Chief Armaments Master of the Ming Dynasty

The third year of Chongzhen's reign, at the end of the third month.

On the city wall of Yongping Prefecture, the dragon flag of the Great Jin Dynasty fluttered in the cold wind.

Amin stood on the city wall, gazing at the hazy horizon outside the city, his face even more gloomy than the sky.

He was Nurhaci's nephew, one of the four great beile of the Jin Dynasty, and the banner lord of the Bordered Blue Banner.

When Huang Taiji led his main force back east, he entrusted him with the defense of the four cities of Yongping, Luanzhou, Qian'an, and Zunhua. This was a great trust in him, but also a great test.

But he didn't want to stay.

"Your Highness, Prince Jirhalang requests an audience," a guard reported.

Amin frowned, but nodded nonetheless.

Jirhalang strode up to the top of the city wall.

He was Nurhaci's nephew, Amin's younger brother, and the deputy banner chief of the Bordered Blue Banner.

Compared to Amin's anxiety, his expression was much calmer.

"Brother Amin," Jirhalang said bluntly, "the scouts report that a large Ming army is moving towards Luanzhou. Sun Chengzong is personally overseeing the operation, with Zu Dashou and Ma Shilong as the vanguard, and the force numbers no less than 30,000."

Amin's lips twitched slightly: "Thirty thousand... In Luanzhou City, Namutai only has two thousand men."

"Therefore, we must rush to their aid," Jirhalang said in a deep voice. "If Luanzhou falls, Yongping, Qian'an, and Zunhua will also be indefensible. Before leaving, Huang Taiji Khan repeatedly instructed that the four cities are mutually supportive and must be defended at all costs. This is the wedge we have driven into the Ming capital region, and we must not lose it."

Amin sneered, "Huang Taiji? He took his main force back to Shenyang, leaving us here to be targets for the Ming army. He certainly has a good plan."

Jirhalang's expression changed slightly: "Brother, be careful what you say."

"Did I say something wrong?" Amin's voice suddenly rose. "They marched a thousand miles, all the way to the gates of Beijing—what a glorious victory! But what about Huang Taiji? He met with a tough challenge at Guangqumen, Man Gui fought to the death at Yongdingmen, and Yuan Chonghuan's Guan Ning army relentlessly pressed forward. So he backed down, saying, 'The Ming Dynasty is still strong; we cannot take it too soon,' and led his main force eastward. Leaving you and me to defend these few isolated cities! Isn't this treating us like expendable pawns?"

Jirgalang was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Khan Huang Taiji has his reasons. The Ming Dynasty is indeed still strong, and we cannot swallow it whole. Occupying these four cities is like planting a nail in the Ming capital, thus securing the gateway to the south in the future. This is a long-term strategy. If we hold them, it will be a great achievement. If we cannot hold them..."

He didn't go on.

Amin gazed out of the city, his eyes dark and gloomy.

He was well aware of this principle.

But he also knew that the four cities were isolated within the pass, besieged by a large Ming army, with reinforcements far away in Liaodong, and supplies were running low. How could they possibly defend them?

"Pass down the order," Amin suddenly spoke, "Strengthen the city's defenses, prepare more rolling stones and logs. Also, send fast horses to urge Shenyang to send reinforcements."

Jirhalang breathed a sigh of relief: "Brother is wise."

Amin didn't respond. His gaze drifted across the gray sky to the south—the direction of Luanzhou. Namutai, can you hold out?

Luanzhou. This small city, located southwest of Yongping, was now completely surrounded by a dense mass of Ming troops. On the city walls, the white dragon flag was still flying, but the flag was riddled with arrows, and the flagpole had been broken off by cannon fire, standing crookedly.

Namutai stood atop the city wall, his face ashen as he gazed at the endless Ming army camps outside. He was a Jiala Ejen of the Bordered White Banner, and had followed Huang Taiji in his campaigns for many years, but he had never seen such a fierce Ming army.

