Chapter Thirty-Three: A Lifeline

Just moments ago, the Ming soldiers, who had been fighting desperately for their lives, suddenly abandoned resistance and fled, catching the Tartars off guard. By the time the leading Tartar officers realized what was happening, over two hundred Ming soldiers had already reached the camp gates.

Along the way, tents burned everywhere, corpses of fallen Ming soldiers littered the ground, and the air was thick with choking smoke. So many Ming soldiers, frantic to escape, surged toward the gates, inevitably causing a stampede.

Many were simply pushed to the ground by their desperate comrades; some fierce soldiers, eyes bloodshot, slashed down anyone who blocked their path. Pity those who, in the midst of chaos, chose to stand and fight bravely rather than flee—they did not die at the hands of the Tartars, but fell beneath their own brothers’ blades.

In the turmoil, a Hundred House suddenly stopped, turned, and charged at the pursuing Tartars with sword raised, but his angry curses quickly faded into the night.

Some wounded Ming soldiers, unable to escape and unwilling to die at the hands of the Tartars, gritted their teeth and threw themselves into the roaring flames, their anguished screams before death chilling all who heard them.

The fire grew ever fiercer, tents collapsing under the relentless blaze. The smoke was suffocating, and now the air was tainted with the nauseating stench of burning flesh.

The Tartars seemed unconcerned about the escape of the remaining Ming soldiers. They followed at a distance, herding them out of the camp, dispatching those who lagged behind, and when they encountered those who turned to fight, they swarmed together, hacking them down in a frenzy.

“Your Excellency, hurry!”

Seeing the Ming soldiers already at the gates and the Tartars close behind, Lu Qing had no time to scold Yang Jun. Supporting Eunuch Guo, he rushed out of the camp.

Eunuch Guo was pale as death, muttering incoherently. Survival instinct made him cling tightly to Lu Qing, terrified that this young man might suddenly abandon him.

Dozens of Ming soldiers had already burst through the gates. Lu Qing’s experience fleeing from Yanghe made him wary of running alongside them. Yet, dragging the burdensome Eunuch Guo, he could not move fast. He had considered abandoning Guo to save himself, but each time he was about to let go, he gritted his teeth and held on tighter.

Lu Qing would never leave behind this one link to the court until the last moment. But with Guo unable to walk, how could he hope to escape the Tartars’ pursuit?

Horses!

Lu Qing’s gaze swept toward the military post in the distance—there were horses there!

The post was not far; Lu Qing quickly made up his mind—to run for the horses!

He had barely moved when an angry shout rang out behind him: “Get out of my way, or I’ll cut you down!”

He turned to see several Ming soldiers, bloodied and desperate, rushing toward them. Lu Qing’s heart tightened; that scene of Ming soldiers slashing each other for escape would haunt him forever. To survive, these blood-soaked men would do anything!

He instinctively gripped his long blade. Since arriving in this era, he had not yet killed anyone, but the body’s former owner had. He could die, but not like a coward.

If you want my life, ask my blade first!

“Young man, are you courting death?”

Eunuch Guo saw Lu Qing’s determined grip on his blade—clearly ready to fight those soldiers. In panic, he dragged Lu Qing aside.

Those Ming soldiers merely wanted to escape; they weren’t killing indiscriminately. Seeing Lu Qing retreat, they ignored him, heading straight for the fortress.

Other Ming soldiers, seeing people running toward the fortress, followed en masse. Lu Qing glanced at the fortress—chaos reigned within, but the walls remained in Ming hands. The Alash Army had not breached the defenses.

A thought struck him: perhaps fleeing into the fortress was wiser than heading for the horses. There were more Ming soldiers inside, and although some Tartars were causing havoc, with Commander Zhao Mei presiding, so long as the walls held, the outnumbered Tartars could not take the fortress.

Lu Qing hesitated, unsure whether to run for the fortress, when suddenly, hoofbeats sounded from ahead. Dozens of mounted Tartars charged out, swinging their blades at the fleeing Ming soldiers.

A scream split the night; the Ming soldier who had angrily ordered Lu Qing aside was caught unaware, his throat severed by a Tartar blade. His head rolled as blood spurted from his decapitated body.

