Chapter Forty: Southward! Southward!

Eunuch Guo, already advanced in age and deeply shaken, could barely manage a few steps before he was gasping for breath. Seeing this, Lu Qing, despite being nearly exhausted himself, bent down and hoisted him onto his back. The burden was immense; his steps faltered, sweat soaked his back, and his breathing became labored.

Eunuch Guo witnessed all of this, and the gratitude swelling in his heart was truly beyond words. This young man treated him more dearly than his own father would! Tears streamed down the old eunuch’s face. He no longer urged the youth to save himself and leave him behind, but clung to Lu Qing’s back, filled with both emotion and sorrow. He swore a silent oath: if they survived this ordeal and the emperor still had use for him, he would do everything in his power to raise the young man’s status—be it to a commander of a hundred, or even a thousand households, he would beg for it with his old face. From then on, he would treat Lu Qing as his own son.

Lu Qing had no idea what Eunuch Guo was thinking. He was gritting his teeth, forcing himself onwards, and more than once felt the urge to cast the eunuch aside. Yet each time, he suppressed the thought with sheer will.

There was no other reason: Eunuch Guo was simply too important. Without him, Lu Qing would never see the emperor, nor Wang Zhen!

There were still twenty days until the disaster at Tumu Fortress. If he could survive to reach Junzi Fortress, there might still be a chance to change the course of this tragedy. But if he abandoned Eunuch Guo, even that last sliver of hope would vanish.

Lu Qing had long understood the pain of being powerless and unheard. He did not want to lose his head for “spreading panic.” He needed someone who could bring him before Wang Zhen and the emperor. That person could only be Eunuch Guo—no one else would do!

For that faint possibility, Lu Qing was willing to endure all the physical pain and torment. As long as he could still move, he would carry Eunuch Guo with him. Only if he truly could not take another step would he let go—and at that point, it would likely be the moment he closed his eyes forever.

…

The fleeing Ming soldiers, seeing Lu Qing still carrying an old man on his back, were astonished. Yet none stepped forward to help; all were focused solely on their own escape, with barely a glance spared for him. Those who did look his way did not admire his loyalty, but rather cursed him for not valuing his life. Thirty miles on foot was exhausting enough for one man, let alone with a burden. Was he offering his head to the King of Hell? Did he think the Oirat raiders wouldn’t pursue them?

“Lu, are you trying to get yourself killed?” Zhou Yunyi and his companions saw that Lu Qing insisted on carrying Eunuch Guo with him and were displeased. They had grown close to Lu Qing because, though he was part of the imperial guard, he fought the Mongols with valor, and his actions inspired respect. He was worth befriending as a true man.

But to be close to Eunuch Guo, a eunuch who had fled the battlefield, was something they would never accept—let alone rescue him. Seeing Lu Qing shouldering the eunuch, they felt it was foolish, and wanted to persuade him to abandon the old man. But Lu Qing’s resolute expression left them unable to speak.

Jiang Tong and the bearded man wanted to urge Lu Qing to hurry, but seeing how he struggled to move, they exchanged a glance and sighed. Then, one on each side, they helped lift Eunuch Guo off Lu Qing’s back. Instantly, Lu Qing felt lighter and was able to move much faster.

Seeing this, Zhou Yunyi merely shook his head and continued forward in silence.

Ahead, chaos reigned for reasons unknown, and the distant sounds of battle drifted over. Lu Qing was alarmed, thinking more Mongols had intercepted them. But soon he realized the fighting was not with the Mongols, but among the desperate Ming soldiers and the Night Scouts themselves.

Dozens already lay dead on the ground, but those remaining showed no intention of stopping. Instead, they continued to curse and attack each other.

After lifting Eunuch Guo higher, Jiang Tong frowned and asked, “What’s going on?”

Zhou Yunyi observed the scene, then turned back to the group, saying, “Someone’s trying to steal our horses.”

“Horses?” Lu Qing’s eyes lit up, but then dimmed. There were only a few dozen horses, yet hundreds of Ming soldiers were fighting for them. The odds were slim, and trying to wrestle a horse from these desperate men was nigh impossible.

Among the horses were mounts belonging to the Night Scouts, as well as some left by the Mongols. Zhou Yunyi and his companions’ own mounts were being held tightly, surrounded by even more desperate men.

For these few dozen horses, those who had just fought side by side against the Mongols were now mortal enemies, cutting each other down without mercy, more vicious than they had been against the Mongols.