"Lord Namutai, the Ming army is gathering again!" A Niru Ejen pointed outside the city, his voice trembling.

Namutai looked over. In the Ming army camp, squads of soldiers were marching out, pushing shield carts, ladders, and cannons, approaching the city wall. The ranks were orderly, and the commands were clear, a stark contrast to the garrison troops of last year who collapsed at the first sign of trouble.

This is the Guan Ning Army led by Zu Dashou, the most elite border troops of the Ming Dynasty. They had fought against the Jin army in Liaodong for many years, and were familiar with the Jin army's tactics and weaknesses.

"Cannons! Bring the cannons up!" Namutai roared hoarsely.

The Jin army artillerymen on the city wall were frantically loading ammunition.

The few small cannons they possessed were captured from the Ming army last year; they were of poor quality and had a short range. But at this moment, they were their only long-range firepower.

Boom! The cannon fired, and the iron ball flew whistling towards the Ming army ranks, crashing to the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.

Several Ming soldiers were knocked down, screaming as they fell. But the others did not flinch and continued their steady advance.

"Release the arrows!" The archers on the city wall released their bows. Arrows rained down like rain. The Ming infantry raised their shields to block, the arrows striking the shields with a series of thuds. Men continued to fall, struck by arrows, but the ranks remained intact.

One hundred and fifty paces. In the Ming army's formation, the cannons stopped. The gunners skillfully loaded, aimed, and lit the fuses.

Boom! Boom! Boom! More than a dozen cannons fired simultaneously, sending iron balls hurtling towards the city wall.

An iron ball struck the crenellation, sending stones flying and several Jin archers flying in all directions. Another ball hit the city wall, making it tremble.

"Fight back! Fight back!" Namutai roared. But the few cannons on the city wall were far inferior to the Ming army's artillery in both range and power. The Jin artillerymen fought back desperately, but most of the shells landed on the open ground in front of the Ming army's formation, kicking up clouds of dust and causing little damage.

The Ming infantry, pushing their shield carts, continued to approach the city wall. One hundred paces. Eighty paces. Fifty paces.

"Fire!" In the Ming army ranks, musketeers pulled the triggers. Bang bang bang—! A dense barrage of gunfire rang out, and smoke filled the air. On the city wall, Jin archers who had leaned out to fire arrows were all struck, screaming as they fell from the wall.

"Move against the wall! Move against the wall!" The siege ladder was brought against the city wall. The Ming infantrymen climbed upwards on all fours. Their movements were not as agile as the Jin army, but they were more steady and orderly. When one fell, the next person immediately took his place, without the slightest hesitation.

"Roll the boulder!" Namutai picked up a large boulder and smashed it down from the city wall.

A stone struck a Ming soldier on the head. The man groaned and fell to the ground below the city wall, stone and all.

More stones, logs, and molten gold poured down.

Ming soldiers continued to fall, their screams echoing throughout the battlefield.

But more Ming troops surged forward. Zu Dashou gave a death order—Luanzhou must be captured today.

The supervising troops below the city, wielding broadswords, stood watch with predatory intent.

Anyone who dares to retreat will be executed without mercy. The first Ming soldier climbed onto the city wall. Before he could even stand firmly, he was pierced by several spears at the same time, screaming as he fell off the wall.

The second, the third... the Ming army surged onto the city walls wave after wave like a tide. Cracks began to appear in the Jin army's defenses.

Namutai brandished his long sword, running and shouting across the city walls, rushing to wherever danger lurked.

His battle robe was soaked in blood, and he had more than a dozen wounds of varying sizes all over his body, but he couldn't care less. All he knew was that as long as the city stood, he would stand; if the city fell, he would fall.

"Lord Namutai!" A Niru Ejen, his face covered in blood, stumbled in. "The east wall! The east wall has fallen! The Ming army is attacking!"

