How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 128 Bloodstained Han River—Times Are Changing! (6000+ words, please vote!)
"Quickly! Quickly! Form ranks along the river! Surround them with wagons!"

The Han River finally came into view! The troops rushed to a sharp bend in the riverbank, where a wide open beach lay before them, with the surging river at their backs—a highly advantageous position. Yang Sichang's voice was hoarse, almost cracking, yet he still forced himself to order the deployment of defenses.

He immediately mounted a slightly elevated earthen mound, his gaze sweeping across the entire area. Xu Qinian rode ahead, loudly relaying specific instructions and directing the various units to their positions. Generals Huang Degong and Li Changgen roared and even cracked their whips to urge the soldiers to move swiftly. The vehicles were hastily linked together, utilizing the natural curve of the riverbank to quickly form an arc-shaped vehicle formation bulging towards the land—the prototype of the classic "Crescent Moon Formation." Using the vehicles as a shield, the soldiers frantically dug shallow trenches, piled up earthen ramparts, and reinforced the defensive line.

Yang Hao rode up to Yang Sichang's side, his face grave. He said in a low voice, "Wenruo, the Prince Li's carriage is of utmost importance and cannot be lost. Give me two hundred personal guards, and I will personally escort it, just in case." Although he said this, his eyes revealed a ruthless intent—the so-called escort was actually guarding, and they absolutely could not allow Li Zong to escape or be captured in the chaos.

Yi Jong died for his country, but his legacy will be carried on by his successors. If he were to become a "son-king" of the Later Jin, the Ming Dynasty would lose Korea.
Yang Sichang gave Yang Hao a deep look, instantly understanding his meaning, and nodded without hesitation: "Alright. Mr. Jingfu, I entrust the safety of Prince Li to you!" He then selected two hundred elite personal guards and placed them under Yang Hao's command.

Upon receiving the order, Yang Hao immediately led his troops to the carriage of King Injo of Joseon, and firmly protected him and a group of terrified Joseon officials in the safest and most controlled position in the center of the formation.

At the same moment, veteran gunner Wang Er, along with his artillery crew of seven or eight strong men, chanted slogans, their veins bulging, as they desperately pushed a brand-new "1,000-jin bronze cannon" behind the earthen ramparts set up in front of the battle line.

This cannon was among the first batches produced by the Beijing Garrison Cannon Factory, overseen by Sun Yuanhua, a senior official in the Ministry of Works. It was extremely valuable. The cannon barrel was cast in bronze, smooth to the touch, and gleamed with a dark golden luster. Its design was completely modeled after the Hongyi Cannon, and it was made with guidance from the foreign gentleman Johann Adam Schall von Bell. It was scaled down to about two-thirds of its original size, and although it looked exquisite, its power was not to be underestimated.

What's most eye-catching isn't the bronze cannon itself, but rather the extraordinary cannon carriage beneath it.

The gun carriage was an extremely sturdy wooden bed frame, made of hard and heavy elm wood, with key parts reinforced and riveted with iron bars. The two wheels were exceptionally tall, almost reaching a person's chest, with thick spokes and thick iron plates nailed to the rims, clearly designed to be dragged across the fields without fear of potholes and bumps.

The cannon barrel was mounted in the bed frame, with two thick cannon ears extending from both sides, which fit perfectly into the grooves on both sides of the bed frame. These are called "trunnions," which allow the muzzle to be easily raised and lowered. This was the standard configuration for new cannons from the West and the Beijing Garrison, much more efficient than the old cannons.

At the rear of the gun carriage, below a strange, massive iron screw, ended in a heavy wooden shoulder. Before firing, two burly soldiers had to use a long pry bar inserted into a hole at the head of the screw and turn it vigorously until the shoulder was firmly embedded in the ground. This method, while not making the cannon retract on its own, did allow the heavy cannon to recoil less and more steadily.

To turn the cannon's muzzle left or right, there were no shortcuts; it relied on a hardwood crowbar that was always kept beside the gun carriage. It took three or four men to insert the crowbar head into the leverage point under the breech or the main carriage, and with a collective effort, they would move the cannon and carriage by the slightest effort. Although it was laborious, the gun carriage was well-made and rounded, making it much easier than the old ones.

The rear of the gun carriage was specially fitted with a pair of retractable support legs. These legs could be folded up during marches and sank into the ground when the gun was deployed, making the heavy machine more stable and preventing it from tipping over when firing.

