Chapter Fourteen

The chill of early spring was heavy with frost, and patches of white snow speckled the dark earth. Though the sun had risen high, the icicles hanging from the treetops stubbornly refused to melt. A cold, dry wind swept in from beyond the Great Wall, heightening the biting cold.

Zhao Liangdong, the Northern Central General of the Han army, sat astride a chestnut warhorse, stationed atop a hill, urging his troops onward into the heart of Shanxi. Clad in the standard uniform of a general and mounted on a fiery red steed, even the scabbard of his waist blade was lacquered vermilion. From a distance, he resembled a blazing flame against the stark landscape.

The war had broken out on the sixth day of last month.

Like many frustrating events, the spark that ignited the conflict between the Han forces and the Zunger troops was a trivial matter.

Since Galdan, the great khan of the Zunger Mongols, led his army to “strike against the Qing,” tens of thousands of elite Mongol cavalry had surged into northern Shanxi like a tidal wave. Although the Han forces had remained highly vigilant against this foreign army from the start, political considerations prevented them from openly expressing hostility. The Fifth Army, stationed in Datong Prefecture, had even received orders in the latter half of last year forbidding unauthorized border skirmishes. Thus, while the Mongol tribes of Khorchin, Tüsheet, and Zunger clashed violently beyond the Great Wall—leaving countless dead and wounded—both the First Army in Xuanhua and the Fifth Army in Datong kept a low profile, repeatedly deflecting requests for aid from Khorchin envoys, striving to avoid direct involvement in the brutal war.

This time, however, the Eastern Route Army was markedly different from the previous year. Unlike the Mongol soldiers familiar to the Han officers, many of the Zunger troops were Hui cavalry riding Hequ horses. Their treatment of the local inhabitants was even more brutal and savage than that of the Mongols. On the sixth day of last month, a band of Hui soldiers—whether on patrol or foraging—suddenly raided several villages under Han control, abducting able-bodied men and women, seizing food and timber. Within half an hour, nearly half the villagers were slaughtered. Before departing, they gleefully set fire to the homes that had sheltered the people from the harsh winter, reducing them to ashes.

Thus, the great Han Empire and the western Mongol Zunger faction plunged into full-scale war.

Reports indicated that Zhao Liangdong’s immediate adversary—the Zunger Eastern Route Army—numbered about fifteen thousand cavalry. Beyond that, they had conscripted numerous “newly attached troops,” mostly local Shanxi men forcibly recruited, along with former Qing local units, bandits, and surrendered peasant rebels. Compared to the disciplined Zunger cavalry, these troops were poorly equipped, lacked morale, and received insufficient supplies. Due to the policy of “using Han to control Han,” they were led by their respective leaders with disjointed command, mutual suspicion, and rampant internal strife—an utterly disorganized rabble. Yet their sheer numbers were overwhelming. In the regions of Baode and Daizhou alone, these mercenary Han units numbered as many as sixty thousand. After the Mongol invasion, these traitorous forces maintained local order, collected provisions, and secured the conquered territories.

Including these units, the Zunger forces numbered nearly eighty thousand, with the fifteen thousand elite Mongol cavalry as the core, surrounded by the massive but unreliable auxiliary forces. Zhao Liangdong’s strength was comparatively weak. The Han Fifth Army comprised three rifle brigades, one artillery brigade, and one cavalry brigade—just over thirteen thousand troops total. Even with the militia drafted to escort supplies, the total force did not exceed thirty thousand, making the battle extremely difficult.

Zhao Liangdong gazed thoughtfully at the long, winding column of marching soldiers and could not help but fret.

Regrettably, the war had not started favorably for him.

