Chapter Thirty-Nine: Carving a Path Through Blood
When two forces meet in a narrow pass, the brave will prevail—if you want to live, then, damn it, charge forward!
“Anyone who wants to survive, follow me!” Lu Qing raised his blade and roared. He didn’t want to die here; he wanted to live! If anyone stands in his way, he’ll make sure they don’t live either.
Determined to survive, Lu Qing threw caution to the wind. He wasn’t skilled in battle or killing, but when it came to closing his eyes and charging ahead, that he could do!
“Brother Lu, you and your guards aren’t cut out for leading the charge—leave killing Tartars to us border troops!” Zhou Yunyi, seeing the enemy soldiers ahead nocking arrows and realizing Lu Qing wore no armor, leapt in front of him to shield him. Jiang Tong and the others quickly followed suit, and in the blink of an eye, Lu Qing was safely behind their protective line.
Lu Qing knew the “Night Raiders” and border soldiers were far more skilled than he, fiercer in desperation, and faster at killing. Seeing them take the front, he felt a surge of gratitude and wisely fell back, though he still remained at the very forefront of the Ming formation.
Not wanting to die doesn’t mean being afraid of death; not fearing death doesn’t mean seeking it. Whether in close combat or during a standoff, those in the front lines rarely meet a good end—no one wants to be a living target.
Zhou Yunyi and his men’s actions spared Lu Qing from becoming target practice for the enemy and gave him a better chance at survival. He could not help but feel thankful. For now, he could only remember this debt—if he survived the day, he would repay it tenfold in the future.
...
Those charging at the front were the most formidable men from the Night Raiders and the border army. Having cast aside thoughts of life and death, their bloodshot eyes glared at the enemy soldiers standing ready, wishing they could tear those treacherous dogs apart and swallow them whole.
“Remember this, all of you—I’m Zhao Erdun from Yongfeng Fort of the Kaiping Garrison. If any of you survive, if you ever pass by Yongfeng, tell my mother I, Zhao Erdun, am an unfilial son who couldn’t see her to her grave!”
“I’m Yu Er’kui from Yu Family Fort—my elder brother is the flag-bearer there. If any brother here makes it back, tell him the six taels of silver he set aside for his wedding weren’t stolen by thieves, but gambled away by his good-for-nothing little brother!”
“I’m Zhou Bangde from the Left Garrison of Wanquan. I have no family—my parents died early, and I never married. If I eat my fill, no one goes hungry. I have nothing to pass on but my name—Zhou Bangde!”
“I’m Shi Tiezhu from Jiming Fort of the Right Garrison of Wanquan. If I die and any brother makes it back, tell my wife not to mourn me—she’s young enough to remarry! But my son must never take another man’s surname. The Shi family line cannot end with me. If she dares change my son’s name, I’ll haunt them from the grave!”
...
The front line Ming soldiers saw the enemy aiming arrows at them and knew all too well that they would be the first to die. Who started it, no one could say, but as they charged, eyes blazing, each man began to shout his final words, and those behind them listened with aching hearts.
Lu Qing felt the pain acutely and couldn’t help but call out, “I am Lu Qing of the Datong Embroidered Uniform Guard. If I die and any brother makes it back and sees our commanding officer, tell him: The Emperor must never go to Tumubao!”
...
Those who heard this last message were bewildered. Lu Qing, too, regretted his outburst after shouting it—such words were ill-omened. He dared not say more, gripping his blade and charging behind Zhou Yunyi and the others.
Though the front men’s parting words brought sorrow to those behind, they also steeled the Ming soldiers’ resolve to press on. Dead or alive, there was no turning back now.
With the vanguard leading the way, those behind would not falter. With no other choice, whether through gritted teeth or pounding hearts, they threw themselves forward, shouting as they charged, even Old Qin—who had earlier sworn to kill Lu Qing for revenge—was now ready to fight for his life.
...
The rebellious enemy troops at the gate had not expected the Ming soldiers to rally and charge en masse instead of scattering in panic. Their numbers, a dark mass of a thousand strong, dwarfed the defenders, who were less than half their number, leaving them uncertain whether to stand or flee.
A few enemy officers, seeing the determination of the Ming soldiers, realized these men were desperate. Weighing the disparity in numbers, they hesitated—after all, they had just let the big fish Commander Zhao Mei of Kaiping escape; what harm in letting these ragged Ming survivors go?
But none dared to decide alone and all looked to the leading officer for guidance. That officer, however, ignored their silent pleas and instead grabbed a soldier, barking, “Go find the Lord Chancellor outside the wall and have him send reinforcements at once—if you’re late, these Ming will escape! Go now!”
“Yes, sir!” The soldier, understanding the gravity of the order, nodded hard, called for a comrade, and slipped away under cover of darkness toward the wall.
The Ming force drew ever closer, now within a hundred paces. The enemy officer, seeing his men’s wavering courage, and even his fellow officers’ reluctance to fight, realized they could not hold the line. Gritting his teeth, he shouted, “Don’t be afraid! These Ming have lost their spirit. I’ve already sent for reinforcements—just hold them a moment, and the Chancellor’s army will arrive to wipe them out!”
...
Hearing that the Chancellor’s army would soon arrive, the enemy soldiers regained their composure. While they could not stop the Ming alone, the Chancellor’s troops could easily crush this battered remnant.
“Baru, don’t worry—these Han dogs won’t escape! Lads, hang in there. Soon each of those heads will fetch us a pile of silver!” Hearing that Baru had called for reinforcements, the officers were emboldened, drawing their bows and encouraging their men.
With the promise of reward, the enemy soldiers found renewed vigor. Over a thousand Ming heads promised a windfall if they could only hold the line.