Namutai's heart sank, and he charged toward the east of the city with his sword drawn.

On the eastern wall, the Ming army had already occupied a section of the city wall and was widening the breach to both sides. The Jin army resisted desperately, but their numbers were dwindling and their lines were thinning.

Namutai charged into the enemy ranks, his longsword flashing. He severed the neck of one Ming soldier with a single stroke, and pierced the chest of another. He was like a mad tiger, and for a moment he even forced the Ming soldiers surging onto the city wall to retreat several steps.

But he alone could not change the course of the battle. The Ming army simultaneously stormed the city walls from three directions—the east, south, and west. The Jin army was overwhelmed and their defenses were in dire straits at every turn.

"Lord Namutai! We can't hold out any longer! Let's break through!" The captain of the personal guards grabbed Namutai and shouted hoarsely.

Namutai was jolted. Break through? He was the Jiala Ejen of the Bordered White Banner, a warrior of the Great Jin. Huang Taiji Khan had entrusted Luanzhou to him; how could he possibly break through?

"I'm not leaving!" He shoved his guards aside. "The city stands, I stand; the city falls, I fall!"

"Lord Namutai!" The captain of the personal guards knelt down, tears streaming down his face. "If you die, can Luanzhou be defended? As long as the green hills remain, there will always be firewood!"

Namutai gazed at the densely packed Ming troops below the city, at the dwindling number of Jin soldiers on the city walls, and at the tattered dragon flag. His hands trembled.

Finally, he closed his eyes. "Breakthrough."

The gates of Luanzhou opened silently in the darkness. Namutai led the remaining few hundred cavalrymen out of the north gate and galloped towards Yongping.

Behind them, in Luanzhou city, hundreds of Jin infantrymen who hadn't had time to break out engaged in fierce street fighting with the Ming army that had stormed the city. No one surrendered. They knew the Ming army wouldn't accept surrender.

Last year, the Jin army swept through the capital region, killing countless people. Now that the Ming army has breached the city, why would they leave any survivors?

A night of fierce fighting ensued. By dawn, all the Jin soldiers in Luanzhou City had perished.

The white-bordered dragon flag fell from the top of Luanzhou city.

Luanzhou has been recovered.

News of the fall of Luanzhou reached Yongping at dusk the following day.

Amin was having dinner in his residence. After hearing the scout's report, the chopsticks in his hand fell onto the table with a clatter.

"Where is Namutai?" His voice was hoarse.

"Namutai Ejen broke through the encirclement and is leading his remaining troops toward Yongping."

Amin remained silent for a long time. Then, he suddenly stood up and overturned the table. Bowls and plates shattered, and soup splattered everywhere. The guards and servants were so frightened that they knelt on the ground, not daring to breathe.

"Two days!" Amin's voice was like that of a wounded beast. "You couldn't even hold out for two days! Namutai, you piece of trash!"

Jirhalang rushed over upon hearing the news. His face was also grim, but he was much calmer than Amin.

"Brother, Luanzhou has fallen, and Yongping is now an isolated city. Sun Chengzong's next move will undoubtedly be a full-scale attack on Yongping. The most urgent task is to strengthen the city's defenses and send an urgent plea for help to Shenyang. If reinforcements can arrive within half a month, Yongping can still be defended. If not..."

"Reinforcements?" Amin laughed bitterly. "Shenyang is a thousand miles away. Mobilizing an army and procuring supplies—all of these take time. By the time reinforcements arrive, you and I will already be dead under the Ming army's blades!"

Jirgalang remained silent. He knew Amin was right. When Huang Taiji Khan led his main force eastward, he took most of his troops with him. Moreover, a long journey to provide reinforcements would indeed take time. They might not be able to wait that long.

"So what does my brother mean...?" Jirhalang asked tentatively.

Amin didn't answer. He walked to the window, looked at the bare branches of the trees in the yard, and remained silent for a long time. Then, he whispered something, a very soft voice, which sent a shiver down Jirhalang's spine.

