Section Nineteen

Bringing with them a look of surprise from Lin Feng, Jamuha said gravely, “Prince of the Han, Galdan has brought no fewer than one hundred and fifty thousand men. What do you think he means to do? Surely you cannot be unaware!”

“What he means to do has what to do with me?” Lin Feng had now recovered himself. Glancing at Wang Shirong, drenched in sweat beside him, he turned and smiled. “This is a matter for you Mongols. I cannot concern myself with it.”

“Is that so?” Jamuha let out a dry laugh and spread his hands in helplessness. “If Galdan means to enter the great grassland of Hulunbuir, he must first flatten the Chahar. Surely the Chahar is not beyond your concern?” He cast a glance at Wang Shirong. “Besides, we have also heard that in addition to marching on the Tushiyetu, Galdan has sent a force of heavy cavalry into Shanxi. We hear that Yu Chenglong, the Qing governor there, has also suffered a defeat. That is your Han people’s territory; surely Your Highness cannot be indifferent to that either?”

It seemed he had encountered a silver-tongued advocate. Lin Feng was somewhat astonished for a moment, unable to understand how such a Mongol had emerged, speaking and bearing himself in the manner of a Confucian scholar. It looked as though he would be hard-pressed to gain any advantage in argument, and so he said with a wry smile, “Enough. Today ten or twenty thousand have died, and here we are still chattering on in this lukewarm fashion. How tedious.” He sighed. “Very well. Where has Galdan reached now?”

Jamuha put away his teasing expression and said solemnly, “To answer the Prince of Han, according to news from the Tushiyetu side, Galdan has committed his whole force this time and won his first battle against the Tushiyetu army. He has already occupied Hohhot and is now at the northern foot of the Great Wall, facing off at a distance with your army in Datong. His vanguard has already crossed the pastures of the Four-Tumet tribe and is pressing deeper into Hulunbuir...”

“So your prince means for our two sides to join hands and deal with this northwestern wolf first?” Lin Feng interrupted, a strange look on his face. It was truly laughable and infuriating at once: sworn enemies by day, allies by night. The world was indeed a wondrous place.

Holding back his smile with some effort, he nodded. “Yes, yes. If this is the will of the Eternal Blue Sky, then it can scarcely be wrong. Your people are so... so devout. I am truly in awe.”

Jamuha blushed, then bowed slightly and said respectfully, “If the Prince of Han is willing, tonight we shall move out together, wipe out these remaining Manchu rebels, and then cut our wrists and swear brotherhood, joining to resist the Dzungars!”

“Is that so? Then very good! I have no objections,” Lin Feng said cheerfully. “Only, I am rather timid. Once night falls, I generally do not dare go out. I wonder whether Prince Buliyagema has any clever plan?”

“The Prince of Han is too modest. Since this plan was proposed by our Khorchin people, we will certainly show you our sincerity. Please rest assured, Your Highness.” Jamuha ignored Lin Feng’s teasing and said with gravity, “Before I came out, our prince had already made all preparations. At present, fewer than eight thousand of those Eight Banners troops remain, encamped on the right side of the main camp. At the third watch tonight, we will first send men to set fire to the fortifications, then the army will strike, blocking their retreat and driving them toward Your Highness’s position.” He brought his hands together to form a gesture of encirclement, then lifted one palm and slashed downward hard. “We do not ask Your Highness to do anything. When the time comes, you will naturally know what to do!”

After this shameless political bargain was struck, Jamuha slipped quietly back. To be honest, Lin Feng was half skeptical of the whole affair. His chief doubt was whether Galdan’s army had truly come. If that were indeed the case, then the Khorchin’s word could be counted as credible enough; but if the news proved false, then this was nothing but a trap to lure in the Han army.

Even so, Lin Feng immediately ordered the whole army to stand by. By the third watch, the allied camp opposite indeed burst into flames on cue. Pinpoints of fire grew swiftly into a great blaze, and before long the entire sky was reflected in red. Soon the camp rang with uproar; the bewildered Eight Banners soldiers scurried about like headless flies, horses neighing as they burst from the stables and raced wildly across the ground. The sound of powder igniting and exploding shook the heavens, while fiery streaks shot up now and then like meteors, blossoming in the night sky into brilliant bursts of fireworks.

Holding a single-tube telescope, Lin Feng watched closely. By now he was certain that the Khorchin had kept their promise, for by his estimate the horses lost by the allied force already exceeded three thousand, and they were all tall Liaodong warhorses, precisely the standard mount of the Eight Banners cavalry.