Wang Er, ignoring his sweat, stomped the supporting leg into the ground to tamp it down, then hurriedly ordered someone to tighten the bolt on the shoulder. He was already hoarsely shouting, "Quick! Anti-tank powder! Solid shot! Grenade launcher! Get it done! Those Tartars are almost here!"

Wang Er and the artillerymen of the Beijing garrison practiced day and night with Johann Adam Schall von Bell for two whole months to master these six new guns. Today, they were going to let the Jurchens have a taste of their newfound power right here on the banks of the Han River.

Most of the dozens of Ming army spearmen responsible for covering the rear escaped unscathed. Zhao Sheng pushed the slightly wounded Li Gou'er behind a supply wagon and let him treat his wounds himself. He then led the spearmen to line up at the gap in the wagon formation.

He could clearly hear the sound of the river flowing not far behind him, and he could also see the Eight Banners demons who were killing and looting wantonly on the plains in front of him. He could also see the Korean civilians who were being chased and fled in all directions being caught or killed by them.

Now, there's no turning back; we have no choice but to fight to the death.

Kim Sung-hwan escorted the king's carriage back to the riverbank. His palms, gripping the knife, were drenched in cold sweat, his eyes fixed on the rising dust ahead. He could hear suppressed sobs from Yi Jong in the carriage behind him, the terrified whispers of several Joseon ministers, and even the occasional chattering of teeth. These usually high-ranking "adults" were now no different from the frightened commoners, completely at a loss for their own judgment.

However, in stark contrast to the despair and fear surrounding him were the Ming soldiers. Though their faces were tense and they were drenched in sweat, they silently and swiftly carried out orders at the officers' short, forceful commands. Digging trenches, pushing carts, setting up shields—everything was done methodically. Their composure in the face of danger inexplicably calmed Jin Chenghuan's wildly beating heart. Especially when he saw the six enormous bronze cannons, gleaming with a dark golden light, being laboriously but steadily placed in their designated positions at the front of the battle line by the Ming gunners shouting commands, a glimmer of hope arose within him—perhaps, with the river and these powerful weapons, they could truly hold out!

Meanwhile, in the Later Jin army, Mangultai, the banner chief of the Plain Blue Banner, arrived at the front line surrounded by a group of Bayara. Leng Sengji, the former Jiala Ejen who had led three hundred vanguard troops in a bloodbath against the rear guard of the Joseon army, immediately rode forward and respectfully reported: "Your Highness! This servant has ascertained that the chariot formation ahead is indeed protecting the royal carriage of King Injo of Joseon! The Ming army escorting the carriage numbers several thousand, and judging from their appearance, they should be the so-called imperial guards of the Ming Dynasty!"

"Oh? Li Zong's chariots?" A hint of surprise flashed across Mangultai's rugged face. "The Ming army arrived quickly this time!" He narrowed his eyes, carefully examining the Ming army's chariot formation deployed along the river in the distance. Seeing that it was backed by the river, its formation was impeccable, and several very large cannons could be vaguely seen; it was certainly not an easy opponent. He pondered for a moment, the playful look on his face disappearing, replaced by caution in the face of a powerful enemy.

"Give the order!" Mangultai cracked his whip. "Tell the men not to rush in. Have the auxiliary troops and the 'ha' forage on the spot and build me as many shield wagons as possible!" He paused, then continued, "The main force rests here, eats some dry rations, and recovers its strength. In an hour, raze that wagon formation to the ground—" A greedy glint flashed in his eyes, "...capture Li Zong alive!"

Nearly an hour had passed, the river wind carrying the smell of gunpowder and blood, yet it couldn't dispel the agonizing tension that permeated the battle. Every moment felt like being fried in a pan of oil.

Finally, a dark mass surged up on the horizon. It wasn't shield carts, but tens of thousands of driven Korean civilians! They cried and staggered, their spines pressed tightly against the spines of the Later Jin soldiers with swords and spears, rushing madly towards the Ming army's wagon formation.

"Loose the arrows! Open fire! Don't come any closer!" The orders from the front lines fell coldly. Mercy is no weapon in war! Besides, those were just Koreans.
Most of the soldiers in the royal guard were veterans of the frontier army, long since indifferent to life and death. Upon receiving the order, they drew their bows and fired their muskets without hesitation. The muskets rang out with a series of loud bangs, and arrows whizzed from the bowstrings! The Korean civilians at the forefront fell in droves like stalks of wheat swept by a sickle, their screams instantly drowning out their previous wails.

