Late Ming Dynasty: Summoning players from Liaodong to support the Ming Dynasty

For once, Hu Yongqiang didn't immediately put on that nauseating smile to agree with Turg. He squatted firmly on the ground, his pale, thin face almost pressed against the mud, a cold, shrewd glint in his eyes. He stared at the half-foot-deep ruts, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. Such deep ruts meant the weight of the supplies was unimaginable. And the footprints—scattered haphazardly, completely lacking the disciplined ranks of the Ming army, utterly chaotic.

What's most terrifying is the size of this camp; the trampling marks all over the mountains and fields could not have been made by a team of several thousand people.

Hu Yongqiang's withered chest heaved violently, his breathing becoming heavy. He stared intently at the endless, chaotic trail of footprints, his mind racing. This force must number at least tens of thousands! Outside the deep ravines and old forests of the Yanshan Mountains, apart from that group of reckless lunatics who stormed out of Guangning City, there could be no other army of this size!

He abruptly straightened up, the bulky leather armor creaking dully. His pale, thin face appeared unpredictable in the thick, greyish-white fog. His eyes, gleaming with a venomous light, quickly scanned his surroundings. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong! He knew all too well the marching discipline of the Ming army. A force of tens of thousands passing through usually left only a fleeting trace after a single night's movement. But where his gaze fell, there were countless huge, dug latrines, ashes piled half a foot thick in the stoves, and the surrounding thicker, withered trees had been completely felled. This was no ordinary scene; it couldn't have been set up so easily with a simple rest. These madmen had, in this muddy wasteland, for at least a day and a night, stubbornly maintained their camp!

Speed ​​is of the essence in war. Why should these monsters, who don't even care about their lives, linger here?

Hu Yongqiang strode forward, his leather boots slapping against the muddy, icy water. He walked straight to the edge of a mud puddle that had been trampled into a pulp. An extremely pungent, sour stench assaulted his nostrils. Beside the puddle lay a large patch of dried, blackened vomit. Ignoring the stench, Hu Yongqiang squatted down, picked up a dry twig with his pale fingers, and vigorously stirred the filth. Large chunks of undigested potato were mixed in with the yellowish-brown gastric juices. He discarded the twig and turned to look downwind. A few steps away, in the withered grass, were several spurts of black, sprayed excrement, emitting a nauseating stench in the cold wind.

"They're sick..." Hu Yongqiang's withered lips trembled slightly, and a faint but excited murmur escaped his throat. Massive, violent vomiting! Massive watery diarrhea! This was no ordinary cold! This invincible army—their logistics were in trouble!

boom! boom! boom!

Hu Yongqiang's heart pounded wildly in his chest, causing even his awkwardly tailored Later Jin armor to tremble slightly. An opportunity! This was a golden opportunity bestowed upon him by Heaven! He was terrified that if he went to see Huang Taiji empty-handed, the suspicious Khan would mistake it for a false report and have him beheaded. Amin Beile's crushing defeat, Turg's contempt, the Manchu masters' disdainful looks—all these thoughts raced through his mind.

As long as he seizes the perfect opportunity of Chu Ze's army being paralyzed, he can follow the clues to find out the true strength of these madmen. If he can set up an ambush and capture a few of those seemingly indestructible "heavenly soldiers" alive, he can bring them directly to Huang Taiji's court as living evidence! At that time, Hu the Butcher will be the most loyal hero of the Great Jin Kingdom! His position before the Khan will absolutely crush those arrogant Manchu nobles like Turge! He, Hu Yongqiang, will then be able to truly stand tall in the Great Jin Kingdom!

A chilling wind, carrying icy snow, swept across the muddy ground, whipping up a pungent, acrid stench. Wang Mazi, his thin neck hunched, darted around furtively. He stumbled closer to Hu Yongqiang, his teeth chattering, his withered fingers gripping the edge of his leather armor tightly. "Commander... Commander, this is too eerie! Let's get out of here, in case those indestructible lunatics haven't gone far and come back..."

"Go? Where do you think you're going!" Hu Yongqiang abruptly straightened up, his face contorted in the gray mist. He slapped Wang Mazi hard across the face with a backhand, his shrill voice piercing the air. Wang Mazi screamed and fell into the filthy mud pit, splashing up a cloud of foul-smelling mud. Hu Yongqiang didn't even glance at him, quickly turning around, his back instantly hunched over, a fawning smile replacing his posture, and strode towards Turgh, who stood on higher ground.