"I want to go back to Liaodong."

"Brother!" Jirgalang cried out urgently, "Khan Huang Taiji ordered us to defend the four cities to the death. You abandoned them without authorization; that's a grave crime!"

"A grave crime?" Amin turned abruptly, his eyes bloodshot. "Staying to die isn't a grave crime? Two thousand men in Luanzhou were gone in less than two days! How many two thousand men are there in Yongping City? How many days can they hold out? The Ming army outnumbers our Great Jin warriors many times over! You know that too! Hold out to the death? What will we use to hold out to the death?"

Jirhalang opened his mouth, but could not utter a word.

Amin's voice lowered, but became even more resolute: "Pass down the order to pack up the supplies and prepare for retreat."

"Brother!" Jirhalang knelt down. "No! The four cities were captured with the Khan's painstaking efforts; they are like knives plunged into the heart of the Ming Dynasty! If we abandon them, all our previous efforts will be in vain! If the Khan blames us..."

"Blame me?" Amin sneered. "If Huang Taiji were so capable, why didn't he stay behind to defend it himself? He abandoned us here as pawns, and now he won't even let us live?"

Jirgalang was speechless. He knew that Amin had always harbored resentment towards Huang Taiji.

When Nurhaci died and Huang Taiji succeeded him, Amin, as one of the four great beile, was dissatisfied.

Over the years, Huang Taiji had been constantly weakening the power of the three great beile, and Amin's resentment had been building up. Now, that thread had finally snapped.

"My mind is made up." Amin waved her hand. "No need to persuade me anymore."

He paused, then said something even softer, but it was all the more chilling.

"Not a single Han Chinese in the city was spared."

Jirhalang looked up abruptly, his eyes filled with shock.

"Brother! A massacre of the city?"

Amin's eyes were icy cold: "These Han Chinese surrendered to us last year. Now that the Ming army has returned, do you think they'll still be on our side? Keeping them in the city is like keeping a city full of spies. If we don't kill them, are we going to let them stab us in the back when the Ming army attacks?"

Jirhalang's lips trembled, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he said nothing. He stood up and silently withdrew.

The twilight in Yongping was stained with blood.

Amin's order was like opening the gates of hell. Jin soldiers broke down doors, house by house. Blades flashed, blood splattered. Cries, screams, and pleas for mercy came from every street and every house, mingling together and echoing over Yongping.

An elderly man with white hair knelt on the ground, kowtowing repeatedly: "Sir, spare my life! Sir, spare my life! I offered grain before, and I truly submitted to the Great Jin..."

A flash of light appeared. The old man's voice abruptly stopped.

The white-haired head rolled to the ground.

His eyes were still open, filled with fear and confusion.

A woman, holding a baby, hid under the bed, trembling.

The Jin soldiers overturned the bed, grabbed the woman by the hair, and dragged her out. The woman struggled desperately, and the baby in her arms cried loudly.

"Please! Please! The child is innocent!" the woman cried out hoarsely.

A flash of light. The woman's cries abruptly ceased. The baby's cries also abruptly ceased.

A young scholar was dragged out of his study. He was clutching a book in his arms. It was the Zizhi Tongjian, a family heirloom he had treasured for many years.

"This is my book! This is my book!" he struggled desperately. A flash of light. The scholar's hand loosened. The scroll of "Zizhi Tongjian" lay scattered on the ground, soaked in blood. On the pages, the lines of ink written by Sima Guang gradually blurred in the pool of blood.

Flames rose from all parts of Yongping City.

After killing the people, the Jin army began to set fires.

They wanted to burn the city down, leaving the Ming army with nothing but ruins.

Fueled by the wind, the fire spread rapidly. House after house was engulfed in flames. Street after street was turned into a sea of ​​fire. Thick smoke obscured the sun, and flames soared into the sky.