Soon the shouts of killing rose to the heavens. In the rear of the allied force, hooves thundered like drums; blazing rockets shot out like rain, and the right flank of the camp, already choked with fire and smoke, was beyond saving. Large numbers of Eight Banners soldiers fled in disorder on foot toward the Han army’s lines. Lin Feng could see clearly that these troops had lost not only their horses but all their arms as well, even their swords. Many were half-dressed, scorched and frantic, gathering in knots and fleeing blindly in all directions.

Not giving them the slightest chance to catch their breath, the Mongol heavy cavalry appeared like ghosts on both sides of the camp, shouting as they charged in. Bowstrings snapped in disarray, long arrows darkened the sky, and in an instant the outer troops were shot into porcupines. The iron tide rolled and thundered, cutting wildly through the very comrades they had faced moments before. Behind them, the camp blazed fiercely, dyeing this battlefield red. Upon the Han army’s fortifications, tens of thousands of Han soldiers stood solemnly, unable to believe the slaughter unfolding before their eyes.

Then suddenly a bleak bugle sounded from the Qing camp. The drums were faint, struggling to carry across the battlefield. Out of the sea of fire, several thousand cavalrymen burst forth. A battle banner, sparkling with sparks, still fluttered in the wind. Thousands of men shouted in fury, for a moment drowning out the cry of the Mongol host. Lin Feng quickly raised his telescope. Unlike the panic-stricken fugitives from before, this troop of Eight Banners iron cavalry, though likewise disordered and lacking complete weapons and armor, wore expressions of rage and despair. They hurled themselves at the Mongol horsemen charging back and forth, fierce warriors without any restraint, fighting like men who meant only to exchange one life for another. In just a few breaths they had actually broken through the Mongol encirclement and were charging straight toward the Han lines.

“Pongchun!... It’s Pongchun!” Ma Ying, standing rigidly at Lin Feng’s side, suddenly changed color and cried out at the top of his lungs. “My lord!... That is Pongchun!”

Lin Feng narrowed his eyes and carefully examined the two tattered banners on the battlefield. Then he smiled and said, “Good. Then General Ma, please help our brothers recover their justice!”

Ma Ying, excited beyond measure, shouted his acknowledgment at once, sprang onto his horse, and led several thousand Han cavalry roaring out toward the field. Iron hooves shattered the silence before the lines, trampling the Eight Banners stragglers who had somehow escaped the Mongol encirclement into a paste of flesh and bone. The Han cavalry met the remnants of the Banner horsemen head-on, thousands of sabers flashing, and at once heads rolled as whole ranks of the enemy were cut down.

When he looked up again, the Qing troops had come within the range of the Han muskets. Suddenly, the cavalry reined in. Their leader dismounted and knelt on the ground, crying hoarsely, “Prince of Han! I am Sabsu, and I wish to enter your service!”

Lin Feng looked at Sabsu in confusion, at a loss for what to say. But Rick suddenly stepped forward from the crowd and shouted, “General Sabsu, if you and your men intend to surrender, then lay down your arms and walk over slowly!”

At Rick’s call, Sabsu hurriedly ordered his men. Several thousand Qing soldiers at once dismounted, threw down their weapons, and came forward on foot. For a moment’s delay, however, a large detachment of Mongol heavy cavalry had already reached them, nearly at the backs of the remaining Eight Banners troops. The Han artillery on the hill immediately fired warning shots. Helpless, the Mongol cavalry all reined in, watching grimly as this cavalry force of the Eight Banners surrendered in the very midst of battle.

Before they had even drawn near, Sabsu and his several thousand soldiers again prostrated themselves, black masses filling the ground. “Prince of Han! This sinner Sabsu begs to surrender!”

Under the protection of the imperial guard, Lin Feng rode slowly down the hill. When he came near, he laughed. “General Sabsu, please rise. I have long admired your name. To meet you today is indeed a fortunate thing.”

At this moment Sabsu was in a wretched state, with not a trace left of a famed general’s bearing. His face was blackened with smoke and dust; his eyes were red and filled with tears. Hearing Lin Feng’s teasing, he suddenly lifted his head and gazed directly at him, clasping his hands as he said, “Your Highness, this subordinate knows his crimes are grave indeed and cannot be forgiven by the Han army. This head of mine shall be presented to Your Highness shortly. But I beg you to spare these children of the Manchus!”

Lin Feng was stunned. “I never said I was going to kill you!”

He glanced at the black mass of men behind Sabsu, then let out a long sigh. “Sabsu has long guarded the frontier, and everyone says you are a true hero. I never imagined you would surrender.”

