How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 129 Our forces triumphantly advance to Ganghwa Island, the Tartar troops retreat to Seoul in defeat! (First Update)
Mangultai's face turned ashen.

He looked at the chaotic riverbank and saw the headless corpse of his most valiant warrior, Baturu Leng Sengji, being retrieved by his personal guards and laid out on the ground.

That beautiful blue cotton armor is now covered in mud and blood.

“My lord… Your Highness…” A fendeboshiku knelt on the ground, his voice trembling, “The brothers who charged forward… more than seventy riders were lost, and many more were wounded… those Ming dogs’ cannons are so vicious! They didn’t fire solid bullets, but a rain of iron bullets, we couldn’t stop them!”

Mangultai didn't speak, his jaw muscles clenched so tightly they were bulging. More than seventy riders, all dead, and nearly a hundred warriors who followed the shield carts to attack the Ming army's front were also killed or wounded. So, including the dead and wounded, the entire Niulu was wiped out just like that?
That's a pretty big loss!

He looked up at the Ming army's chariot formation in the distance.

The fortifications remained firmly in place, like a huddled-up iron hedgehog. The smoke from the battle hadn't yet dissipated, and several dark cannon muzzles could be vaguely seen pointing in their direction.

The river breeze carried a heavy stench of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder.

For the first time, his warriors didn't roar and rush forward to avenge him; instead, they became somewhat restless. Their warhorses stamped their hooves uneasily.

Hard charge?

Mangultai was quickly calculating in his mind.

Charging forward might allow them to break through. But how many brave young men of the Plain Blue Banner would they have to sacrifice? All for a terrified Korean king?

He glanced behind him.

The procession was a dense mass of Korean civilians, just driven there and now prisoners, numbering probably in the tens of thousands. The Seoul treasury must have a good amount of money to be made. Even if not, they could still squeeze some from the Korean civilians.

I've already made enough money from this trip.

It's not worth losing your life savings just to spite someone.

"Hmph." He snorted coldly, as if exhaling a pent-up anger. "Those southern barbarians are just relying on a few lousy cannons, hiding in their turtle shells and showing off their strength!"

He suddenly waved his hand: "Withdraw! Take our men and our spoils, and return victorious to Hancheng!"

"Tell my men, this battle is not over! Let those southern barbarians live a few more days!"

The bugle call sounded mournfully, no longer signaling the fervor of an attack, but rather an order to retreat.

The Later Jin army began to move. They escorted the weeping Korean prisoners and collected the bodies of their comrades, like a receding blue iron tide, slowly retreating towards Seoul.

The formation remained vigilant, demonstrating the discipline of a strong military.

But that indomitable spirit eventually dissipated.

……

A deathly silence remained for a moment within the Ming army's chariot formation.

Once they confirmed that the Tartar soldiers had truly retreated far enough to a safe distance, they showed no intention of returning.

Someone gasped for breath first.

Immediately afterwards, a huge cheer of relief erupted, almost lifting the sky above the river!
"We've won! The Tartars have retreated!"

"We won! Hahaha!"

The soldiers dropped their weapons and collapsed to the ground, only to find their limbs as limp as noodles. Some laughed, then burst into tears. Many more touched their intact bodies, their faces filled with disbelief.

Zhao Sheng leaned on his spear, his throat parched. He kicked Li Ergou, who was still standing there in a daze, and yelled, "Coward! If you're not dead, make a sound!"

Li Ergou exclaimed "Ah!" and touched the arrow wound on his chest (because his armor was good, it only broke the skin a little). He then looked at the dust raised by the retreating Tartars in the distance and grinned foolishly: "Boss...we, we think we won?"

"Let's drop the 'seems'!" Zhao Sheng laughed, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "We won! Damn, that was really tough!"

At the gun emplacement, Wang Er and his men, too busy with their cheers to bother, were using brushes dipped in water to cool down the scorching hot gun barrels.

White vapor filled the air, mixed with the smell of gunpowder.

A young gunner stared at the cannon muzzle and muttered, "Second Brother, this big thing... it's really powerful!"

Wang Er wiped the soot and sweat from his face: "Nonsense! This is a fine product made under the guidance of the Emperor and Master Tang! Hurry up and get it done! Who knows if the Tartars will come again!"

Although he was cursing, he couldn't hide the smugness in his eyes and brows—the biggest contributors to this battle were these cannons!

……

On the earthen slope, Yang Sichang felt a cramp in his calf.

He quietly steadied himself by touching the shoulder of the guard beside him.

Yang Hao took a half step closer, his voice extremely low, with a barely perceptible tremor: "Weak and frail... Thank goodness, thank goodness... The Tartars, the Tartar army has been defeated and retreated to Hancheng!"

The army was defeated and retreated to Seoul!

The victorious side, however, will have to move on to Ganghwa Island.
Yang Sichang took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, trying to make his voice sound less ashamed: "Mr. Jingfu is right. Thanks to His Majesty's great fortune and the soldiers' bravery... we are fortunate to have lived up to His Majesty's grace."

The two looked at each other and saw the same thing in each other's eyes—lingering fear.

They are much smarter than soldiers.

The victory was due to the advantage of the terrain and the river, which prevented the Tartar cavalry from charging.

Furthermore, they relied on those unprecedented bronze cannons that could fire shotgun shells and be dragged along, catching the Tartars completely off guard.

If it were a battle on a plain, and if the Tartars came prepared…

Yang Sichang dared not think any further.

"Collect the casualties and take stock of the spoils of war. Strengthen the camp's defenses and be wary of the enemy cavalry returning!" he ordered in a deep voice, his tone regaining the authority of an imperial envoy.

"Order!"

