Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

Guerrilla General Wang Jing rode out of the enemy lines.

This man was a valiant general of the capital garrison, eight feet tall and as imposing as an iron tower. His roar ripped through the night.

"Stone bandit! His Majesty knew all along that you were all bark and no bite, and that you would flee like a rat in Bahana! To let you escape north? Wishful thinking!"

He pointed his halberd at the trapped enemy formation before him.

"This road leads straight to the gates of hell! His Majesty has long prepared this 'fan-shaped trap' for you!"

This was precisely the killing move Zhu Cilang had laid out.

The young emperor stood atop the city wall of Linyi, the night breeze ruffling the hem of his dragon robe.

He stood expressionless, overlooking the slaughterhouse he had personally designed below the city.

The "fan-shaped trap" radiates outward in a huge arc from the north gate of Linyi City, covering the route the Qing army was most likely to take when it fled.

The trap consisted of countless pits of varying depths, some of which had sharpened bamboo poles inserted into the bottom and covered with loose soil for camouflage.

Once a person or horse steps in, they will immediately fall into the pit and be pierced by bamboo spikes, resulting in either death or serious injury.

The entire trap was like an open fan-shaped pocket, waiting for fleeing soldiers to fall into its clutches.

Before Wang Jing could finish speaking, the Ming troops on both sides had already closed in like an iron gate.

Spears lined the front, followed closely by muskets and crossbows, while swords and spears reflected the flickering firelight as they charged straight at the Jurchen troops.

The Ming army on both sides pressed forward step by step, and flames suddenly rose and shouts of battle shook the sky from behind. In addition, two other Ming armies came to encircle them, and the four armies were now in a state of encirclement.

In the Qing army formation, Shi Tingzhu reined in his horse and stopped, his face grim.

He shouted the order:

"The vanguard will scout the enemy lines in three groups, while the guards will form a circular formation according to their flags!"

However, before the formation could be stabilized, another group of Qing cavalry attempted to break out from the flank.

As soon as the horses accelerated, several riders collapsed onto the loose soil and fell into the deep pit. The riders and horses fell over, and their screams were swallowed up by the chaotic army.

"Whoosh whoosh-!"

Ming army arrows rained down like a sudden storm, and Qing knights were hit by arrows and fell from their horses, their cries of pain echoing across the land.

Seeing that the cavalry's advantage had vanished, Shi Tingzhu's eyes turned bloodshot, and he pounded his saddle and roared:

"Dismount! Pull the reins over the ditch!"

The terrain was riddled with potholes, making it difficult for the warhorses to run. The Qing soldiers had no choice but to dismount and stumble forward, their feet sinking into the deep pits.

This affected their marching speed, which was exactly what Zhu Cilang wanted.

The vanguard of the Qing troops had barely managed to escape the edge of the pit, and were just reaching out to grab their panicked, scattered horses—

In an instant, the sound of hooves thundered out from the darkness ahead!

The Ming army's iron cavalry, wielding long spears, swept in like a black cloud that could destroy a city.

The Qing soldier, who had just escaped, staggered and raised his knife, only to have his throat pierced by a spear in the blink of an eye, blood spurting out.

At this moment, the remnants of the Jurchen army were completely trapped like beasts in a net.

Amidst the smoke and fire, severed limbs shattered under iron hooves, the mournful cries of warhorses, the clashing of swords, and the cracking of bones mingling together.

Shi Tingzhu's face was ashen as he brandished his sword and roared:

"Kill! Fight your way out!"

"Whoever breaches the Ming army's lines will be rewarded with a red-topped silver armor!"

Erkh was covered in blood, and several arrows trembled and remained embedded in his armor.

Yet he still desperately protected Shi Tingzhu, hacking and slashing like a mad tiger, roaring as he brandished his sword:

"Master, let's go quickly!"

"My family has been honored by the Guarjia clan for three generations by being elevated to a higher banner; today I will repay that debt with my life!"

Before he finished speaking, three earth-shattering cannon shots suddenly rang out from the Ming army's ranks!

Bang!Bang!Bang!

As the cannon fired, a gap appeared in the dense forest of Xuanjia elite cavalry, and a black, lightning-fast figure darted out from within!

It was none other than "Iron Spear Zhang" Zhang Wu!

He flicked the twelve-foot-long steel spear in his hand, the tip flashing with a cold light, tearing through the air with a sharp sound, and his fierce shout resounded across the surrounding area:

"Tartar! Today is your death day!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the tip of his spear was aimed directly at Shi Tingzhu.

Erhe leaped forward, wielding his sword to parry. Blades and spear tips clashed, sparks flying.

