Chapter Sixteen

In the early hours of the fourth day, the enemy vanguard arrived at the city’s gates. Over ten thousand ironclad riders thundered toward the walls, their hooves shaking the very foundations of Beining, causing houses within to tremble in fear. The blast of oxhide horns sounded, now long, now short, while enemy soldiers shouted and roared, the noise surging like a tidal wave. In less than a moment, the Han troops atop the ramparts fired signal cannons in warning. Then, as if muffled thunder pressed down from above, the red-coated artillery thundered in unison, volley after volley sending deep, resounding echoes through the city.

Lin Feng rose hurriedly, hastening to the parade ground surrounded by his personal guard. Dawn’s pale light had barely broken, the chill wind cut to the bone. Outside the walls, the uproar of men filled the air, the city’s artillery rumbled atop the ramparts. Squad after squad of Han officers and soldiers marched out from their barracks, the clash of armor loud and clear, warhorses snorting and stamping, racing toward the field. In no time, they had formed several neat, solid squares.

As the assembly horn sounded for the ninth round, all Han troops stationed within the city, save for those manning the walls, had gathered. Although the numbers were not overwhelming, apart from the two musket brigades urgently dispatched from the Ningjin Command, every other unit was composed of veterans who had undergone rigorous training and the test of fierce battles. Before this campaign, Lin Feng had already incorporated Ma Ying’s forces into his own elite guard corps, ordering Mu Tianyan’s staff to reorganize the battered remnants. Now, all Han troops along the Beining front fell under Lin Feng’s direct command, divided into infantry and cavalry, organized as four infantry brigades, two reinforced artillery brigades, three cavalry brigades, and two medical battalions, totaling over twenty thousand men. Of these, more than seven thousand were cavalry, with over a hundred and eighty artillery pieces of various sizes, the entire force well-trained, fully equipped with technical weaponry, and amply supplied.

Feeling perhaps he had misassigned his men, Lin Feng turned to Ma Ying. “General Ma, you and your men fought all the way from Zhangwu to Beining—do you know who’s leading their forces?”

A flush rose on Ma Ying’s fair face, his eyes full of anger and hate. He gnashed his teeth for a moment, then shook his head. “I do not, my lord!” Seeing Lin Feng frown, he bowed slightly and explained, “My lord, the Tartar army advancing south this time is in utter disarray, and their command is also in chaos. The Eight Banners ignore the Mongols’ calls, and the Mongols disregard the commands of the Eight Banners’ officers. The army stops and starts, their routes are scattered and confused, with no central authority, each column advancing on its own. It’s precisely because of this that I could navigate through the gaps using the terrain of Liaodong. Otherwise, if the Manchu-Mongol army had moved as one, with strict discipline and unified orders, tens of thousands of cavalry closing in, no matter how skilled I am, I would never have escaped.”

“So it’s a muddled campaign,” Lin Feng shook his head, looking around with a laugh. “Don’t be fooled by their numbers. I knew long ago these savages each harbor their own aims, their movements will never be united. Though they may seem formidable, in truth they’re nothing but a rabble!” Turning back to Ma Ying, he asked, “General Ma, do you know why I’ve suddenly assembled the whole army?”

Ma Ying was taken aback. “Isn’t it because the Tartars have arrived?”

Lin Feng chuckled. “You give them too much credit, General. This so-called vanguard—without siege engines, not even particularly numerous—are making a ruckus beyond the walls for no more than routine intimidation. These Tartars, used to bullying the Ming, dare try the same trick on me?”

Ma Ying, baffled, asked, “Then… what does my lord intend?”

Lin Feng motioned to Li Ergou, and several guards stepped forward, unfurling a massive map of Liaodong on the ground. Lin Feng smiled, “Gentlemen, since the late Ming, our Central Plains have been weak for a century. The barbarians have invaded south time and again, their iron cavalry driving all before them. Wherever they went, doors shut in terror. After so many years, their arrogance is second nature, their aggression intolerable. Minister Mu—” he turned to Mu Tianyan, “You are a scholar, steeped in the classics. I recall that in the Chongzhen era, the Tartar general Ajige rampaged across Qing and Xu with only three thousand cavalry. Is that not so?”

Mu Tianyan nodded. “Indeed. Not only did they abduct countless men and women, but they also captured Jinan and killed the local officials.”