“Oh, mother!”

Eunuch Guo had seen many deaths, but never so close—his eyes rolled back and he fainted.

Before the remaining Ming soldiers could cry out, the Tartars were upon them. They tried to fight, but the mounted Tartars gave them no chance. Moments later, several new corpses lay on the ground.

With these soldiers dispatched, the Tartars spread out to intercept those fleeing to the fortress. Two turned their horses toward Lu Qing.

Eunuch Guo had fainted at this critical moment; Lu Qing cursed inwardly, but could do nothing.

He had seen even worse horrors on the battlefield at Yanghe—the carnage, the blood, and the mutilated bodies had numbed his nerves. He no longer felt the urge to vomit or faint.

Survival instinct screamed at him to run—he could not save Guo or the other soldiers; he could only run.

Yet, for reasons unknown, he stood his ground, gripping his blade tightly.

His throat moved up and down, his heart trembled. Death terrified him—he was neither a saint nor a hero. But he did not run.

Eunuch Guo lay at his feet, the two Tartars approached, the sounds of distant fighting echoed, Yang Jun fled, and Emperor Zhu Qizhen himself was preparing to lead a campaign against the Tartars...

Countless fragments flashed through Lu Qing’s mind, and finally, he steeled himself: I won’t run—not from these two stinking Tartars! I was cowardly in my past life, but damn it, I won’t be cowardly again!

If I die, I die like a man!

If you want to kill me, let’s see if you have the skill!

His heart thudded wildly, but his grip on the blade tightened.

...........

The two Tartars expected Lu Qing to turn and flee, making their job easy. But to their surprise, he stood firm, blade in hand, staring at them.

Is this Chinese dog struck dumb with fear?

The leading Tartar grinned. He had seen many young Ming recruits like this—some froze in terror, others foolishly believed in their own skill.

But whether you’re the former or the latter, my blade, Batu’s blade, will show you what a true warrior is!

Batu, not considering Lu Qing a threat, raised his blade and charged without hesitation.

But just as Batu’s blade was about to fall, his mount suddenly reared up, neighing in panic. Man and horse crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, knocking the breath from Batu’s lungs.

Lu Qing had severed the horse’s foreleg; he then swung his blade at Batu’s chest. The Tartar wore no armor—Lu Qing’s blade struck deep into his ribs, the sound of flesh splitting audible.

Batu could not breathe. He watched as Lu Qing’s blade struck his chest three times, each blow sending fresh agony. He wanted to scream, but no sound came.

His vision blurred; his eyelids drooped. Before darkness claimed him, he saw his heart—a heart that had stopped beating, its fibrous membrane so clearly striated.

Batu’s death enraged his companion. With a wild cry, the other Tartar swung his blade at Lu Qing.

Lu Qing rolled aside; the Tartar cursed, turned his horse to attack again, but Lu Qing would not allow it. He dashed forward, swinging his blade at the Tartar’s back.

The Tartar, hindered by the horse, dismounted, roaring as he charged at Lu Qing.

Their blades clashed; Lu Qing was forced back a step.

The body’s previous owner had practiced martial arts but was not skilled, hence only a lowly Imperial Guard. Lu Qing’s past self had neither trained nor killed. Severing the horse’s leg was already a miracle; when he decided to strike the horse first, his heart nearly leapt from his throat. Had he missed, his own head would surely have rolled.

This Tartar was skilled; had he not been blinded by rage at his comrade’s death, Lu Qing could never have forced him off his horse. Now, regaining composure and superior skill, the Tartar would surely kill him in the next exchange.

The Tartar, pleased to see Lu Qing’s ordinary skill and strength, raised his blade to avenge Batu. But as he stepped forward, he suddenly froze, then crashed to the ground.

A crossbow bolt protruded from his back.

Lu Qing was overjoyed to see that Zhou Yunyi had struck down the Tartar. It was the second time Zhou had saved his life.

Alongside Zhou Yunyi came dozens of watchmen from Wanquan’s Right Guard. Their arrival was a lifeline for the panicked, fleeing Ming soldiers.