"Master!" Hu Yongqiang clasped his hands in a fist salute, his body hunched over like a ripe shrimp, his voice filled with barely suppressed fervor and greed. "Heavens above all! The opportunity for us to perform this monumental feat is truly right before our eyes!"

Turgh's heavy leather boots crushed a clod of frozen earth, a flash of impatience crossing his fleshy face. He looked down at Hu Yongqiang, puffs of white breath coming from his large nostrils: "You Han dog, stop beating around the bush! Spit it out!"

Hu Yongqiang didn't seem to care about being called a "Han dog" at all; instead, his smile became even more obsequious. He stretched out his pale, thin fingers and forcefully tapped the messy ruts and filth on the ground, his voice urgent and he was frequently out of breath: "Master, please be wise! These monsters from Guangning City, their supplies are completely paralyzed! The ground is covered in vomit and excrement, and this is no faking it! They've been stuck here for a whole day and night, and look at the depth of these footprints, they're moving with extreme difficulty, their current marching speed is even slower than a snail!"

Turgh frowned, his thick, dark eyebrows furrowing, and his large, fan-like hand pounded irritably on the hilt of his sword. "So what? Just a bunch of sicklings. Do you really think we, a few dozen men, can swallow an army of tens of thousands?"

"My lord! The Khan demands solid, irrefutable evidence!" Hu Yongqiang stamped his feet in desperation, mud splashing onto the scabbard of his Ming general's sword. He abruptly raised his head, his eyes, gleaming with venom, fixed on Turg. "Those soldiers are inhuman! Who would believe this? If we return to the Khan empty-handed, and he inquires about the army's weaponry, troop deployment, and marching formations, we'll be utterly clueless! The Khan is inherently suspicious; he'll surely conclude we deserted and lied about the situation. Then, all of our dozens of heads will be hung on the flagpole to dry!"

Turgh's hand froze in mid-air, the fleshy corner of his eye twitching violently a few times. He knew Huang Taiji's methods all too well; Hu Yongqiang's words had struck a nerve. He roughly rubbed the stiff stubble on his chin, remaining silent, only his heavy breathing echoing in the thick fog.

"We have to follow them!" Seeing Turg waver, Hu Yongqiang immediately pressed his advantage. His pale fingers gripped the sword hilt tightly, his knuckles deathly white, his molars grinding together. "Keep a safe distance behind them! These monsters are like a toothless, sick tiger now! As long as we find a gap in their encampment, we can capture a few prisoners, and even steal some of their strange firearms! We can present these living, irrefutable evidences directly to the Khan! Master, this is a monumental achievement, a chance to secure your future and rise to prominence!"

A thick gray fog swirled between the two. Turg's eyes darted around, his greed igniting a deep-seated apprehension. The Manchu Eight Banners valued military merit above all else. If he could thoroughly investigate this strange army, even providing living, irrefutable evidence, the rewards from Huang Taiji would be enough to make Turg roam freely within the Plain Yellow Banner.

"Good!" Turg slammed his hand on his thigh, shaking off the frost from his leather armor. He drew his heavy saber from his waist, the tip pointing directly at Hu Yongqiang's nose, the sharp blade reflecting a chilling light. "I'll listen to you this once, you dog slave! But listen to me carefully, if you dare to make even the slightest mistake and lead us into a dead end, I'll skin you alive with my first stroke!"

The cold blade pressed against his nose, yet Hu Yongqiang didn't even blink. He nodded repeatedly, his back bent so low it almost touched the muddy ground, his shrill voice filled with grateful fear: "This servant obeys! This servant is a loyal dog in the master's hands, and will surely carve out a piece of fat meat for the Great Jin Kingdom!"

However, the fawning vanished instantly from his pale face, which was hidden in the shadows, replaced by an extremely sinister and venomous sneer. His thin fingers dug into the hilt of his Ming Dynasty-style sword, wood chips seeping black blood from under his nails, but he was completely unaware.

Chu Ze.

Hu Yongqiang chewed on the name frantically in his heart, and the flames of resentment burned red in his eyes.

Outside Guangning City, you made me lose all face in front of these Manchu masters, reducing me to a stray dog ​​fleeing for my life. This time, your inexhaustible army of ghosts has fallen into my hands. I'll see just how arrogant you, the high and mighty garrison commander of Guangning, can still be!

Hu Yongqiang slowly straightened up. The fawning smile on his fair and thin face vanished instantly, replaced by a chilling solemnity and cunning. He turned around to face the dozens of elite soldiers of the Plain Yellow Banner and several veteran Han Banner soldiers under his command.

