Chapter Thirty-six: In the Next Life, Still a Son of Han

May I be born a son of Han again in the next life!

Shi Dayong, who had lived his whole life without ever making a name for himself, and had never become the banner officer of a hundred households, was dead. He died with deep regret, unwilling to close his eyes.

I am a Han!

Just those five words left the Tartar soldier frozen, unmoving for a long while.

Han... Han...

Was being Han really so great? Was it truly something to be so proud of? Did it mean they should call us filthy Tartars?

The Tartar soldier muttered to himself, then his eyes flashed with malice. Pah! I am not a filthy Tartar, and you are no Han—you are a Han dog!

Ha! No matter how arrogant you Han dog may be, in the end you are but a ghost beneath the blade of a warrior from the grasslands!

...

"Good!"

At the moment Shi Dayong was beheaded, the Tartar officers rejoiced. They saw clearly that the only reason these Ming soldiers fought to the death without retreat was because someone was commanding them, and that banner officer was their backbone. With him dead, these Ming soldiers would surely collapse, just as they had when Commander Yang Jun ran off earlier.

But to their surprise, the death of the Ming banner officer did not cause these hastily gathered Ming troops to scatter—instead, each man fought even more desperately.

"Avenge the banner officer!"

At that moment, whether it was Shi Dayong's own men, the remnants of the Ming troops from the Left Garrison of Wanquan, the Night Watchers of the Right Garrison, or even the couriers, auxiliary soldiers, and menial workers who had come with Shi Dayong to kill Tartars, all were filled with grief and rage. They cried out to avenge Banner Officer Shi, gathering from all sides.

The Ming soldiers still dared to fight!

The Tartar officers were taken aback, quickly ordering their men to counterattack. With the border war at a critical moment, they dared not make the slightest mistake—otherwise, it would mean death and destruction for their entire clans!

Only by leading the main army through the pass could these children of the grasslands reclaim the glory of their ancestors, and restore the splendor of Great Yuan!

Han dogs, you have oppressed us for decades. Today, it is time for the descendants of Genghis Khan to take revenge!

From now on, we will never again shed the blood of our own kin—only the blood of Han dogs!

Kill, kill!

Slaughter every last Han dog! Follow the Grand Preceptor and the Lord of Zhiyuan, and let Ming know that the warriors of Great Yuan have returned!

...

With the Tartar officers in command, the Tartar soldiers soon steadied themselves.

The Ming soldiers were not much fewer in number than the Tartars, and there was no shortage of men unafraid of death. Even the menials and laborers gritted their teeth, fighting to the death without thought of fleeing, for they knew that if the Tartars broke through, none of them—regardless of station—would escape the slaughter. To run now was only to die sooner or later; since death was certain either way, why not fight the Tartars alongside brave men, so that death would not be in vain!

Compared to the disciplined command of the Tartar soldiers, the Ming side was much more chaotic. With no one to lead them, and drawn from diverse backgrounds, they were unfamiliar with one another. Though they fought bravely, it was a disorderly melee, unable to effectively threaten the Tartars.

The casualties were lopsided as well—the Ming soldiers lost three men for every Tartar they managed to kill. This was only thanks to the efforts of the Night Watchers, whose skill and courage allowed them to inflict some damage. Without those few dozen fearless Night Watchers, the Ming troops would have already collapsed and been slaughtered to the last man.

The Tartar officers, who had served in the Ming army since their forefathers’ time, understood the principle of "capture the leader to subdue the bandits" all too well. After killing the exemplary Shi Dayong and withstanding the Ming soldiers’ furious counterattack, the situation unfolded just as they expected: the Ming troops, though not fleeing outright, were as scattered as sand, fighting with nothing but borrowed courage and unable to change the tide. At this rate, wiping them out was only a matter of time.

One Tartar officer, who had colluded with the Zhiyuan Lord Ala outside the walls, could hardly contain his excitement. He had incited the Tartar soldiers within the Ming ranks to rebel, causing the Left Garrison’s three thousand Ming soldiers to collapse. For this alone, he would be greatly rewarded—after the battle, Lord Ala would at least grant him command of ten thousand households.

But who would complain about too much merit? With so many Ming heads in hand, Lord Ala would be all the more pleased, perhaps even granting him grasslands and followers. If they could defeat Ming, he might even govern a region of his own.

Dreaming of future wealth and glory, the Tartar officer grew ever more feverish. The stubborn resistance of the Ming soldiers before him was no longer his concern—he cared only for how Lord Ala would reward him.

By this point, both Tartar soldiers and officers had no doubt of victory. They were always the elite of the Ming army, rich in battlefield experience. They could see that these Ming troops were spent, and that victory was within reach if they pressed on a little longer.

Some, impatient, kept glancing back to see if the Oirat army outside the border had already taken Dushibao. At that moment, a loud voice rang out from the Ming ranks: "If you want to live, listen to me!"

"Everyone, gather together and charge for the fortress! Night Watchers and the Left Garrison at the front, the rest follow close behind—quickly, quickly!"