……

Military generals such as Huang Degong and Li Changgen were not idle.

They patrolled the front lines with their personal guards.

Looking at the corpses of the Tartar soldiers riddled with shrapnel, and at their own brothers felled by Tartar arrows in front of them, the men's faces turned grave.

“That son of a bitch, he’s really fierce.” Li Changgen spat. “If it weren’t for this cannon…” Huang Degong nodded and nudged the corpse of a Plain Blue Banner soldier on the ground with the tip of his knife: “No matter how fierce he is, he’s still made of flesh and blood. Bullets and cannonballs will still pierce through him!”

He turned to the officers and sergeants following him and said, "Did you all see that clearly? The Tartars aren't minions under the King of Hell, invulnerable to swords and spears! Our formation must be stable! Our firearms must be powerful! Our spears must be able to withstand the attacks! Add our new cannons, and we can beat those sons of bitches to a pulp!"

"The artillery deserves the most credit for today's battle! Go back and tell all the young soldiers that they must train even harder than before! The coordination between the artillery battalion and the infantry and cavalry is the key to survival and merit!"

"Understood!" The officers clasped their hands in greeting, their faces beaming with the confidence of victory after a bloody battle.

This battle showed them something different: a truly powerful weapon capable of annihilating the Jianzhou Tartars!

……

Compared to the hustle and bustle of the Ming army, the area around the Joseon king's carriage was eerily silent.

Li Zong slumped in the carriage, his fingers digging into the brocade cushion beneath him.

The cheers outside felt like needles pricking his ears.

Won?

The heavenly army won.

But why can't he be happy at all?
Before his eyes always flickered the desperate faces of his people, abandoned in the rear and slaughtered. In his ears echoed their agonizing screams as they were struck by arrows and felled by sabers.

Now, these people have become prisoners of the Tartars, bound by ropes, heading towards a dark and hopeless future.

And he, the ruler of a nation, had to abandon his people to save his own life.

"Pfft..." Li Zong felt a sweet taste in his throat and actually vomited a small mouthful of blood, which splattered on his bright yellow robe, a shocking sight.

He closed his eyes helplessly.

“Your Majesty…” came the hoarse voice of Chief Councilor Li Yuanyi from outside the carriage, his voice trembling with sobs.

Li Zong didn't want to respond, nor did he have the face to do so.

The other Korean ministers also stood there, dejected. Some secretly wiped away tears, while others looked ashen-faced.

The taste of "victory" is so bitter and humiliating.

Kim Sung-hwan stood beside the carriage, knife in hand. His loyalty was beyond question, but at this moment, his heart was filled with confusion.

He protected the king, but what about Joseon?
Aren't those who have been abandoned the king's own people?

Were those Ming Dynasty imperial soldiers, who swaggered around and determined their lives and deaths, really there to save Korea?

He looked at the cheering Ming soldiers, his eyes filled with complex emotions. There was gratitude, but more than that, there was a chilling fear and alienation.

Park Soon-chang, dragging his injured leg, finally staggered and caught up with the group. He hid behind a wrecked car, too afraid to approach.

He looked at the deathly silence of the royal carriage, then at the jubilation of the Ming army.

His heart was ice-cold.

The ruler is incompetent and cannot protect the people.

The father country is cruel, treating them like dirt.

Where does North Korea's path lead? Is survival solely determined by being led around like livestock, on a rope?

……

"The ship! It's our ship!"

In the afternoon, the lookout suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs.

The crowd looked in the direction of the sound and saw a line of sails appearing on the lower reaches of the Han River.

It's getting bigger and clearer.

On the lead ship, a large Fujian-style boat, a flag with the character "Huang" (yellow) fluttered high.

General Huang Long, commander of Dengzhou and Laizhou, finally arrived with his naval fleet.

This section of the waterway was really difficult to navigate. Although the river was quite wide, there were hidden reefs underwater. Fortunately, Yang Hao was experienced and immediately sent Huang Long to find an old sailor on the Nanyang bank to guide them. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to get here so quickly.

Boats of all sizes struggled against the current, approaching the riverbank where a bloody battle had just taken place.

Yang Sichang and Yang Hao both breathed a sigh of relief, straightened their clothes, and stepped forward to meet with the general sent by the navy.

"By imperial decree, General Huang Longbu of Dengzhou and Laizhou has come to receive Imperial Envoy Yang and the King of Joseon's entourage as they move to Ganghwa Island!"

Seeing the towering warships, the Ming soldiers felt more at ease. A glimmer of life finally appeared on the numb faces of the Joseon king and his officials—at least they could leave this place of sorrow.

The boarding process was silent and oppressive.

The Ming soldiers helped the wounded, gathered their equipment, and boarded the ship in an orderly manner.

The Korean royal family and officials, like a group of soulless puppets, were "protected" by the royal guards as they stepped onto the springboard.

Yang Sichang and Yang Hao were the last to board the ship.

They stood at the bow of the boat, looking back at the ravaged riverbank and towards Seoul.

The setting sun was dyeing the sky and the river a blood red.

“Mr. Jingfu,” Yang Sichang said slowly, “this first step in preserving Korea has finally been… albeit stumbling and falling, accomplished.”

Yang Hao's white eyebrows twitched slightly: "Is it done? I'm afraid... this is just the beginning."

The two were silent.

The fleet hoisted its sails and slowly sailed away from the riverbank, heading towards Ganghwa Island downstream.

They left their newly acquired "victory," along with the endless humiliation and sorrow of North Korea, on that blood-soaked riverbank.

The road ahead is like the river surface dyed red by the setting sun; it looks wide, but undercurrents are surging and the future is uncertain.

(End of this chapter)