Chapter Nineteen

Moss carpeted the mountain trail. The rhythmic clatter of cavalry hooves striking the solid stone ground echoed deeply through the valley. Mules and horses, laden with small field artillery, huffed and strained as they struggled forward. Beside them, the drivers of the artillery brigade brandished long whips, snapping them sharply in the air with crisp cracks and shouting rhythmic cries to coax the beasts, carefully tending to the heavy weaponry.

Zhao Liangdong observed from a distance. Seeing that his vanguard had already seized the highlands on both sides and established defensive positions, he felt relieved enough to toss his monocular to an orderly. He turned to Cui Weiya and asked, "How much longer?"

The question seemed abrupt and disjointed, but Cui Weiya had grown accustomed to his superior's manner of speaking. He nodded and replied, "Reporting to the General, this place is known as 'Blue Stone Ravine.' We are still twenty-five miles of mountain road away from Wangjia Fort." He gestured toward the ridge opposite them. "We must cross two more peaks. Beyond the mountains lies a flat expanse that was once the grazing land of Wangjia Fort, stretching about twenty miles around. It is suitable for cavalry to gallop, and there is a stream formed by mountain torrents nearby. With ample water and grass, the Mongol army has stationed a heavy force here."

According to sketchy intelligence, the Mongol army had anchored seven or eight thousand elite cavalry in the area, and the main camp of their commander, Baci, was also established there. The Fifth Army, as the vanguard of the Han forces, had pushed into Shanxi to secure a foothold for the Great General following in their wake. For months, Zhao had labored: first advancing suddenly to the west to take Jing County, seizing the initiative; then pruning the wings of the Dzungar eastern flank to curb the tide of surrender in northwest Shanxi; and finally, by shattering their morale through guerrilla tactics and protracted mountain skirmishes, he had dragged the Mongol army into a quagmire of attrition. Now, Baci was caught—unable to advance or retreat, isolated, struggling with supplies, and demoralized. His officers were irritable and desperate for battle, creating the most favorable conditions for a final decisive strike.

According to the General Staff's operational orders, the Fifth Army was now ready to execute the command: "Destroy the enemy to the front."

"Boom..." A deafening roar erupted as artillery suddenly thundered from the ridge ahead. The sound rolled like distant thunder, and dust billowed into the sky. Countless hooves pounded the earth, creating a thunderous echo throughout the mountains. Droplets of water shook from the leaves overhead, soaking the uniforms of the officers.

"Hard work, stand up—did the Tatars reach the mountain?" Zhao Liangdong asked.

"Thank you, General," the cavalryman replied, standing up and bowing. "To answer the General, as soon as Officer Mu spotted the dust kicked up by the Tatars, he ordered the brothers from the musket battalion to head up the mountain. By the time I arrived, the musketeers had already felled timber and built abatis!"

A faint smile touched Zhao Liangdong’s lips as he nodded. Unlike Lin Feng’s Guards, his troops were largely composed of former Qing soldiers, and he favored traditional tactics. Although Lin Feng urged his musket units to "train for bravery and spirit" and engage cavalry head-on without obstacles, the Fifth Army had never fully embraced this. Under Zhao’s urging, the units of the Fifth Army still habitually constructed bunkers during training.

"Heh, of course," Zhao chuckled, pointing ahead. "Baci is a high-ranking general of the Khalkha tribe of Northern Mongolia. Last year, when Galdan marched north to Uliastai and crushed the Khalkha, Baci was forced to surrender to the Western Mongol Dzungars. The men he leads now are his own Khalkha kin. Do you think he would fight to the death for Galdan?"

Cui Weiya realized the implication and asked, "What about Sayyid’s Muslim troops?"

"Same thing. I spent much time in Gansu and know the Muslim soldiers well. They tend to stick together, cling to their foreign faith, and are indeed fierce and brave. But they didn't come to Shanxi of their own volition; Galdan forced them. If there's an easy profit to be made, they’ll fight, but to die for the Great Han Imperial Army? It’s not worth it!" Zhao laughed. "Sayyid isn't Galdan’s adopted son. If he wipes out his own people, how could he answer to the elders back home?"

Cui Weiya agreed, nodding. "The General speaks wisely. I have often heard that the Tatar tribes lack discipline and morality, valuing only raw strength. If Baci and Sayyid exhaust their strength, they won't even be able to serve as Dzungar lapdogs anymore, will they?"

"Exactly!" Zhao Liangdong patted Cui Weiya on the shoulder and laughed loudly. "Don't be fooled by Galdan’s current momentum; he is actually hollow. The rules of the steppe are simple: the strong grow stronger. If he gains the upper hand, the tribes flock to him, and his army grows. But at the slightest setback, those tribes will turn their backs and seek their own paths. Galdan is different from our Han army. Even if he were to swallow our Fifth Army, it would be no great trouble for our Lord. As long as our territory and people remain, we have troops and grain, and we can fight him until the mountains are piled with corpses! So, this time, we don't seek to annihilate the Tatar eastern army. We only need to hurt Baci and Sayyid, to make them fear us, to make them unwilling to trade lives with us—if we do that, we have won!"

"Heh, true..." Cui Weiya stroked his short beard in agreement. "Our Lord, the Prince of Han, must think the same—to keep the enemy outside our borders and fight them in Shanxi. If we win a great victory at Wangjia Fort this time, the Tatars will surely withdraw from Dai Prefecture, right? If so, our Fifth Army will have fulfilled its orders to the Lord!"