Jirhalang stood atop the city wall, gazing at the sea of ​​fire within the city and listening to the cries carried on the wind, his face as pale as paper.

He wanted to stop it, but he knew he couldn't.

Amin is the commander-in-chief, and he is the deputy commander.

Military orders are absolute.

Moreover, he knew that what Amin said wasn't entirely without merit.

These Han Chinese surrendered to the Jin last year, but now that the Ming army has returned, whose side will they side with? Leaving them alive is indeed a hidden danger for the city.

But that's thousands of lives at stake.

Several thousand unarmed civilians, including the elderly, women, and children.

What crime did they commit? They just wanted to live.

They surrendered when the Jin army attacked last year.

Now that the Ming army has returned, they will surrender.

They were just wild grass in a chaotic world, bending whichever way the wind blew. All they wanted was to survive.

But in this world, even living is a luxury.

Jirhalang closed his eyes.

The fire burned all night.

By daybreak, Yongping City had been reduced to ruins.

On the street, charred corpses lay scattered about.

The air was filled with a nauseating, acrid smell.

Amin, mounted on his horse, gazed at the dead city, his face expressionless. "Let's go," he said, turning his horse around.

Several thousand Jin soldiers, escorting the looted goods and the few remaining able-bodied prisoners, poured out of the north gate of Yongping and headed towards Lengkou Pass.

Beyond Lengkou Pass lies Liaodong.

It's their hometown, the only place they want to go back to right now.

Jirhalang walked at the back of the procession and glanced back at Yongping City.

The city, appearing and disappearing in the morning mist, resembled a giant tomb.

Zunhua City.

This important town in eastern Hebei was captured by the Jin army last year, and the governor, Wang Yuanya, committed suicide to defend his country.

Afterwards, the Jin army left troops to garrison the northernmost stronghold among the four cities.

News of Yongping's retreat had not yet reached this place.

However, the news of the fall of Luanzhou had already made the Jin army commanders in the city uneasy.

That night, he ordered the entire army to retreat.

Before retreating, he did the same thing as Amin—massacred the city.

The people of Zunhua had already experienced a catastrophe when the Jin army breached the city last year.

Those who survived lived in fear and trembling during the months of Jin occupation, paying taxes and serving the Jin army in exchange for their lives.

They thought the worst was over.

Little did they know, something even worse was yet to come.

The Jin army broke down the door and entered.

The flash of swords, the sparks of fire, the cries of pain, the screams of agony.

Zunhua was transformed into hell once again.

A middle-aged man who lost his wife and son when the Jin army breached the city last year, but survived alone.

For the past few months, he has lived like a walking corpse, feeding the Jin army's horses and chopping wood in exchange for a bite to eat.

He didn't know why he had to live; he was just not dead yet.

When the Jin soldiers held their swords to his neck, he suddenly laughed.

That smile sent a chill down the spines of even the Jin soldiers, who were used to killing.

"You...you will all die," he said. "You will all die."

A flash of light. His smile froze on his face.

Qian'an. The smallest of the four cities. The garrison numbered only a few hundred. News of the fall of Luanzhou and the retreat of Yongping reached Qian'an almost simultaneously. The garrison commander did not hesitate—he withdrew.

Massacre. The same order, the same tragedy. The people of Qian'an City were reduced to cold corpses under the swords of the Jin army.

---

Lengkou Pass. This is a pass on the Great Wall, an important passage from inside the pass to Liaodong.

When Amin led the Jin army from Yongping, escorting the looted goods, to Lengkou Pass, the Jin armies from Zunhua and Qian'an also arrived one after another.

The three groups of troops joined forces and marched in a mighty procession through Lengkou Pass, retreating towards the outside of the pass.

As Amin rode his horse, gazing at the Great Wall receding into the distance and at the land ravaged by war, he felt a mix of emotions.

He knew that once he left, he would never come back.

