongolian, is also known as Baihaizi (White Sea).

In June, Chahan Nuoer is like a piece of jade that has turned white by the scorching sun.

The wind swept across the lake, carrying salty, bitter moisture, and passed over the salt fields on the shore.

The salt-boiling stoves run by Han people have lost all their former liveliness. Only the cracked salt ponds gleam with a pale light, and the salt grains roll and rustle in the wind, falling onto the tattered straw mats and accumulating into a thin layer of white frost.

In a depression on the north bank of Hubei, dozens of dilapidated tents were crammed together. The canvas was full of patches, and when the wind blew, it would bulge as if it were about to burst, revealing the felt inside, which had faded to grayish-brown.

This was the temporary camp of Wang Guoliang, Hei Yunlong and his group. Hundreds of remnants of the army were scattered around the tents. Some were leaning against the tent poles gnawing on dry, hard mutton, while others were wiping their rusty swords and spears with lake water. Their faces were full of exhaustion and confusion.

Having fled from Xuanfu to here, they had been running across the grasslands for nearly ten days. Their armor was covered in yellow sand and salt stains, and even their warhorses were so thin that their ribs were clearly visible.

"Damn it! When will this ever end?!"

Hei Yunlong suddenly threw the sheep bone in his hand to the ground, with a few bits of meat still clinging to it.

He sat cross-legged on the sand in front of the tent, kicking the salty soil at his feet in frustration.

"Every day it's either goat milk or boiled mutton, the smell is so strong it makes you want to vomit bile!"
"Back in Xuanfu, I had wine and meat at every meal, and even opera troupes performing. I've never suffered like this!"

As he spoke, his eyes glanced at Wang Guoliang, who was gnawing on a lamb leg not far away. His voice was lowered, but carried a hint of urgency:

"Brother-in-law, I think we shouldn't waste our time in this godforsaken place. Let's go to Datong!"

Seek refuge with my godfather!
He still has some influence in Datong; he might be able to help us make a comeback!

Upon hearing this, Wang Guoliang paused in his act of gnawing on a lamb leg.

He looked up, his face smeared with oil, and his eyes, which had once been full of vigor, now held only an unconcealable weariness.

This leg of lamb was obtained yesterday from a herdsman on the grassland. It was simply boiled in lake water without any salt added, and the gamey smell rushed straight to his throat, but he still forced himself to swallow it.

On the grasslands, having a hot meal is already considered a luxury.

"Go to Datong?"

He placed the lamb leg on his lap, picked up the leather bag beside him, and poured a mouthful of mare's milk wine into his mouth.

The liquor was sour and astringent, sliding down my throat, but it did nothing to dispel the restlessness in my heart.

"Do you think going to Datong is a path to survival or a path to death?"

Black Cloud Dragon was stunned for a moment, then said defiantly:

"How could it be a dead end?"

"Brother-in-law, let's not bring these remnants of the army. Just the two of us, disguised as herdsmen, will sneak in unnoticed. Who will find us?"

"Without anyone noticing?"

Wang Guoliang sneered and threw the leather bag on the ground.

"Have you forgotten how you were defeated by Ma Shilong?"

He stared into Hei Yunlong's eyes, his tone heavy.

“Ma Shilong has people from the Western Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard under his command. The news of our escape from Xuanfu may have already reached Datong.”

Do you really think your godfather would genuinely help us?

When we raised an army in Xuanfu, we sent people to Datong to ask for help, but they didn't send a single soldier!

Now we're like stray dogs, and he's only being kind by not binding us and handing us over to the court to curry favor!

Hei Yunlong was speechless after hearing this. He opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but couldn't find a reason.

He looked down at his calloused hands.

These hands, which used to hold wine cups and sword hilts, can now only grip mutton smeared with the smell of mutton. A feeling of resentment rises in his heart, and his eyes even start to well up with tears.

"Are we just going to stay here forever?"

His voice was low and tinged with resentment.

"We can't even get a bowl of rice in this godforsaken place, and the wind is full of the smell of salt. If we stay any longer, we'll die of thirst and starvation without the imperial court even having to come and arrest us!"

He told the truth.

The water in Chahan Nuoer Lake was so salty and bitter that it was undrinkable. They could only quench their thirst with the sheep's milk they had stolen and the spring water they occasionally found.

Food was in short supply; apart from mutton, there wasn't even any coarse grains available. Many soldiers had begun to complain, and some even secretly deserted.