"Listen up, everyone!" Hu Yongqiang lowered his shrill voice, which sounded like a viper's hiss in the cold, thick fog. "The master has given the order: if this job is done well, everyone will be rewarded when we get back! But if anyone makes a sound and startles those monsters up ahead, I'll skin them alive before the master even lifts a finger!"

He stretched out his thin, bony fingers and pressed them hard against the messy tire tracks and footprints on the ground.

"Wrap all your ironware tightly in cloth! Tighten the horse's bit and tie rags to its hooves! If anyone's armor plates dare to make even the slightest scraping sound, I'll chop off their toes on the spot!" Hu Yongqiang glared fiercely at Wang Mazi. "Especially you guys, stop looking so shifty! We're not going to rob anyone, we're going to poke the tiger's ass!"

Turgh watched coldly as Hu Yongqiang issued orders. Although he was somewhat annoyed by this Han traitor's blatant abuse of power, he had to admit that these Han people were far more adept at stealth and covert tactics than their Manchu warriors. He roughly tore off a piece of rag and tightly wrapped it around the scabbard of his heavy saber, letting out a muffled groan, which was tantamount to his tacit approval of Hu Yongqiang's arrangements.

Dozens of men sprang into action. The clanging of armor was muffled by coarse cloth and tattered clothes, and the snorting of the warhorses was firmly controlled. In a very short time, the entire group completely shed its original arrogance, transforming into a group of ghosts lurking in the shadows.

"Let's go." Hu Yongqiang did not ride a horse. He held the Ming general's sword tightly to his waist, hunched over, like an old dog with an extremely keen sense of smell, and took the lead in stepping onto the muddy road ahead, which had been trampled by Chu Ze's army.

The thick fog showed no signs of dissipating, and the grayish-white mist provided them with excellent cover.

Hu Yongqiang was extremely cautious. He never walked in the center of the army, but instead deliberately chose to sneak through bushes, piles of rocks, or even shady spots halfway up the mountain. Every mile he went, he would stop, lie down on the frozen mud, and press his ears tightly to the ground to listen for any sounds ahead.

"Commander, aren't we too far behind?" Wang Mazi followed behind, panting heavily, and asked in a low voice, "The fog is so thick, what if we lose them..."

"Idiots!" Hu Yongqiang didn't turn his head, squeezing out two words through gritted teeth. "Those monsters may be sick now, but their numbers—tens of thousands—are still formidable! If they get even slightly closer, their overwhelming aura of blood and chaotic commotion will devour us alive! Remember, we are wolves, not sheep sent to their deaths! Keep a safe distance; as long as there's this mess of excrement and tire tracks, there's no way we'll lose them!"

He raised his head, his eyes, gleaming with a poisonous light, fixed on the depths of the thick fog.

There, one could faintly hear the creaking of heavy wheels grinding against the mud, along with the occasional, extremely faint shouts of cursing. Though the sounds were chaotic, to Hu Yongqiang they sounded as beautiful as celestial music.

"Slow...too slow..." Hu Yongqiang's withered lips curled into a cruel smile. The marching speed of the army ahead was slower than that of a frail old man. He could even imagine those once invincible monsters now struggling in the mud, clutching their stomachs.

Turgh, accompanied by soldiers of the Plain Yellow Banner, followed Hu Yongqiang at a respectful distance. His greedy eyes frequently scanned the cart tracks on the ground, his mind already calculating how to curry favor with Huang Taiji and claim more bondservant slaves and fertile fiefdoms once he captured those evil "heavenly soldiers."

This tracking squad, composed of a mixed Manchu and Han population, completely concealed their movements. They were no longer the arrogant Later Jin cavalry, but had transformed into a pack of hungry, incredibly patient wolves. Under the cover of thick fog and complex terrain, they remained completely silent, relentlessly pursuing the trail left by Chu Ze's army.

A cold wind howled through the ravines of the Yanshan Mountains. Hu Yongqiang moved like a ghost through the bushes, his bulky leather armor covered in frost. He stared intently at the seemingly endless muddy road ahead, his eyes burning with a nauseating flame of resentment and fanaticism.

Chu Ze, you can't escape.

Hu Yongqiang roared silently in his heart. "I'll always be following you around like a wolf, watching you step by step into the abyss, until you reveal your most fatal weakness, then I'll pounce and tear off a piece of your bloody flesh!"