It was hard to blame them. On the road to escape, riding a horse meant seven or eight times greater chance of survival compared to fleeing on foot. For even a slight increase in survival, men would kill each other—let alone for such a decisive advantage.

The Ming soldiers fighting for the horses were divided into three main groups: the Night Scouts from the Right Guard of Wanquan, the Ming soldiers from the Left Guard of Wanquan, and finally, a group led by several officers from Kaiping Guard, the largest group but at a disadvantage since they faced attacks from both the Night Scouts and Wanquan’s men. Despite their numbers, they struggled to hold out.

Just before, these three groups had joined forces against the Mongols, with no fear or thought of retreat, united by a common enemy and the desire to live. Now that the Mongols were no longer in their way, the fight for survival had turned inward, and slaughter among themselves was inevitable.

Everyone longed to reach Junzi Fortress, thirty miles away, alive. No one wanted to be caught and killed by pursuing Mongols. To survive, they had to seize a horse—it was their only hope.

Some who managed to get a horse were cut down before they could even mount, attacked from all sides, and those attackers would then turn on each other. The scene was bloody and chaotic. Unless the killing left only enough men to ride the horses, the slaughter would not end.

Lu Qing longed to step forward and urge them to stop, but he knew no one would listen. They had already escaped the Mongols and knew where to flee. He was of little value to them now; no one would surrender their chance of survival for a stranger.

“What do we do, Squad Leader?” Seeing his own mount taken, Jiang Tong was anxious, brandishing his blade to snatch back his beloved horse.

“I don’t care about anyone else’s horse, but mine I must have!” said the Night Scout with white hair, rarely a man of words, gripping his blade, ready to fight for his horse alongside Jiang Tong.

The bearded man glanced at Lu Qing and added, “Brother Lu still has to carry Eunuch Guo. Without horses, we won’t get far. The Mongols could catch up anytime.”

At this, Zhou Yunyi nodded and said to Lu Qing, “Brother Lu, you and Eunuch Guo wait here. We’ll go get the horses.”

But Lu Qing caught his arm and shook his head. “Forget it, Zhou. There are too many people. We’ve barely escaped here alive; it’s not worth turning on each other for a horse. If anything happens, it’s not worth it.”

“But without horses, we won’t get far!” Jiang Tong was both anxious and angry that Lu Qing would suggest not fighting for the horses. He had no desire to spend the whole escape carrying the eunuch.

“Without horses, we won’t get far, but if we go now and fight for them, we’ll get nowhere. Can you guarantee you can kill all those fighting for the horses?”

“I…” Jiang Tong was speechless. There were simply too many fighting for the horses. Even with his skills, it was clear that charging into that melee would be more likely to get him killed than to secure a mount.

The bearded man and the others hesitated, their faces betraying their uncertainty.

“Let them fight. The longer they take, the better our chances for survival,” Lu Qing said. He had no wish to risk his life on an uncertain outcome.

Eunuch Guo wanted to say something, but seeing the Night Scouts’ lack of respect for him, wisely kept silent, coughing quietly in the background.

After a moment’s thought, Zhou Yunyi agreed. “Lu is right. We won’t fight for the horses—let’s move!”

With their leader’s order, Jiang Tong and the others, though unwilling, realized there was no alternative. To charge in now would mean almost certain death, and the time lost could let them escape several miles before the Mongols caught up.

Moreover, with hundreds fighting for the horses, the Mongols were sure to notice and would target them first before chasing down the rest. This would only increase their own chance of survival. So, no longer discussing the matter, they followed Zhou Yunyi and Lu Qing around the chaos, though their faces were grim—especially at seeing their beloved mounts in the hands of strangers.

Besides Lu Qing’s group, many other Ming soldiers made the same choice, slipping away into the darkness in the northwest. No one spoke; only hurried footsteps could be heard.

After running more than two miles, Zhou Yunyi switched with Lu Qing to carry Eunuch Guo, and they pressed on for several more miles. Everyone was gasping for breath, but the dreaded Mongol pursuit did not come. In the distance, Dushi Fortress glowed with fire and smoke, but no movement could be heard.

No one knew why the Mongols had not come, but this rare opportunity for escape was treasured by every survivor. Friends and strangers alike merged into streams of men, vanishing into the night.

Along the way, several squads of Ming soldiers joined them. Upon learning that Lu Qing was the one who had directed them toward Junzi Fortress, he became their de facto leader. Numbers grew, and Lu Qing, not wanting to be defenseless should the Mongols attack, discussed with Zhou Yunyi how best to persuade other soldiers to band together. Soon, their force swelled to four or five hundred.