Hei Yunlong was used to the good life of the deputy commander of Xuanfu, with beautiful women, fine wine, and exquisite snacks. He had never experienced such hardship of "eating in the wind and sleeping in the open".
These days, lying in his drafty tent at night, he often dreams of his time in the Xuanfu General's Mansion.

Upon waking up, all I could feel was the cold wind of the grassland and the strong smell of mutton; the disappointment in my heart felt like a knife cutting into me.

Wang Guoliang did not speak. He raised his head and looked towards Chahan Nuoer in the distance.

The lake surface shimmered with a pale light under the setting sun, like a giant piece of ice. The grassland stretched to the horizon in the distance, without a single decent tree, only a few clumps of withered yellow grass swaying in the wind.

I really can't stay here for long.

After all, there will come a day when he runs out of money.

Without money, there will be no more mutton or mare's milk.

But where else can they go besides here?
"Escape to the Western Regions?"

"Western Regions..."

His Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice was full of bitterness.

“We can’t even stand firm on the southern grasslands. If we go to the Western Regions, won’t we just become meat under someone else’s knife?”
The tribes there are ten times more ruthless than those in Subu. We have no food, no reinforcements, and not even anyone we can talk to. Going there means certain death.

Hei Yunlong lowered his head and did not refute further.

He had also thought about the Western Regions, but the thought of the rumors about sandstorms and killings made him shudder.

He used to live in Xuanfu, and he rarely even set foot on the grasslands, let alone that distant and unfamiliar land.

As night deepened, regret washed over Black Cloud Dragon's heart like a tidal wave.

He recalled the day he killed the imperial envoy, when he acted impulsively and joined Wang Guoliang in raising the banner of rebellion. Now, he realized he had been blinded by greed.

Back then, he was in Xuanfu, where he had roast goose and good wine at every meal, and was accompanied by Xiao Hong, a girl from the opera troupe. Unlike now, he can't even get a hot meal, and at night he can only listen to the wind on the grassland and stare blankly.

"If only I hadn't killed that imperial envoy back then..."

He murmured softly, his voice as light as the wind, but the soldiers beside him heard him.

The soldier also looked dejected and shook his head.

"What's the point of saying all this now? We've already crossed the line."

The tallow lamps around the camp were lit, their dim light filtering through the canvas and casting dappled shadows on the ground.

The soldiers gathered in twos and threes, holding leather bags in their hands, and guzzling mare's milk wine.

The wine was sour and astringent, but it could temporarily numb their nerves and make them forget their current predicament.

Some soldiers, after drinking too much, began to cry and curse, cursing the imperial court, cursing Ma Shilong, and cursing themselves for being blind to have followed the rebellion.

Some sat silently, gazing at the distant salt lake with vacant eyes.

The patrolling soldiers walked with heavy footsteps, the clanging of their armor particularly clear on the silent grassland, yet it brought them no sense of security whatsoever.

However, on the grassland ten miles away from Chahan Nuoer, the scene is quite different.

Ma Shilong and Chen Ce led three thousand Xuanfu cavalry and three thousand infantry, carrying countless torches, like a fiery dragon winding its way forward in the night.

The torchlight illuminated half the sky, shining on the soldiers' resolute faces and the spears and muskets they gripped tightly in their hands.

Subudil rode his warhorse and stood at the very front of the procession.

He was dressed in Mongolian tribal leather armor, with copper studs embedded in the armor plates, a curved knife hanging at his waist, and a wary look on his face.

The thousands of Kharachin cavalry behind him, though also carrying torches, were not as orderly as the Ming army, and many of them had uneasy looks in their eyes.

The Ming army's equipment was too superior; their bright silver armor gleamed coldly in the firelight, and their warhorses were stronger than theirs. Just their imposing presence alone was enough to make them a force to be reckoned with.

"Wang Guoliang is in the camp north of Baihaizi, with about a few hundred remaining soldiers."

Subu tightened the reins, his voice tinged with a hint of probing.

"I can take you there, but... did you bring the ten thousand taels of silver that Commander Xiong promised?"

Upon hearing this, Ma Shilong smiled slightly.

He turned his horse around to face Subudi, the torchlight illuminating his face, his eyes sharp as knives:

"Don't worry, my strategist is a man of his word. Let alone ten thousand taels, even a hundred thousand taels, as long as we can get Wang Guoliang's head, you will not be shortchanged by a single tael."

Subu was unsure.