At this, Sabsu could endure no longer. Tears overflowed from his fierce eyes. Grinding his teeth, he said bitterly, “Your Highness does not know. Since last year, this war has never ceased. First we fought the Russians, then we came against Your Highness. By now, our Manchu Eight Banners have long since withered away. At present, the only able-bodied men left are these behind me!” His face showed endless pain and helplessness. “If Sabsu surrenders, it only sullies one man’s reputation and defiles one man’s grave. But if Sabsu does not surrender, then the sacrifices of our Jurchen ancestors will be severed, and the bloodline of the Manchus will be ended!”

Deeply moved, Lin Feng turned to Wang Shirong.

At that moment, the sounds of slaughter in the front battlefield were gradually dying down. With Sabsu’s largest remnant force having surrendered, most of the other Qing troops had already been annihilated by the combined Mongol and Han cavalry. Only a few hundred Qing soldiers still fought on, their banners in tatters but their weapons still moving. Looking closely, they were faintly under Pongchun’s banner.

“Sabsu, go and persuade Pongchun. Tell him to surrender as well,” Lin Feng sighed softly. He raised a hand, ordering Sabsu to stand and follow, then lightly nudged his horse and led his bodyguard toward the battlefield.

From the beginning of the charge until now, Ma Ying’s troops had fought for nearly half an hour. Pongchun’s cavalry was steadily dwindling; from nearly two thousand men they had been reduced to barely two hundred, yet still could not be destroyed. The remaining Eight Banners horsemen were all superb riders and formidable fighters, and the horses beneath them were likewise magnificent. Though they could not break out of the encirclement, neither could they be trapped to death. Now the allied Mongol and Han forces were tightening the ring with perfect coordination, their space to maneuver growing ever narrower, yet the enemy still fought on, each man seeming mad, killing and dying in a frenzy.

Looking up, Pongchun was right before them. His armor was in disarray, his condition miserable; his face, black and red with blood and grime, had broken arrows sticking from his shoulders, back, arms, ribs, even his limbs in many places. No one knew how many shafts had struck him. Blood streamed from him in trickles, staining even his horse a deep red. His long queue had been cut off at some unknown point; now his hair flew loose in the wind. As he galloped, he shouted like a mad tiger, throwing himself again and again into the melee.

For reasons he could not himself explain, seeing his enemy in such a state made Ma Ying feel a strange surge of admiration. When Pongchun charged again, he checked his horse and cried out, “Pongchun, you damned bastard, you are a real man. I, Ma Ying, admit it to you. Why not surrender?”

Pongchun let out a long, miserable laugh and slashed fiercely at the enemy soldier beside him. “Pongchun will not surrender!...”

Bowstrings rang in unison; feathered arrows flew through the air. Pongchun was struck again. He swung back with a blade and snapped the shaft, blood spraying from him as if he did not notice. Laughing wildly, he turned his long saber and cut down another Mongol rider. His warhorse, like a dragon, charged and trampled furiously, smashing the unsaddled horse blocking his path and hurling it away. Behind him, hoofbeats thundered as yet another large troop of cavalry arrived. A great banner bearing the character for Han fluttered high overhead. One general rode to the front and cried out, weeping, “Pongchun... I am Sabsu. Surrender to the Prince of Han!” Seeing Sabsu covered in blood, Pongchun burst into tears and cried aloud, “Leave a little of our Manchu strength alive... surrender!”

Hearing this, Pongchun turned back and looked at Sabsu. Suddenly he roared in fury, his eyes so red they seemed about to bleed. “Pongchun will not surrender!...”

Then, all at once, a long arrow flew in from the side and struck the horse in the foreleg. The horse neighed in agony and could no longer support itself; it staggered and rolled to the ground, flinging Pongchun far away. His body rolled again and again before finally stopping when his head crashed hard against a horse carcass. In an instant, several hundred Mongol and Han horsemen closed in and surrounded him tightly at the core.

After struggling for a long while, Pongchun leaned on his saber and slowly got to his feet, shaking his head in confusion as he looked around. Hundreds of iron cavalry formed an impenetrable ring; a hundred bows were drawn at once, all sights fixed squarely on him. Lin Feng rode forward slowly and said gently, “General Pongchun, your army now has not the slightest chance of victory. Why not surrender to me and make provision for the future of the Manchu Eight Banners?”

Pongchun clenched his teeth. His tall, powerful body trembled uncontrollably, blood gushing from him and pooling on the ground in the blink of an eye. He stared at Lin Feng and kept shaking his head, saying with difficulty, “Pongchun... will not surrender!... Pong...chun... will not surrender!...” Then suddenly he lifted his face to the sky and gave a long howl, raising his saber with all his strength as though to charge straight at Lin Feng.

With a soft sound, arrows flew together. The fierce impact hurled his body backward. He fell heavily to the ground. Pongchun tried to raise his head and cast a regretful glance at Lin Feng, then his saber slipped from his hand and lay still.

The north wind moaned. The earth lay peaceful.