“Follow my orders—don’t shoot yet. Let them come closer. Aim for the ones in front, not those behind!” Baru, the officer, knew that the bravest Ming were at the front—if he could kill the leaders, the rest might lose heart and chaos would break out, relieving the pressure until reinforcements arrived.
At Baru’s command, the archers relaxed their bowstrings, holding fire until the Ming drew nearer. Those most skilled with the bow began picking out likely leaders among the crowd.
...
The Ming vanguard was less than fifty paces away, yet Baru still withheld the order to fire. The tension of such close-range combat had the archers sweating, a few trembling as they waited. Soon, Baru’s voice cut through the air.
“Loose!”
At his command, the string of arrows whistled through the night. With a scream, a Night Raider at the front was struck full in the face and fell dead. Dozens more were hit—most in the shoulders or chest, a few in the thighs. Those wearing armor felt only a sharp pain; the arrows failed to penetrate deeply and could be yanked free. But the unarmored were not so fortunate.
At fifty paces, the arrows struck with deadly force. Without armor, each arrowhead buried itself to the shaft in flesh. Some died instantly; those still alive suffered excruciating pain, some fainting from the agony.
The enemy had few bows, but every arrow found its mark, and soon more than half the vanguard lay fallen, their cries rising and falling in the night.
Jiang Tong, the round-faced soldier, took an arrow through his left arm, the force knocking him back several steps. Only the quick reflexes of a delicate-looking Night Raider kept him from being trampled underfoot.
Lu Qing was lucky—the arrows seemed to swerve around him, two in quick succession flying harmlessly by. He silently thanked every god and spirit in heaven.
Deadly arrows continued to whistle through the ranks, but no one faltered or broke formation. The survivors pressed forward, trampling over the living and dead alike—they could not afford to care who they stepped on, only that they must keep charging or be the next to die.
None feared the dead; these soldiers had seen too much war. They had accepted the risk of being shot in the charge. Now, their only hope was to break through the enemy line with sheer numbers and flee toward Junzi Fort in the northwest.
It was their only chance at survival.
No matter how many pursuers followed or how many fell along the way, they could not stop. To stop was to die.
...
“Shoot! Kill them all!” Baru was stunned by the Ming’s tenacity. He had never seen a broken force fight like this. In his experience, a fleeing Ming army could be run down by a handful of warriors, but these men kept charging, even as the bravest fell—did they truly not value their lives?
From the outset, Baru had misread the situation. He wasn’t leading a pursuit; he was trying to block the path of desperate men. The difference between pursuing and blocking was the difference between life and death.
Had he chosen to pursue, the Ming might have been doomed—for men in flight have no courage to turn and fight. But by blocking, he forced them to risk everything.
“Shoot! Kill them all!” Baru kept roaring, wishing he could unleash a rain of arrows. But he forgot that his handful of archers could not inflict enough casualties on such a mass. The price of Ming blood would soon be paid in the lives of his own men.
As the Ming pressed home their charge, it came down to brutal, face-to-face slaughter—no tricks, just a contest of life and death.
“Kill them!” Lu Qing finally reached the enemy lines, and with a roar, the killing began. Heads and limbs flew, blood spurted everywhere, splashing faces, bodies, and even mouths. The air stank of gore, and the flagstones beneath their feet were slick with it.
...
Breaking through the enemy’s line unleashed the pent-up fury of the Ming soldiers. Outnumbered, the defenders could no longer hold.
Some officers clung to Baru, begging, “We can’t hold any longer—let them go!”
“If we keep fighting, we’ll all die!”
“Retreat, Baru! It’s over!”
“Where is this Chancellor’s army you spoke of—where?”
“Why are we dying here for the Oirats, when they won’t even show themselves?”
“Baru, did you sell us to the Oirats?”
...
Questions and pleas surrounded Baru. Looking at the warriors who had followed him into rebellion, seeking only to reclaim their status as steppe heroes, he hesitated. He longed for the Chancellor’s banner to appear, but nothing of the sort was in sight.
“We can’t fight anymore—the Ming have gone mad, and so has Baru!” At last, one officer could bear the slaughter no longer and led his men to withdraw. Seeing this, the others glanced at Baru’s grim face and also ordered a retreat.
As the enemy fell back from the road, the blood-soaked Ming erupted in cheers and surged forward.
After running several hundred paces, Lu Qing suddenly stopped, searching for something. Zhou Yunyi, noticing, paused to ask, “Brother Lu, what are you doing? Hurry up!”
“I have to find Eunuch Guo!”
Lu Qing had no time to explain. All around him, Ming soldiers streamed northwest. Squeezed aside by the crowd, Lu Qing spotted Eunuch Guo sitting dazed nearby.
“Sir! Sir!” The eunuch was neither dead nor running in panic, which eased Lu Qing’s mind. But after several calls, Guo remained motionless, staring at the ground.
Had he been frightened senseless?
Lu Qing hesitated, then slapped him hard across the face. With a sharp crack, Guo suddenly leapt up, shrieking, “Which bastard hit me!”
“Sir, it’s me!”
“You, boy! I thought you were dead!” Realizing who it was, the eunuch forgot the slap and clung to Lu Qing, sobbing and wailing, leaving Lu Qing feeling awkward.
“Sir, this isn’t the time for tears—we have to go, or the Tartars will catch us!”
“Yes, yes!” At the mention of pursuit, the eunuch hastily wiped his tears and hurried off, dragging Lu Qing along.
All around, the road was filled with Ming soldiers fleeing northwest, leaving the eunuch pale with fear.
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This week’s results haven’t been great—favorites rising and falling, and next week the website won’t be recommending me. I was pretty discouraged, but seeing readers still voting and tipping me reminded me that I’m not fighting alone. That’s what keeps me writing.