Lin Feng smiled and shook his head, pointing at the map. “Now look—while I have assembled the main force at Beining, elsewhere in Liaodong only General Wang Dahai’s troops garrison Ningcheng. Behind me, from Jinzhou and Ningyuan to Shanhai Pass, our lines are thin. Should the enemy bypass us and cut off our supplies, the consequences would be disastrous. Therefore, I have resolved to strike the invading enemy head-on!” He lowered his arm, glancing at the officers around him. “What say you all?”

Wang Shirong was momentarily stunned, exclaiming, “My lord, our troops are exhausted from long battle. The enemy’s presence outside the walls is unclear, and their main forces number forty to fifty thousand. If this is a feint to lure us out, would we not…” Bowing, he gave a wry smile, “In my opinion, we must not act rashly!”

“I understand,” Lin Feng surveyed the assembled officers. “You see only our own fatigue, but have you considered the Tartars have marched hundreds of miles too? If they weren’t weary, with their cavalry’s speed, they could’ve attacked the day General Ma returned. That they waited until now was merely to recover their strength.” He laughed dryly, “Barbarians are human too—do you really think they have three heads and six arms?”

“But…” Wang Shirong’s expression darkened, hesitating.

Lin Feng waved him off. “I know what Ji Yun is thinking—you believe the Tartars not only outnumber us but are also fearsome riders and archers, so we should rely on our strong walls and heavy artillery to wear them down, wait until their momentum wanes, and then launch a decisive attack, correct?”

Wang Shirong and Mu Tianyan exchanged a look, taken aback. Mu Tianyan coughed, “Ahem… my lord, what you said is indeed right. The art of command demands caution and steadiness above all. We have high walls, deep moats, heavy guns, and supplies are ample. Why risk everything for a moment’s bravado against these savages?”

“This isn’t about bravado—you’ve all misunderstood!” Lin Feng’s tone turned grave and low. “My plan is no plan at all!”

Everyone stared in astonishment.

“My intention is to fight the Mongol cavalry and the Eight Banners army in open, honorable battle—not to defend the city, not to rely on counterattacks, but to meet them squarely on the field. Army against army! With our twenty thousand infantry, artillery, and cavalry, we will decide victory or defeat against the Tartar host!”

Wang Shirong and Mu Tianyan could restrain themselves no longer. Both fell to their knees, crying out, “My lord…”

Lin Feng cut them off with a sweeping gesture. “My mind is made up—enough! No more arguments!” Seeing the officers fall silent, he raised his voice. “We’ve been on the defensive for too long. I must fight them in the open. If we don’t shatter the myth that ‘the Eight Banners are unbeatable under ten thousand, and invincible above ten thousand,’ then even if we defeat them this time, the Tartars will never truly submit, and peace will never come to this land!”

Suddenly, he drew his saber high above his head. “We have marched a thousand miles, braved the bitter cold, risked everything for but one purpose: to destroy the last of the Eight Banners in a single battle! War is but the extension of policy—if we cannot pacify all Liaodong, then what use is victory in a hundred battles? This time, with twenty thousand against forty thousand, if we can defeat these unruly savages in open battle, who will dare scorn the might of the Han Empire?”

With a sudden slash, the blade flashed like a ribbon of snow, dazzling all eyes. Lin Feng pointed his saber directly at Ma Ying, his voice fierce, “General Jianwei, I often hear of your iron cavalry, your strong bows and hard crossbows, said to be as brave and invincible as the Eight Banners and Mongol riders. Today, let me see for myself whether your ‘invincible elite’ are true heroes—or just boasters!”

His words echoed across the parade ground. The cavalry standing to the right turned pale on hearing them.

Ma Ying flushed with rage, his fair face turning crimson, his eyes bloodshot. Forgetting all decorum, he barked back, “Fine, fine! Today I’ll show my lord the true heroes of Liaodong!”

Lin Feng met his gaze without flinching, lifting his saber to point toward the city gates. “Then what are you waiting for?!”

Ma Ying spun on his heel and dashed down the platform, leaping onto his horse and shouting orders. Instantly, the horns sounded and all seven thousand cavalry mounted up, armor clanking, horses neighing, blades and spears clashing in a thunderous din. With several sharp whistles, the troops wheeled about and charged for the parade ground gates.

Lin Feng strode forward and called out in a ringing voice, “Ma Ying! I’ll bring the infantry and artillery up right behind you—if you can’t even defeat the Tartar vanguard outside the city, then die with them on the field!”