His troops had already crossed the Inner Great Wall and were advancing along the Wuniu Mountains toward the prefectural city. The route was twisting and rugged, significantly slowing their progress and causing great difficulties for the accompanying supply units. The path he had chosen was the result of meticulous planning by the military staff—scholars trained in military science from Mazhuang—who had painstakingly identified this “good road.” According to historical records, this route was originally constructed during the Ming dynasty, after decades of imperial investment, as a military road to facilitate troop movements, supply transport, and Great Wall repairs. However, the reality was far from the record. Since the decline of the Ming, no one had maintained the road. Over a hundred years of weather and neglect, successive local officials had dismissed it entirely. Many sections were blocked by landslides and debris; the ground was muddy and uneven; and numerous bridges over mountain streams had been destroyed by floods, forcing the army to halt repeatedly to rebuild them.

This was a grave military blunder. Six staff officers of the Fifth Army lost their heads over it, and the chief of staff was already being escorted back to the capital, his fate likely bleak.

According to the prewar strategic plan drafted by the Han General Staff, General Zhao Guangyuan’s Fifth Infantry Army was to rapidly penetrate Daizhou territory before the Zunger forces had prepared defenses, seize all strategic points south of Yanmen Pass, and force the Zunger Eastern Route Army into a decisive battle near Daizhou City. The objective was to repel the enemy while coaxing and persuading the traitorous Han troops to defect, thereby consolidating the front lines and establishing a bridgehead for the reinforcements personally commanded by Lin Feng to conquer Shanxi.

When the order reached Zhao Liangdong, he modified it. Ambitious and confident, he intended to take Daizhou with only his twelve thousand well-trained and well-equipped soldiers, annihilate the fifteen thousand Zunger cavalry, and compel tens of thousands of traitorous soldiers to surrender. He aimed to create a military exemplar of a small force defeating a large one, a weak force overcoming a strong enemy—a triumph that would silence any accusations that Zhao Liangdong was a “false Qing defector” or doubts about his lord’s judgment. This victory would restore his honor and allow him to hold his head high.

His original plan was to rush straight into Daizhou, ignoring the harassment of the traitorous militias, and directly challenge the enemy’s elite forces in the city. The principle was to stake everything on survival in the face of death—if the enemy dared to engage, he would crush them with firearms and artillery; if they refused battle, he would occupy the city, accept surrenders, and rally all “righteous” forces to besiege the invaders. Such a reversal would shift defense to offense and rival the legendary “Snowy Night at Xia Cai Prefecture” battle of old.

Zhao Liangdong never feared the so-called “Mongol cavalry.” Born in Liangzhou, Gansu, he understood the scattered and uncoordinated nature of the enemy’s forces all too well. Unfortunately, the Fifth Army’s chief of staff was a fool. Zhao Liangdong was frustrated; he had always regarded this man as clever and refined, but now wondered why he had not recognized his true nature sooner.

It was too late to change anything. Reluctantly, Zhao Liangdong dispatched large numbers of militia from the rear, who, under cavalry protection, began repairing the road ahead. The army’s formation shifted from column to line, advancing cautiously and steadily through the Wuniu Mountains.

From that moment, the Han forces systematically began clearing local mountain strongholds—unique economic units characteristic of northern Shanxi during this era. Tracing their origins to the late Ming dynasty, these “mountain villages” began as refuges for landlords and wealthy farmers amid turmoil. As peasant uprisings led by Li Zicheng and the Qing conquest swept the land, many fled to the mountains, joining these communities where they farmed, subsisted, and defended themselves. These villages often formed around a single clan surname, bearing names like “Zhang Family Village” or “Wang Village.” Though rustic in appearance, they were no different from plains villages except for their more pronounced military character.

Due to scarce resources, the main Mongol forces withdrew shortly after subjugating the local powers. Most mountain villages in Daizhou had yet to grasp the gravity of the political crisis or take firm stands. When the invaders reached their homes, the villages followed customary practice—sending envoys to surrender, offering provisions and livestock to show goodwill. Fortunately, the Mongol troops accepted these gestures and praised the friendly overtures. Both sides were pleased, and the Zunger army symbolically assigned a few leaders before withdrawing to the prefectural city.

Now, these mountain villages were about to face serious trouble.