Before long, smoke filled the front lines, choking everyone and making them uncomfortable. The gun barrels were so hot from firing that they were hard to hold, and the pace of shooting involuntarily slowed down. The density of arrows also noticeably decreased.

Behind the right flank of the wagon formation, Li Gou'er, who was fighting for the first time, gripped his spear tightly, his knuckles turning white. Watching the Koreans being cut down like weeds, his face was frighteningly pale, his lips tightly pursed, and his stomach was churning.

On the earthen slope, Mangultai's lips curled into a cold smile. This was exactly what he wanted—the exhaustion of the Ming army's firepower and their physical exhaustion.

"Shield carts, push them up! Cavalry, get ready!" He waved his hand sharply.

Hidden behind the crowd, a dozen or so cumbersome shield carts were pushed forward with all their might, accelerating suddenly and slamming into the Ming army's lines! The real Later Jin heavy infantrymen were crammed behind the shield carts like tin cans. Further back, the Eight Banners cavalry, which had been poised for battle, began to gradually increase their speed, their hooves rolling like muffled thunder.

at this time
"Release!" Wang Er's hoarse roar was instantly swallowed up by the huge roar.

boom! boom! boom!
The six "one-thousand-jin bronze cannons" in the Ming army finally roared! The heavy solid iron balls (about four and a half Ming jin) slammed into the shield cart formation a mile away with a deathly shriek!

A stray iron ball struck a shield cart by sheer luck. The wooden shield shattered with a deafening roar, sending splinters of wood and broken limbs flying everywhere, accompanied by agonizing screams. The debris swept away a large number of the Korean laborers pushing the cart and the auxiliary soldiers following behind!

Even more deadly were those that missed! The iron balls slammed into the ground, tearing up large chunks of mud, then bounced back up to chest height, skimming the earth as they hurtled away! These deadly ricochets, like invisible scythes, cruelly plowed through the ranks of the Later Jin army. Limbs and mangled bodies flew everywhere, blood spraying continuously, leaving behind trails of blood and gore in their wake!

The Eight Banner soldiers behind the shield carts instantly fell into chaos, each instinctively trying to avoid this unseen yet unstoppable killing machine. The cavalry following behind also involuntarily tightened their reins, their warhorses neighing in terror as the riders struggled to control themselves, daring not to get too close to this terrifying killing zone.

Mangultai's brows furrowed. The Ming dogs...did they really bring the Red Barbarian cannons? Those things are incredibly heavy, how could they possibly drag them?
He immediately changed his orders: "Scatter! Spread out the cavalry! Avoid the center, circle around along the riverbank, and attack their right flank!"

He noticed that the Ming army's right flank, near the Han River, lacked the Hongyi cannons. And since Hongyi cannons were difficult to move, once positioned on the battlefield, they were essentially inactive; simply avoid them. The command flag was waved swiftly. The Plain Blue Banner's cavalry immediately dispersed, moving with perfect coordination. A cavalry force bypassed the horrific carnage in the center, advancing along the riverbank towards the right flank of the Ming army's wagon formation—the area guarded by Zhao Sheng and Li Gou'er. The pressure suddenly increased!

Almost simultaneously, Wang Er received new orders: "The right flank is under pressure! Quick! Load these three cannons with shotguns and drag them to the right flank!"

"Understood!" Wang Er replied in a hoarse voice, ignoring the scorching heat of the cannon barrel, and roared to his men, "Remove the hooks! Clean the breech! Hook the tractors! Hurry! Get it done!"

The billowing smoke provided excellent cover. The artillery crew worked with remarkable speed and agility, braving the stray arrows, swiftly dragging the bronze cannons, which had only fired a few rounds, from their positions. Several packhorses were brought in and harnessed. Shouting in unison, the soldiers pushed and pulled, painstakingly moving these three incredibly heavy machines to the right flank. The nimbleness of the new gun carriages was fully displayed at this moment.

If it were a cannon from the Red Barbarians, it would be impossible to move it.

The Ming army's right flank was formed by the Crescent Moon Formation.