After exchanging blows several times, Erhe was wounded and his strength was waning.

Zhang Wu's spear technique suddenly changed, like a venomous snake spitting its tongue, and with one spear thrust, he pierced through the man's shoulder armor!

Blood gushed out, and Erkh groaned, blood spilling from his teeth. He swayed but did not retreat an inch, still standing firmly in front of his commander's horse.

"You southern barbarians! Just because you outnumber them doesn't make you heroes!"

He suddenly looked up, his eyes burning with a final madness, his voice hoarse and piercing:

"The blood of the Eight Banners warriors soaked the black soil, their souls returned to the Changbai Mountains—one day, their iron hooves will surely trample the Southern Dynasty!"

Before the last "朝" character had even landed, the iron spear had already pierced through the air again, piercing through the chest armor with a soft thud, and the spear tip emerged from the back.

Erkh's body trembled violently, spitting out a mouthful of blood. With his last breath, he turned his head and roared:

"Master... run!!"

He immediately collapsed to the ground, his blood staining the scorched earth.

Shi Tingzhu's eyes were bloodshot, and only half of the red-inlaid flag remained.

Several bondservants suddenly sprang up from the pile of corpses and charged forward, with one old servant leading the charge, his own flesh and blood aimed straight at Zhang Wu.

His hands were already bare bone from being sliced ​​open by the gun blade, yet he still screamed hoarsely:

"My lord, mount your horse! This old servant will put a stirrup for you!"

Zhang Wu flew into a rage, and with a burst of strength, he yanked back, the sound of flesh tearing clearly audible.

The old servant's ten fingers were almost scraped off by the steel blade, but he still held on tightly.

Zhang Wu roared and kicked the old servant hard in the chest. The old servant spat out a mouthful of blood and flew backward, but still managed to curl up his mangled body and crawl back up to hold onto Zhang Wu's boots tightly.

At the same time, several other bondservant soldiers threw themselves into Shi Tingzhu's horse.

Puff puff!

The sound of an arrow penetrating flesh!

The first man was instantly riddled with arrows, and the others were also hit by arrows one after another, but they managed to build a temporary barrier with their bodies, desperately blocking the pursuers.

Under the cover of this human wall of flesh and blood, Shi Tingzhu led the remaining Red-Clad Iron Cavalry to finally break through a bloody path.

After galloping for several miles, he suddenly reined in his horse and looked back—

The tattered red-edged flag was still billowing in the sea of ​​fire.

Shi Tingzhu's eyes blazed with rage. He ripped off his throat guard, threw it to the ground, and swore an oath to the heavens:

"Warriors of the Aisin Gioro family, listen carefully!"

"The blood debt of this battle must be repaid with the lives of the entire city of Dezhou, and the heads of 100,000 southern barbarians will be used as a sacrifice to the heavens!"

A faint horn blast drifted through the night wind, and he roared to the sky before spurring his horse into the darkness.

......

As night faded, it was then tinged with the golden-red of dawn.

In the sweltering heat of June, as dawn breaks.

The smoke from last night's battle has not yet dissipated.

Zhu Cilang, clad in a golden dragon-patterned battle robe and with a sword at his waist, rode slowly.

The generals and eunuchs Han Zanzhou and Li Chengfang followed closely behind.

Beneath his feet lay tattered armor and broken weapons, and the lingering smell of blood still hung in the air.

His gaze swept across the battlefield, his silence carrying a hint of sternness.

The Ming army's banners fluttered in the morning breeze as soldiers cleared the battlefield.

Occasionally, a few hysterical roars could be heard; those were the 823 captured Jianzhou prisoners making their last struggle in despair.

Several Ming soldiers escorted two staggering figures over; they were Fang Dayou and Wang Aoyong, surrendered officials of the Ming Dynasty.

A Ming soldier mocked:

"Last night, when your master, the Stone Thief, fled in panic, how come—you two were forgotten to be taken along?"

A burst of laughter erupted from all around.

The two men were ashen-faced, their eyes vacant, and they staggered like stray dogs.

Zhu Cilang rode past the two men with a calm expression.

A horse's hoof trampled over a tattered document, the vermilion seal on which read "The Regent's Edict for the Assimilation of Shandong" was soaked with mud.

Han Zanzhou rode his horse half a step closer, bowed, and whispered:

"Your Majesty, the list of Shandong prefectures and counties that surrendered, which was found in Fang Dayou's possession, has been seized..."

Zhu Cilang did not respond. His gaze swept over the mud-stained documents and the disheveled surrendered officials, and he simply pointed his riding whip forward.