He had long heard of Xiong Tingbi's reputation. This man was ruthless in Liaodong and always used a combination of kindness and severity towards the Mongol tribes. He probably wouldn't easily keep his promise.
But he looked at the Ming army in front of him.

Three thousand cavalrymen stood in neat formation, the muzzles of their muskets faintly pointed at them. Behind them were the infantry and chariot battalion led by Chen Ce. If he dared to utter even a single word of "no," these Ming soldiers would probably turn their guns around immediately.

Although the Kharachin tribe had several thousand cavalrymen, most of them were herdsmen, how could they possibly defeat the battle-hardened Ming army?
"We hope General Ma will keep his word."

Subu gritted his teeth, suppressing his unease.

"I'll take you there now, but once we get to the camp, my men will only be responsible for perimeter security and won't participate in the encirclement."

Although Wang Guoliang's men are few, they are all desperate criminals. I don't want my men to die in vain.

Ma Shilong nodded.

"Sure. You just need to take us to the place, and you don't need to worry about the rest."

He waved his hand and first sent out two hundred elite soldiers to take care of the guards and sentries.

Only then did he lead the entire army to set off.

Subu took a deep breath, turned his horse around, and galloped towards Chahan Nuoer.

The night wind in Chahan Nuoer carried salt grains, rustling softly as it swept through the low bushes surrounding the camp.

This sound became the best cover.

The two hundred elite vanguard men sent out by Ma Shilong were already lying in ambush behind the abandoned salt pans. They were dressed in dark, close-fitting clothes, with scimitars wrapped in hemp cloth at their waists, and even their horses' hooves were wrapped in felt, so they walked silently on the salt soil.

"Whoo~"

The leading sentry gestured behind him, pointing to the guard who was dozing off against a pile of salt ten meters away.

The guard was holding a long spear in his arms, nodding his head back and forth, humming a folk tune from Xuanfu. The wine flask at his waist was sticking out, clearly indicating that he had been secretly drinking mare's milk wine.

Two men darted out like cats. One covered the guard's mouth, while the other swung his scimitar. With a flash of cold light, a bloody gash appeared on the guard's neck, and he collapsed to the ground without even uttering a sound.

After the body was quickly dragged into the abandoned stove, only a small patch of dark blood remained on the salt soil.

In less than half an incense stick's time, all the dozen or so guards on the perimeter of the camp were dealt with.

A young guard sensed something was wrong and was about to reach for his musket when a short crossbow bolt pierced his throat. As the bolt disappeared into his body, his eyes were still filled with confusion.

He died without ever seeing where the enemy came from.

"go!"

The sentry gave a low shout, and the two hundred vanguard soldiers split into ten teams, like ten black shadows, and slipped into the gaps between the tents in the camp.

Inside the camp.

Most of the soldiers were still asleep, drunk. Some were snoring while hugging their wine flasks, while others were curled up on their felt mats with white foam of goat's milk still on their lips.

A first man lifted the tent flap and saw three soldiers lying inside. He slashed with his scimitar in succession, and after three very soft "plop" sounds, three dark red stains appeared on the felt.

Those soldiers never woke up from their drunken stupor until they died.

Some were startled awake. A soldier with a flushed face was awakened by the noise from the next tent. As soon as he sat up, he saw a dark figure standing at the tent entrance.

Just as he was about to shout "There are enemies!", his throat was gripped tightly, and his vision gradually went black.

The entire infiltration was incredibly fast; the camp was only completely thrown into chaos when the soldiers in the third tent screamed in agony.

But it was too late.

"kill!"

Ma Shilong's voice came from outside the camp, carrying the force of breaking the wind.

Three thousand cavalrymen, carrying torches, surged into the camp like a tide. The torchlight illuminated the swords and spears, and the shouts of battle, the clash of weapons, and the screams of drunken soldiers instantly drowned out the sound of the wind in Chahan Nuoer.

Wang Guoliang was awakened by screams outside the tent.

He wasn't in a deep sleep to begin with.

These days of fleeing have made him extremely nervous; he even sleeps in light leather armor, his hand resting on the ring-pommel sword beside his pillow.

The moment he heard the noise, he sat up abruptly, lifted the tent flap, and saw flames shooting into the sky.

The Ming cavalry had already stormed into the tent area, and their own soldiers were either being cut down or kneeling down to surrender, creating chaos.

"go!"

Wang Guoliang ignored Hei Yunlong, who was still frantically dressing inside the tent, and didn't even look back. He charged straight towards the warhorse outside the main tent.

