Chapter Thirty-Two: The Tartars Rebel

Fire?!

Lu Qing was startled awake, all trace of sleep vanishing in an instant. He looked up toward the outside of the tent, only to see firelight everywhere. Shadows of people darted frantically back and forth across the tent walls, painted crimson by the roaring flames, while the shouts of Ming soldiers rang in his ears.

Fire in the camp? The military’s fire regulations were strict—how could this have happened?

Lu Qing stood there, dumbfounded, unable to believe that a fire had broken out within the camp. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do.

He and Eunuch Guo were prisoners, with Yang Jun’s men keeping guard outside. Even if they wanted to help put out the fire, they couldn’t get out.

Suddenly, Lu Qing shook Guo awake with a forceful shove, then dragged the stunned eunuch toward the exit.

He had no choice but to run—the thick smoke from outside had already seeped into the tent. If they stayed any longer, they’d either burn to death or suffocate!

But once outside, both men halted abruptly, standing rooted to the spot in terror.

On the ground lay the corpses of the four guards who had been watching them. Beyond the leaping flames, countless figures were locked in brutal combat.

Shouts, screams, the wails of men being cut down by swords and stabbed by spears, the thunder of firearms—one after another, they filled the air. Corpses littered the ground, making the Wanquan Left Guard camp resemble a battlefield.

What on earth was happening?!

Both sides in the fight were Ming soldiers. Lu Qing and Eunuch Guo gaped in confusion, unable to fathom why the Ming troops had begun slaughtering one another.

What shocked them even more was that, aside from this camp in chaos, fires were raging inside Dushi Fortress as well, and the walls echoed with the sounds of battle. Within and without, everything was plunged into bedlam.

Had the Tartars broken through?

Lu Qing could never have imagined that Arat would choose to launch his assault at night. Judging by the tumult on the walls, the attack was fierce; now and then, a massive boom rang out, as the Oirat fired stone shot from their Huihui cannons into the fortress.

Yet since Ming troops still held the walls and the gates of Dushi Fortress had not been breached, what was the meaning of these Ming soldiers fighting one another in the camp?

Eunuch Guo was the first to realize the truth. He cried out in shock, “Those are Tartar soldiers!”

Tartar soldiers?

Lu Qing blinked, then looked closely at the fighting troops. Sure enough, they were all broad-faced Mongol warriors, led by Tartar officers—one of whom was the very Mongol officer Lu Qing had seen at the camp gate earlier, the one who spoke fluent Chinese.

Why were these Tartar officers rebelling?

Since the Yongle reign, Mongol officers and soldiers in the army had always been loyal to the Ming. In decades past, save for a handful who’d fled after committing murder, there had been no cases of defection—much less a full-scale revolt.

The Ming court had always treated these Tartar officers and soldiers generously, and there had never been cause for concern. No one could have imagined that these men, so well treated by the Ming, would suddenly turn traitor. What in the world was happening?

The uprising was so sudden that the officers of the Wanquan Left Guard were caught completely off guard, unable to muster an effective defense. The soldiers who stumbled out of their tents in a panic were no match for the prepared Tartars. Meanwhile, the fire spread unchecked, and with the chaos of night, no one knew how many rebels there were or whether the Ming still held the walls. Panic gripped everyone. The Tartar officers and their men soon seized control of the camp, and aside from a few pockets of desperate resistance, the rest of the Ming defenders had already been wiped out.

Far off, the Oirat were besieging the walls with all their might; nearby, Dushi Fortress was in chaos; before them, the camp was overrun with frenzied Tartar soldiers. It was no wonder that Lu Qing’s heart was seized with terror.

Just as he was frozen with fear, Eunuch Guo suddenly grabbed his arm and said urgently, “Young man, let’s take advantage of the turmoil—run, now!”

“Run?”

Lu Qing started, but quickly understood. This chaos in the camp was his golden opportunity to escape!

“Right!” Without hesitation, Lu Qing snatched up a sword from the ground, gripped it tight, and helped Guo toward the camp gate.

He was just an ordinary man, useless in such a maelstrom. To stay and fight the Tartars would mean certain death. Better to protect Guo and seek out Wang Zhen—perhaps he still had a chance to change the course of history. If he stayed, regardless of whether the Ming or the Tartars prevailed, his fate would be grim.

Behind them, the last pockets of Ming soldiers—three or four hundred strong—were still resisting desperately, their valor drawing the attention of the rebel Tartars. No one noticed Lu Qing and Guo as they slipped toward the camp’s edge.

About a dozen paces from the gate, Lu Qing glanced back. The Ming were still holding out, and the shouts from both sides suggested the Tartars wouldn’t overcome them immediately. He breathed a sigh of relief—the courage of these Ming soldiers had bought him and Guo precious time. If they could just escape into the darkness, they’d surely get away.

But just as they were about to leave, a voice rang out from among the resisting Ming: “The Commander’s running! The Commander’s running!”

In the firelight, several men on horseback could be seen galloping toward the camp gate.

As the riders drew near, Lu Qing finally saw their faces—one of them was none other than Yang Jun!

Yang Jun was in a sorry state. The attack had been so sudden that he hadn’t even had time to don his armor; he wore only a nightgown, half his beard singed away.

Yang Jun spotted Lu Qing and Guo, hesitated for a heartbeat, then spurred his horse past the gate and vanished into the night without a backward glance.

Lu Qing and Guo were dumbfounded. Neither had expected that the eldest son of Yang Hong, commander of the Wanquan Commandery, would abandon his men and flee alone!

Eunuch Guo spat in contempt, cursing, “Pah! That Yang is even worse than me!” Compared to Yang Jun’s cowardice, he himself had shown far more backbone at Yanghekou.

With Yang Jun’s flight, the soldiers who had still been resisting were doomed. Not only were they leaderless, but their will and courage to fight crumbled.

If even the commander had run, what was the point of staying to fight?

Someone shouted, “That dog of a commander’s abandoned us—brothers, let’s get out of here!”

At those words, the camp erupted. Many of the men had seen with their own eyes the commander they respected fleeing on horseback. Abandoned, filled with despair and rage, they could no longer face the Tartars. Within moments, hundreds turned and bolted for the gate.

...........

Author’s Note: I’ve noticed some readers think the story is progressing slowly and are frustrated that there’s been no moment of satisfaction yet. Let me explain: readers familiar with my previous works know there will be such moments, but in my stories, they do not come from some random, unrealistic cheat. They grow naturally from the plot, grounded in real history.

I am a traditional writer of historical fiction. If you prefer stories filled with fantastical cheats, this may not be the book for you—feel free to stop reading, but please refrain from leaving abusive comments. Thank you.

P.S.: Up to this point, all events described in this book are based on actual history. The Grand Eunuch Guo Jing, governor of Datong, did indeed survive by hiding in the grasslands at Yanghekou, but it was not until half a month later that he was able to meet Wang Zhen, after which the army changed course. As for Yang Jun abandoning Dushi, that is also historical fact. What follows is closely tied to the Tumu Crisis and to the protagonist’s rise.

If you find this work suits your taste and keeps you interested, please consider adding it to your collection and giving it a recommendation vote.