The four cities that Huang Taiji Khan had painstakingly conquered, the wedges within the Great Wall, were thus abandoned by his own hands.

How would Huang Taiji deal with him? He didn't know.

But he knew that staying meant certain death. Going back might offer a chance of survival.

He'd rather take the gamble.

Zu Dashou's Guan Ning army arrived at Yongping City on the third day after Amin's retreat.

What came into their view was a scene of ruins.

The city wall is still there, but the city gate is wide open, and there is no one on the city wall.

Most of the houses in the city were burned down, leaving only charred beams and broken walls.

The streets were littered with corpses, men, women, and children.

Some of the corpses had been mutilated by wild dogs, revealing their white ribs.

The air was filled with a suffocating stench of corpses and burning flesh.

Zu Dashou rode his horse slowly through the streets of Yongping.

Behind him, the soldiers of the Guan Ning Army were all pale-faced and had red eyes.

They were all seasoned veterans, accustomed to death. But what they were witnessing still exceeded their limits.

An old soldier suddenly stopped, squatted down by the roadside, and vomited violently. No one laughed at him. Because everyone felt like vomiting.

Zu Dashou didn't vomit. He just gripped the hilt of his knife tighter.

He had been on countless battlefields and seen countless dead people.

But a massacre of a city is different.

On the battlefield, it's soldiers against soldiers, generals against generals; swords and spears have no eyes, and death is commonplace.

But a massacre is the killing of ordinary people. It's the killing of unarmed old people, women, and children. It's the killing of those who kneel on the ground begging for mercy.

That wasn't war. That was massacre.

"Search," Zu Dashou's voice was hoarse. "See if there are any survivors."

The soldiers dispersed and searched through the ruins.

Occasionally, someone would let out a cry of surprise—that meant a survivor had been found.

But such exclamations are far too rare.

A young soldier found a seven or eight-year-old boy under a collapsed house.

The boy was curled up in the corner, covered in blood, it was hard to tell if it was his own or someone else's.

His eyes were wide open as he stared at the person in front of him, his body trembling.

"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid..." The young soldier squatted down and stretched out his hand. "We are Ming soldiers, we've come to rescue you."

The boy didn't speak. He just stared blankly at the hand reaching out to him.

That look in his eyes didn't look like a child's. It looked like a dead person's.

The young soldier's eyes reddened.

He picked up the boy and held him in his arms.

The boy's body was very light, as light as a feather.

He didn't struggle or speak; he simply let the stranger hold him.

The young soldier carried him through streets littered with corpses and through still-smoking ruins.

He didn't know where he was going; he just instinctively kept walking forward.

He walked for a long time, then suddenly stopped, squatted down by the roadside, and burst into tears.

Zunhua and Qian'an.

The Ming army successively recaptured the two cities.

The same ruins, the same corpses, the same stench of death.

There were more survivors in Zunhua than in Yongping.

It wasn't because the Jin army was merciful, but because they retreated in haste, and some people hid in cellars, dry wells, and deep in ruins, thus narrowly escaping death.

An old woman hid in the cellar for three days and three nights.

She heard footsteps, cries, and screams overhead, the rumble of collapsing buildings, and the crackling of flames engulfing everything.

She covered her mouth, afraid to make a sound.

When the Ming army found her, she was too hungry to speak.

A soldier handed her a piece of dry rations, which she took but did not eat.

She just stared at the piece of dry rations, and murky tears slowly streamed down her wrinkled cheeks.

"They're all dead..." Her voice was hoarse like sandpaper. "My son, my daughter-in-law, my grandson... they're all dead... Why didn't you come sooner? Why..."

The soldiers were speechless.

The news of the recapture of the four cities was sent to the capital by fast horse.

The entire court was filled with jubilation.

The cabinet ministers submitted a memorial to congratulate the emperor, praising his wisdom and the soldiers' bravery.