"It won't be that easy," Zhao Liangdong shook his head, his smile fading into a grave expression. "Brother Weiya, do not be impatient. The Tatar cavalry is elite, while our army is primarily infantry. Our method must be to advance step by step, grinding them down with patience!" He turned, hands clasped behind his back, squinting into the distance. "I estimate this battle at Wangjia Fort will cost the Tatars five or six hundred men—with luck, perhaps over a thousand. We will use our artillery to force them to abandon the fort, then push them back step by step, driving them out of Wuniu Mountain. Once the supply lines are cleared, we will face them in Jing County. When the Lord’s main force arrives, the Tatars will have no choice but to retreat!"

He turned to face Cui Weiya. "I am a crude man and have not read many books. Back when I served in the Qing ranks, General Tuhai once told me, 'Those who are truly skilled in war leave no record of glorious deeds.' That is a profound truth, and I have kept it firmly in mind," he said with deep meaning. "Brother Cui, you would do well to remember it as well."

Cui Weiya was startled and hurriedly bowed. "Thank you for the lesson, General. I will keep it in mind!" He raised his head, face full of flattery, ready to offer more praise, when suddenly the rapid clatter of hooves echoed from below. Several loud voices shouted for a path to be cleared. Startled, he looked back to see a squad of cavalry in the colors of the Imperial Guards rushing up from the rear.

"Where is the Commander of the Northern Expedition, General Zhao Liangdong?!" the lead officer shouted as he raced up the mountain. Zhao’s personal guard dared not block him. The officer reined in his horse a hundred paces away, dismounted, and rushed forward, kneeling in the dirt. "This subordinate pays respects to General Zhao!" He reached into his tunic and produced a small oilcloth parcel, holding it above his head. "Secret military intelligence from the Prince of Han! I beg the General to receive it!"

Zhao Liangdong took the parcel, ordered the messenger to rise, and smiled slightly. "Emissary, please rise—someone, prepare a meal for the emissary!"

After the messenger descended the mountain, Zhao Liangdong turned away to open the parcel against the wind. The mountain air was cold, yet the parcel was still warm with the heat of the messenger's body; the man had ridden so hard that his sweat had soaked through the oilcloth. Zhao slowly opened it to find only a short note:

*To my brother Liangdong:*
*Changes have occurred in Khorchin. The main army will be delayed. Handle the affairs in Shanxi as you see fit, but be cautious.*

Beneath the Prince of Han’s signature and seal, there was a line of small, vermillion-inked characters written by the Privy Councilor Wang Shirong: "Urgent. For the eyes of the officers of the Imperial Guards, the Fifth Army, and the Office of Ordnance and Provisions."

No reinforcements?! Zhao Liangdong’s heart sank, and his face turned cold as ice. He stood with his back to his men for a long time, saying nothing. His officers exchanged bewildered glances, unaware of what had happened.

After a long hesitation, Zhao Liangdong suddenly turned around, his face flushed with rage. He waved at his officers and roared, "Gentlemen, I have just received instructions from the Lord—" He glared at them, his gaze sweeping over their faces as he spoke with fury. "The Lord demands to know why the Fifth Army has failed to consolidate Jing County, and why you gentlemen have been so slow to drive back the Dzungar eastern force!"

Cui Weiya and the others were terrified; they hurriedly knelt, shouting in unison, "This subordinate is incompetent and has failed the Lord's trust! Please punish us, General!"

"Punish your mother's..." Zhao Liangdong’s face reddened to the point of bursting. His rage was frantic, and he unleashed a string of obscenities that forced his subordinates to hang their heads. "Zhao Guangyuan is already on his way with his First Army, and he’s less than a hundred miles from here... Bah! I'll curse his mother's ancestors..."

Cui Weiya and the others knelt on the ground, exchanging glances. They finally understood: the Lord no longer trusted the Fifth Army’s combat capability, and the Mongol general Zhao Guangyuan was coming with a large force to steal their glory. Zhao Liangdong had spent months of painstaking effort to find this opportunity to fight the Tatars and recoup his standing, only for the prize to be snatched away at the last moment. It was no wonder he was so furious.

"Officer Cui, calculate when Zhao Guangyuan will reach Wangjia Fort!" Zhao Liangdong demanded.

Cui Weiya calculated silently and reported, "Reporting to the General, if there are no delays, the First Army's cavalry will reach the battlefield by tomorrow morning at the latest!"

"They want to pick the peaches? It won't be that easy!" Zhao Liangdong snorted. "Pass my order: all units are to accelerate and assemble at the ridge before Wangjia Fort. The army will rest for one hour. Slaughter all the accompanying cattle and sheep; give every man a pound of meat and two taels of wine. Once they have eaten, we launch a full-scale assault immediately!"

*Clang.* He drew his long sword and sliced a small tree in front of him in two. "Gentlemen, reinforcements will be here soon. The Tatars' time is up. Our Fifth Army will show everyone what we are made of—don't let the brothers of the First Army laugh at us," he snarled. "In today's battle, we advance, never retreat! Wherever the Tatars flee, we pursue! From Baci down to the last soldier, groom, or cook, not a single one is to escape!"