…

Half an hour after the bulk of the Ming army had escaped, the fire within Dushi Fortress finally died down, and the wind fell silent. At this time, Balu, leading his remaining hundred-odd Mongol soldiers, saw several hundred Oirat cavalry riding out from the fortress.

The army, arriving so late, left Balu with a bitter taste. Seeing that the leader was a commander of a thousand, he stepped forward and saluted, “Balu greets the Lord of Ten Thousand!”

The Oirat military retained the Yuan system, with commanders of ten thousand, thousand, hundred, and ten. The commander of ten thousand, also called the Lord of Ten Thousand, was second only to the grand chancellor or chief minister, usually in command of several tribes and wielding great power.

The Lord of Ten Thousand glanced at Balu and asked, “Where are the Ming soldiers?”

“We could not stop them. They fled northwest,” Balu replied, feeling ashamed. His men, however, were indignant. If only this force had arrived sooner, they might not have lost so many nor let the Ming escape.

The Lord of Ten Thousand seemed to sense their resentment but ignored it, instead asking in surprise, “Northwest? Shouldn’t the Ming be fleeing south to Maying? There’s nothing to the northwest but Junzi Fortress, and that’s just a hundred-man post. Why flee there?”

Balu had no answer; he did not know why the Ming soldiers fled northwest.

Seeing Balu’s silence, the Lord of Ten Thousand did not press further. He snorted, “So Zhao Mei and Yang Jun are headed to Junzi Fortress as well?”

“No, Commander Zhao and Supervisor Yang fled south, toward Maying.”

“Commander Zhao and Supervisor Yang—mere cowards. People say they’re the best under Yang Hong, but it seems they’re nothing but empty reputations,” the lord sneered. Then, turning to Balu and his men with added weight in his tone, “From now on, you are no longer Ming soldiers. You are warriors of Oirat. You have no ties to the Ming realm. If any of you still harbor loyalty to Ming, don’t blame me for being merciless!”

Balu stiffened and quickly replied, “Yes, my lord!”

“We understand!” the Mongol soldiers chorused, cowed by the lord’s presence.

The Lord of Ten Thousand, satisfied, glanced over Balu’s men. “The Chancellor bids me tell you that for today’s victory, you will be well rewarded. Balu, you take the chief merit and are appointed a commander of a thousand. Henceforth, you will serve in our army.”

At this, Balu was overjoyed and immediately knelt, “I am willing to serve the Chancellor and you, my lord, to the death!”

His men followed suit, all pledging fealty.

“Rise,” the Lord of Ten Thousand gestured.

Balu stood, then requested, “My lord, grant me a thousand men, and I will take Junzi Fortress before dawn, leaving not a single Ming soldier alive.”

“Oh?” The Lord of Ten Thousand seemed unimpressed. He waved his hand. “No need. They’re but a rabble of defeated men. Let them live a few days longer.”

Seeing Balu’s disappointment, the lord laughed. “Balu, do you know that the Chancellor has ordered the army to march south at dawn?”

“At dawn?!” Balu’s heart leapt.

The Lord of Ten Thousand pointed his riding whip south, pride in his voice. “The Grand Chancellor has learned that the Ming emperor is leading his army to Datong. He commands us, after breaching the border, to march south and cut off the emperor’s retreat. The Grand Chancellor himself will lead the main force to meet the Ming emperor in battle, to ensure he never returns to Beijing! So, these thousand or so remnants are of no consequence. If we can defeat the emperor’s army, Oirat will rule the Central Plains, and the land of the Han will be ours, ha!”

Balu and his men had expected the army to move south after the raid, but had not imagined the Grand Chancellor would seek a decisive battle with the Ming emperor himself. Now, as they prepared to follow the Chancellor in cutting off the emperor’s retreat, they were both shocked and elated. If they could defeat the emperor’s army, the warriors of the steppe would once again rule the Central Plains. The thought filled them with excitement.

Had they not rebelled against Ming to restore their ancestors’ glory?

As Balu’s heart surged, the Lord of Ten Thousand pointed his whip at him and shouted, “Balu!”

Balu answered at once, “At your service!”

“The Chancellor asks if you are willing to serve as the vanguard for our army and capture Maying for him!”

“I am willing!” Balu pounded his fist to his chest. “If I don’t take Maying, let the Chancellor take my head!”

“Good! Take your men to rest. At dawn, we march south!”

“South! South! South!”