Emperor Chongzhen summoned his ministers to the platform and announced the rewards for their merits—Sun Chengzong was promoted to Grand Tutor of the Crown Prince, Zu Dashou granted his son the title of Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and Ma Shilong was promoted accordingly.

But no one mentioned the civilians who died.

No one mentioned the countless skeletons in Yongping, Zunhua, and Qian'an cities.

No one mentioned the survivors who were crying in the ruins.

The victory report contained only one line: "Four cities have been recaptured, and many have been killed or captured."

"Many were captured." But how many of those "captured" were actual Jin soldiers? And how many were unarmed civilians? No one asked. No one wanted to know.

Four hundred miles east of Beijing, Sun Chengzong stood atop the newly recaptured city of Yongping, gazing at the ruins within the city and the hazy horizon in the distance, remaining silent for a long time.

He is sixty-six years old this year, with white hair and beard, and deep wrinkles on his face as if carved by a knife.

He was a veteran official of three dynasties. During the Tianqi era, he commanded troops in Liaodong, built cities, trained soldiers, and recovered hundreds of miles of lost territory.

He was later impeached by the eunuch faction and dismissed from office, returning to his hometown.

After Chongzhen ascended the throne, he reinstated him, but he never held a real position.

Until last year, the Jurchens breached the pass, causing shockwaves throughout the capital region.

Emperor Chongzhen then remembered this old commander-in-chief and urgently summoned him to the capital, ordering him to command the recapture of the four cities.

He did not betray the emperor's trust. The four cities were recovered. The Jurchens were driven out of the pass. But he felt no joy at all.

"Commander, it's windy, let's go back," the aide advised cautiously.

Sun Chengzong did not respond. He gazed at the scorched earth below the city, at the still-smoking ruins, and at the soldiers burying the corpses, and suddenly uttered a sentence in a low voice.

"When I was the commander-in-chief of Liaodong, I vowed to recover the entire Liaodong region. Later, I was dismissed from office and returned to my hometown, thinking that I would never have the chance again in my life. Now, I have returned to the battlefield and recovered four cities, which should be gratifying. But all I see are corpses."

He paused, then lowered his voice.

"When the Jurchens came, the people suffered. When our army came, the people suffered again. I don't know whether we are saving them or harming them."

The staff members were speechless.

Sun Chengzong turned around and slowly walked down from the city wall. His figure looked particularly old in the setting sun.

---

Shenyang. The Great Jin Khanate.

Huang Taiji sat on the Khan's throne, his face ashen. Kneeling before him were Amin, Jirgalang, and Namutai, who had broken out of Luanzhou. Cold sweat beaded on Amin's forehead. Jirgalang kept his head bowed, remaining silent. Namutai lay prostrate on the ground, trembling all over.

Huang Taiji looked at them for a very long time.

Then he spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a chill down everyone's spine.

"Four cities, lost?"

Amin kowtowed: "Your Majesty... the Ming army is too powerful, and we are unable to withstand their fierce fighting... In order to preserve our strength, we have no choice..."

"Have no other choice?" Huang Taiji suddenly laughed. The smile was faint, so faint as to be almost imperceptible. But everyone knew that the more he laughed, the more terrifying he became.

"Luanzhou had two thousand men, and they only held out for nearly two days. How many troops were in Yongping City? How many days did they hold out?" His voice was still not loud, but it was like a knife, cutting into Amin's heart again and again.

Amin's lips trembled, and she couldn't speak.

Huang Taiji stood up, walked to Amin, and looked down at him.

"Amin, you are my cousin, the late Khan's nephew, and one of the four great Beile of the Great Jin Dynasty. I entrusted four cities to you because I trusted you." He paused. "And you? How have you repaid me?"

Amin kowtowed heavily, his forehead striking the floor tiles with a dull thud. "Your subject... has failed the Khan's grace, and deserves to die!"