Who was that?

Hearing someone command the Ming troops, the Tartar officers were startled, thinking a Ming officer still remained. But scanning the ranks, they saw that the one giving orders was not an officer, but an ordinary soldier.

The beleaguered Ming soldiers paused at Lu Qing’s shout, but quickly realized that fighting like this was futile. They needed to concentrate their strength, or else be slowly dragged to death by the Tartars!

"Night Watchers, with me!"

In the chaos, Zhou Yunyi was surprised to hear Lu Qing’s call, but didn’t hesitate. He waved for Jiang Tong and his men to follow Lu Qing in a direct assault on the Tartars. The other Night Watchers quickly gathered, charging forward as one with them.

The scattered Ming troops from the Left Garrison, seeing this, broke away from the Tartars where they could and rushed to join Lu Qing’s group; those unable to shake off their foes did their best to hold them back, buying time for their comrades.

In this way, more than two hundred Ming soldiers gathered together, and under the lead of Lu Qing and the Night Watchers, charged forward with reckless abandon.

The Tartars facing them were caught off guard by the sudden concentrated assault and were unable to resist. After leaving behind over twenty corpses, the Ming soldiers ripped open the Tartar line.

Seeing the vanguard break through, the Ming soldiers behind erupted in cheers.

"Into the fortress!"

As they surged forward, Lu Qing nearly took an arrow to the face—luckily, he was quick, and the arrow only brushed past his cheek. The Night Watchers behind him loosed their crossbows and swung their blades, swiftly cutting down the twenty-odd Tartars in front.

With the Tartar line breached, Dushibao was less than a mile away, and still held by the Ming army. Lu Qing’s heart pounded wildly. This was his first real battle with the Tartars since coming to this era, his first time killing, and the first time he had no thought of running for his life—instead, he yearned only for victory.

He found the change in his own mindset startling. Perhaps the death of Banner Officer Shi Dayong had shaken him too deeply.

Seeing the Ming troops break through and dash for Dushibao, the leading Tartar officer was furious, waving his blade and ordering the retreating Tartars to "Hold them back! Stop them!"

But with most Tartars spread out on the flanks, only a few dozen blocked the way—far fewer than the charging Ming soldiers, and at the very front were the elite Night Watchers, whom the Tartars dreaded most.

Some Tartars, overcome by fear, turned and fled. The officer, enraged, cut down two who tried to run past him, then bellowed, "Any who retreat will be killed without mercy!"

Yet no matter how he threatened, the retreating Tartars lacked the courage to face the Ming in a desperate fight. After such fierce combat, both sides were exhausted. Had victory not been so close, and heavy rewards at stake, the Tartars would never have risked so much.

But now, with a sure victory suddenly slipping away, the Tartar soldiers lost heart. Some even wished the Ming would hurry into Dushibao—after all, Lord Ala’s great army outside was attacking the border, and these few Ming soldiers would have little effect inside. Why risk everything to stop them?

But the leading Tartar officer saw things differently. He knew that most of the rebel Tartars were from the Left Garrison; inside the fortress, although there were Tartar collaborators in the Kaiping Garrison, they were few—just a few dozen. After the fires were set, though panic would grip the Ming, they still outnumbered the traitors by far, with over five thousand men and Commander Zhao Mei in charge. Once the arsonists were killed, a detachment could put out the fires, and the rest could guard the walls; Dushibao would hold. If it were so easy to take, Lord Ala would not have paid in blood twice already. As long as the Ming did not panic, Dushibao was as solid as a mountain.

The only way to take the fortress was to shatter the Left Garrison outside in one blow, so that the Ming inside received no reinforcements and were left confused, uncertain of what was happening. Then, attacking Dushibao at night with his men, coordinating with the traitors within, the Ming defenders would collapse without a fight.

But if these Ming soldiers reached the fortress, the defenders would know the Left Garrison’s Tartars had rebelled, and the loyalists would have no thought of abandoning the fortress. If they simply held till dawn, the situation would be settled, and then it would be easy to send troops to wipe out the rebel Tartars outside.

So under no circumstances could the Ming be allowed into the fortress. Otherwise, not only would Lord Ala’s promised riches vanish, but his own head would be in jeopardy.

Resolving himself, the Tartar officer shouted to the others racing up, "After them!"

The other officers, realizing the consequences, hurried to lead their men in pursuit.

As the Tartars closed in, some exhausted Ming soldiers lagged behind and were cut down, but most had already drawn near Dushibao. Some shouted to the defenders on the walls, "Open the gate! Open the gate! We’re from the Left Garrison!"

But amid the sounds of battle atop the wall and the shouts and chaos within, there was no response from the defenders. In the firelight, the Ming soldiers looked up and their faces changed—there were no defenders on the wall.

What was happening?

As the Ming soldiers stood in confusion, the gates of the fortress suddenly swung open, and countless cavalrymen charged out. The riders, seeing Lu Qing and the Ming soldiers outside, were startled, but before they could react, a cry came from the rear: "The Tartars have broken the fortress—run!"