The horse was a fine steed he had specially kept, and it was now pawing restlessly. He mounted the horse, lay on its back, and charged toward the salt fields to the west of the camp.

Perhaps he can use the complex terrain of the salt fields to escape.

"Want to run?"

Ma Shilong spotted the figure breaking through the encirclement at a glance.

He spurred his horse and charged forward, his spear flashing as he thrust it toward Wang Guoliang's back.

"Look at the gun!"

The spear, with a sharp whistling sound as it cut through the air, hurtled straight towards his back.

Wang Guoliang reacted extremely quickly, suddenly flipping off his horse and using his ring-pommel sword to block the spear with a clang, sparks flying in the torchlight.

The two warhorses passed each other, and Ma Shilong, by the light of the fire, saw the man's face clearly.

With his prominent cheekbones and smears of mutton fat on his lips, who else could it be but Wang Guoliang?

"Wang Guoliang! Die!"

Ma Shilong roared angrily, turned his horse around, and charged again.

Wang Guoliang dared not linger in the fight, and only managed to parry two blows. His ring-pommel sword was numb from the impact of the spear. He dared not delay and spurred his horse toward the salt fields, ignoring the cries for help from Hei Yunlong behind him.

"Don't let him get away! The one in the red robe is Wang Guoliang!"

Ma Shilong shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice standing out clearly in the chaotic camp.

The surrounding Ming cavalry immediately turned around and surrounded the red figure.

Wang Guoliang panicked and reached out to tear off his red robe.

That was his official robe from when he was the deputy general of Xuanfu. He couldn't bear to throw it away when he was on the run, but now it had become a target.

The red robe fell to the ground and was trampled to pieces by the warhorses behind him, but just as he breathed a sigh of relief, Ma Shilong's voice came again:

"The one with the long beard is Wang Guoliang!"

"Damn!"

Wang Guoliang gritted his teeth, freed one hand, grabbed the curved knife, and slashed at his chin.

His beard fell in drizzle, mixed with drops of blood. He grimaced in pain, but dared not stop.

Survival is the most important thing!

Before he could even catch his breath, Ma Shilong's voice rang out again like a death knell:
"The one with long hair is Wang Guoliang!"

His hair was already long enough to reach his shoulders, but at this moment he disregarded the custom that "our bodies and hair are given to us by our parents." With a backhand slash of his scimitar, his long hair fell loose and draped over his shoulders, making him look like a mad herdsman.

He had only one thought in his mind:
run!
As long as we rush into the abandoned salt fields and use the complex terrain to escape the Ming army, we can survive!

But Ma Shilong's next words made him freeze on his horse.

"The one with a head is Wang Guoliang!"

Wang Guoliang nearly fell off his horse. He turned around and glared angrily at Ma Shilong, who was chasing after him, his eyes filled with resentment.

That son of a bitch is clearly playing a trick on him!

Does he expect him to cut off his own head?
"Hahaha!"

Seeing him freeze, Ma Shilong couldn't help but burst into laughter, raising his spear in the air.

"Wang Guoliang, you can't escape! Today is your death day!"

The Ming cavalry surrounded him, their torches casting a sea of ​​fire that illuminated Wang Guoliang's figure in every detail.

The bloodstains on his leather armor, the salt on his face, and the despair in his eyes were all clearly visible to Ma Shilong.

The cavalrymen's shouts grew closer, with cries of "Those who surrender will not be killed" and "Capture the traitor!" rising and falling. The tips of their spears gleamed coldly in the firelight, like countless sharp knives, staring intently at him.

Wang Guoliang gritted his teeth, spurred the horse's flanks hard with his right hand, and hoarsely shouted "Giddy up!"

But the warhorse he rode had long lost its former majesty.

After running for half an hour, its breathing was heavy like a broken bellows, white mist spewed from its nostrils, and sweat dripped down its mane, soaking the felt under the saddle.

With each step he took, all four of his legs trembled slightly, clearly indicating that he was at his last gasp.

The warhorse slowed down, and occasionally a spear would whistle past his shoulder, the sharp sound of it cutting through the air sending shivers down his neck.

Even more critically, at the fork in the road ahead over the salt fields, two squads of Ming cavalry suddenly rushed out, their long spears arrayed horizontally, blocking their path.

The leading cavalry captain shouted:
"Wang Guoliang! Surrender at once!"

There were obstacles blocking their way ahead and pursuers behind.

Wang Guoliang's heart sank to the bottom.

Another quarter of an hour passed.