"You deserve to die?" Huang Taiji's voice suddenly rose, his eyes filled with rage. "You truly deserve to die! Not only did you lose four cities, you also massacred them! You wiped out all the Han people in those four cities! Amin, are you afraid the Ming army doesn't hate us enough? Are you afraid the resistance we encounter when we march south won't be fierce enough?"

Amin was visibly shaken. When he massacred the city, he was only thinking about eliminating potential threats and venting his anger.

He hadn't considered that this would intensify the hatred of the Ming Dynasty towards the Jin Dynasty, and make future southward campaigns even more difficult.

"You're not only stupid, you're cowardly!" Huang Taiji's voice boomed like thunder. "Jirgalang advised you to defend to the death, but you wouldn't listen. Namutai fought to the last moment at Luanzhou, but you didn't even see a shadow of the Ming army before abandoning the city and fleeing! Amin, are you still a Beile of my Great Jin? Are you still a descendant of the Aisin Gioro clan?"

Amin lay on the ground, trembling all over, unable to utter another word.

Huang Taiji looked at him, and the anger in his eyes gradually cooled, turning into something deeper and colder.

That was disappointment. Utter disappointment.

"Guards." His voice regained its calm. "Strip Amin of his title of Prince and confine him within high walls. When Yongping withdrew his troops, all generals who participated in the massacre of the city shall each be flogged one hundred times and demoted but retained in their posts. Namutai, although Luanzhou was lost, you did your best. You will not be punished. Jirhalang, you tried to dissuade Amin but failed to stop him; you shall be demoted one rank."

"Your subject...accepts the decree." Jirhalang kowtowed.

Amin was dragged away by the guards. He did not struggle, nor did he beg for mercy.

He knew that Huang Taiji had already done everything he could for him.

According to the military law of the Jin Dynasty, abandoning a city and losing territory is a capital offense.

Huang Taiji spared his life out of consideration for the bloodline of the late Khan and because he was one of the Four Great Beile.

But being confined within high walls is worse than death.

Huang Taiji sat back on the Khan's throne, looked at the princes and beile in the hall, and remained silent for a long time.

Then he spoke. His voice was calm, yet every word carried immense weight.

"Losing four cities isn't terrible. What's terrible is that we've forgotten why we marched south." He paused. "We marched south not to occupy one or two cities, not to kill a few people. We marched south for the whole world. Massacring a city might intimidate people for a while, but not forever. True dominance isn't won through bloodshed, but through winning hearts and minds, gained little by little."

The princes and nobles were completely silent.

Huang Taiji's gaze swept over everyone. "Remember today. Remember Amin's fate. From now on, anyone who dares to massacre a city without authorization will be reminded of Amin."

"Yes, sir!" the crowd responded in unison.

Huang Taiji stood up, walked to the palace entrance, and gazed at the hazy southern horizon. That was the direction of the Ming Dynasty. It was the world he longed for.

"Sun Chengzong..." he murmured the name, a complex look flashing in his eyes, "This old man does have some skill."

Then he turned and walked back to his throne. "Send down the order to prepare the army for war and stockpile provisions. Next year, I will personally lead the army to conquer the Ming Dynasty again."

His voice echoed in the empty hall.

"This time, I don't want the four cities. I want Shanhaiguan."

April of the third year of the Chongzhen reign.

The Ming army achieved a great victory at Zunyi and Yongzhou, recapturing four cities within the Great Wall.

But the wounds of war are far from healed.

The capital region was devastated, and hundreds of thousands of people were displaced.

The four cities of Yongping, Luanzhou, Zunhua, and Qian'an were reduced to ruins.

Piles of white bones, no one to collect them.

Those who survived will forever remember that winter—the sound of iron hooves, the firelight, the glint of swords, and the cries of their loved ones.

I remember that long, seemingly endless nightmare.

The spring breeze swept across this ravaged land. It blew over the charred ruins, over the newly erected graves, and over the numb faces of the survivors. Spring had arrived, but some people remained forever in that winter.