Leng Sengji drew his saber and swung it forward with a fierce roar, letting out a beast-like howl: "Kill all the southern barbarians! Crush their chariot formation!"

More than three hundred elite cavalrymen from the Plain Blue Banner simultaneously spurred their warhorses forward, charging towards the right flank of the Ming army like a flood bursting its banks! Their iron hooves pounded wildly, kicking up clouds of grass and dust, the heavy hoofbeats like muffled thunder rumbling across the ground, sending shivers down one's spine.

Behind the Ming army's defensive line, Zhao Sheng and Li Gou'er gripped their spears tightly, their palms drenched in cold sweat. Facing such a frenzied cavalry charge, the overwhelming pressure was almost suffocating. They could clearly see the Tartar cavalrymen's狰狞 (zhengning - ferocious/hideous) faces and their wildly waving, gleaming sabers; the aura of death was palpable.

Before the Jurchen cavalry could charge forward, the Ming army's right flank infantry line began to waver slightly.

At this critical moment, a Ming cavalry unit arrived like a whirlwind! It was Huang Degong himself leading two hundred elite cavalry to reinforce them. They quickly deployed into a charging formation to the flank and rear of the infantry, their warhorses pawing restlessly and belching thick white smoke. But Huang Degong did not immediately lead his troops in the charge. His bloodshot eyes were not fixed on the charging enemy, but anxiously glanced to his flank and front—at the three cannons, faintly visible in the smoke!
He was waiting, waiting for the perfect opportunity to deliver the decisive blow!
Leng Sengji took the lead, leading his cavalry in a whirlwind charge. One hundred and fifty paces... one hundred paces... eighty paces! This distance was covered in a single gallop! He could already see the terrified looks in the eyes of the Ming soldiers opposite him.

In that life-or-death moment—

"Fire!" The gunner Wang Er's hoarse roar drowned out all the noise!
boom! boom! boom!
The three cannons, already fully charged, roared once more! This time, what spewed forth were not solid lumps of iron, but a storm of deadly metal! Hundreds of lead bullets, enveloped in scorching gunpowder fumes, rained down on the charging Eight Banners cavalry in three enormous fan-shaped formations!
This was nothing like the scattered bullets they had seen before! This was a real, deadly rain of scorching iron!

In an instant, the shouts of men and the neighing of horses turned into agonizing screams of ghosts and wolves! The cavalrymen at the forefront, along with their horses, were struck as if by an invisible giant hammer, instantly exploding into clouds of blood mist! The warhorses writhed and collapsed, their riders tossed through the air like tattered sacks. Leng Sengji felt his beloved steed shudder violently, let out a mournful neigh, and kneel forward. The immense momentum hurled him away, slamming him heavily onto the filthy ground, a mixture of blood and mud.

The Manchu warrior was thrown about, dazed and confused, his ears ringing. He struggled to lift his head, and the sight before him horrified him: his once vigorous and elite cavalry were now lying in disarray. Wounded but not yet dead warhorses and soldiers writhed and howled in agony in pools of blood; severed limbs were scattered everywhere, and the entire charging formation had been utterly shattered and torn apart by these three storms of steel!

However, the ferocity of these battle-hardened veterans was on full display at this moment. Some of the Later Jin soldiers who were not directly hit by the shrapnel or whose injuries were not serious, after a brief moment of confusion and fear, had their inherent fighting spirit ignited. They either quickly sought cover (fallen warhorses, craters in the ground) or simply lay prone on the ground, took the heavy bows from their backs, and attempted to retaliate with their most proficient archery skills!
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!" More than a dozen heavy arrows, accompanied by a shrill whistle, emerged from the smoke and chaos and plunged into the Ming army's wagon formation!
"Raise the sign! Protect the gunner!" the officer roared hoarsely.

The dedicated swordsmen and shield bearers in the formation immediately rushed forward, pressing their rattan shields firmly against the gaps in the wagon formation! An arrow pierced deeply into a shield with a "thud," the soldier holding it feeling numb in his arm from the impact, but he gritted his teeth and held on. Another arrow shot into the gaps in the wagon formation from a tricky angle, and a Ming musketeer who was busy loading his gun groaned as he was hit in the shoulder, staggering back a step before being quickly dragged to the back by his comrades.

"Archers!" From behind the wagon formation, the platoon leader in charge of the right flank's firepower roared like thunder, drowning out all other noise. "Forty paces ahead! Fire freely to eliminate the remaining enemy!"