Suddenly, the warhorse beneath him let out a shrill whinny. Its forelegs buckled, and it collapsed to the ground, foaming at the mouth and convulsing.

It eventually couldn't hold on any longer.

"not good!"

Wang Guoliang's pupils contracted sharply, and his body was propelled forward by inertia.

He instinctively curled up and rolled around on the salt soil a few times. His leather armor rubbed against the salt grains, causing his wounds to ache terribly. The ring-pommel sword slipped from his hand and landed on a pile of salt not far away, its hilt still wobbling slightly.

He struggled to sit up, and just as he was about to pick up his knife, he saw that the Ming cavalry had surrounded him, the tips of their spears all pointing at him, and the torchlight made his cheeks burn.

Without warhorses or weapons, he was all alone, surrounded in the center.

Looking at the densely packed Ming army before him, Wang Guoliang finally realized that he was completely trapped in a desperate situation.

In fact, he had foreseen this outcome the day he fled Xuanfu.

But when death was truly near, a feeling of resentment still surged in his chest.

He recalled his youth when he served in the Xuanfu Garrison, where he rose from a common soldier to a deputy general and then to a commander-in-chief, thanks to his martial arts skills and military leadership.

I once dreamed of guarding a region and fighting traitors for my country, but now...

"such a pity……"

He murmured quietly.

"In the end, I'll die here. It's better to die at the hands of our own people than to die by the Tartars' swords on the battlefield, at least then I'd earn the reputation of a loyal subject..."

"Loyal minister?"

Ma Shilong rode up to him, looked down at him, and spoke with a tone full of sarcasm.

"You murdered the imperial envoy and rebelled. How many people in Xuanfu City have been displaced because of you, and how many government soldiers have died unjustly because of you!"
Now you want to play the loyal minister?
You deserve it too! "

Wang Guoliang raised his head, his face full of bitterness.

"I never thought of rebelling!"

General Ma, you must believe me!
It was Hei Yunlong who killed the imperial envoy and forced me to raise the banner of rebellion!
"I...I was forced into it too!"

When Hei Yunlong was mentioned, a hint of resentment flashed in his eyes, as if he wanted to pin all the blame on that person.

Ma Shilong sneered and stopped arguing with him.

It's pointless to say these things now.

Wang Guoliang looked at Ma Shilong's cold eyes, then glanced at the gleaming spears around him.

He slowly stood up, staggered to the salt pile where the ring-pommel sword was stuck, and pulled out the sword.

The blade reflected his disheveled appearance, as well as the wary gazes of the Ming soldiers around him.

"My sins are indeed so terrible that I would rather die ten thousand times over."

He gripped the hilt of the knife tightly, and his voice suddenly became resolute.

"There's no need for General Ma to do it."

"It's better for me to end it myself than to be taken back to Xuanfu and subjected to the excruciating punishment of being slowly sliced ​​to death."

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly held the ring-pommel sword horizontally across his neck, closed his eyes, and tightened his wrist.

The blade sliced ​​across his throat, and blood gushed out, splattering onto the white salt soil like blooming, mournful red flowers.

He swayed and slowly fell to the ground, his fingers still gripping the knife hilt tightly, the light in his eyes gradually fading.

Ma Shilong looked at Wang Guoliang, who was lying on the ground convulsing, remained silent for a moment, and then sighed softly.

He had to admit that Wang Guoliang was indeed quite capable.

Back when he trained troops in Xuanfu, the fighting strength of the troops he trained was among the best in the border towns. If he could dedicate himself to serving the country, he might very well become a great general.

Unfortunately, one wrong step led to total defeat.

“Collect his body, cut off his head, and bring it back to Xuanfu to be displayed to the public.”

Ma Shilong dismounted and gave instructions to his personal guards.

The guards obeyed the order, stepped forward, carefully cut off Wang Guoliang's head, and wrapped it in cloth.

With the execution of Wang Guoliang, this rebellion that shook Xuanfu finally came to an end.

But Ma Shilong knew in his heart that the matter was far from over.

Or
Xuanfu was just the beginning.

As the military commissioner of the nine border regions, Xiong Tingbi's rectification of Xuanfu was only the first step. Next, there were other towns such as Datong and Shanxi waiting to be dealt with.

If the nine border regions are not pacified and the army of the Ming Dynasty is not brought under Your Majesty's control, how can Your Majesty's reforms be successfully implemented?
Those parasites in the Nine Borders!

Just wait to be wiped out by His Majesty!

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(End of this chapter)