At the command, the musketeers, who had been preparing for some time, immediately poked their gun barrels out from the gaps between the wagons and shields. Although they were also pale with fright at the horrific scene and the incoming arrows, months of rigorous training came in handy. Loading, tamping, lighting the matchlock, aiming—a series of actions were completed under the drive of muscle memory.

"Bang bang bang! Bang bang bang!"

A burst of gunfire, though uneven, was unusually rapid and deafening! White smoke billowed up again. Bullets rained down on the remaining Later Jin soldiers who were still trying to put up a fight, like locusts.

A Jin soldier who had just drawn his bow suddenly coughed up a spray of blood from his chest and fell backward without a sound. Another armored soldier, who was trying to drag his wounded comrade away, was struck by several lead bullets at the same time and rolled to the ground with a scream. Perhaps due to the distance, the killing effect was not ideal, and most of the bullets missed their mark.

"Pikemen, swordsmen and shieldmen! Move forward to provide cover!" A battalion commander seized the opportunity and shouted again, "Gunners, follow up and fire at close range!"

Upon receiving the order, Zhao Sheng, Li Gou'er, and other pikemen immediately coordinated with the swordsmen and shieldmen, forming a mobile shield wall of dozens of men. They resolutely advanced more than ten paces through the gap in the wagon formation. The musketeers followed closely behind, using the cover of their comrades in front and the fallen warhorses and enemy corpses on the ground as new cover, and began to reload their muskets again in a tense and rapid manner.

This bold advance instantly extended the edge of firepower to the faces of the still struggling Later Jin soldiers!

The roar of muskets and sporadic, defiant arrow exchanges formed a brief but intense interlude between the two devastating artillery bombardments. The Ming army, with its proactive offensive and dense firepower, firmly suppressed and annihilated the remaining enemy forces.

Leng Sengji staggered to his feet and was met with this despairing scene: the Ming army's firearms bombarded him wave after wave, yet the infantry dared to launch counterattacks! They were given absolutely no chance to catch their breath or regroup!
Before he could even recover from this terrible, relentless onslaught—

boom! boom! boom!
Once again, a deadly roar came from ahead!
The Ming army's artillerymen moved with terrifying speed. Under Wang Er's shouts and urging, they actually completed the second reload! The second round of shrapnel storm roared down again! This time, the shells mainly hit the most densely packed group of wounded but not dead Later Jin soldiers who were gathered together trying to retreat.

This second wave of deadly iron rain was the final straw that broke the camel's back. Those Later Jin soldiers who had been instinctively firing arrows or trying to regroup finally collapsed completely. The survivors cried out, casting aside all pretense of "the Eight Banners' armor is invincible" and "the glory of the Baturu," turning their horses around or even running on foot, only thinking of escaping this death-devouring land! At this moment, they finally understood how laughable and insignificant individual bravery was in the face of such ferocious and continuous firepower!

"Archers! All forward! Form teams freely and fire freely!"

The arquebusiers who had advanced to the front lines quickly dispersed upon hearing the order, forming loose firing groups in twos and threes. They pursued the retreating soldiers who had completely collapsed and were only concerned with escaping, and carried out a final round of rapid and deadly free fire.

"Bang!" "Bang!" "Bang!"

The gunfire grew more chaotic and deadly, like a hunter precisely striking down fleeing prey. Lead bullets caught up with the fleeing routs from behind, mowing down another swathe. This volley of fire completely shattered the last vestiges of resistance in the Jurchens, leaving only the purest, most desperate fear of escape.

Leng Sengji didn't even have time to find a single stray warhorse. A new recruit, later referred to in the records only as Zhang Desheng, was frantically hacking and slashing with the main force. He caught sight of a fallen Tartar officer on the ground, dressed in very distinguished attire. Without a second thought, he spurred his horse over, and using the momentum of his horse, swung his gleaming saber down with a fierce slash!

Leng Sengji, a famous Baturu of the Later Jin Plain Blue Banner, may have imagined a thousand different ways to die a heroic death, but he never expected his end to be like this—on a chaotic afternoon, on an unnamed riverbank, his head was chopped off by an unnamed soldier as easily as chopping firewood.

The last thing he saw was a few still-smoking cannons and a sky stained crimson with the smoke of cannon fire.
(End of this chapter)