Mountain ranges stretched endlessly, with verdant grass carpeting the land as far as the eye could see!
Zhao Jing Zhong and his four companions, like hunted dogs fleeing for their lives, galloped north from the capital, covering hundreds of miles in a whirlwind of speed. After a sleepless night, they finally reached a mountain range three hundred miles north of Chengde, the closest point to the Mongol territory.
Having gone without rest, all four were weary, both man and beast.
Sitting in his saddle, Zhao Jing Zhong glanced back. A few figures, a mile behind, were still in hot pursuit.
“Damn it!”
Zhao Jing Zhong cursed through gritted teeth.
These individuals had shadowed them since their departure from the capital, yet instead of intercepting them, they kept a discreet distance.
Like a shadow mirroring their every move!
Who were they, and why were they merely following without attempting to kill?
What was their objective?
Zhao Jing Zhong felt a chilling dread, a prickling sensation of being watched.
“Your Excellency!”
One of his subordinates said, “Zhao Liu has already gone ahead to contact the Jurchen. We should receive reinforcements soon!”
Zhao Jing Zhong nodded, a glimmer of relief washing over him. With the Jurchen arriving, these trailing figures would be rendered powerless!
Just then, a distant, mournful whinnying of horses echoed.
From the left rear, a troop of horsemen came galloping at full speed. At first glance, they appeared to be almost a hundred strong.
“Not good!”
Zhao Jing Zhong exclaimed, then, with a sharp kick to his horse’s flanks, urged it to flee. However, their horses had been riding all night, and even with his urging, they could not gain much speed.
In the blink of an eye, the hundred-strong force had caught up to Zhao Jing Zhong. The group that had been shadowing him swiftly merged into their ranks.
Turning his head, Zhao Jing Zhong saw that the three at the front of this hundred-strong force were none other than Chen Ran, Ding Xiu, and Shen Lian!
The nearly one hundred men behind them were clad in iron armor, wielding long swords, some carrying long spears with wolf-tooth blades! They were unmistakably dressed in the garb of the Qi Family Army.
Zhao Jing Zhong froze, his pupils constricting in shock.
“Chen Ran!”
Chen Ran looked at Zhao Jing Zhong, a smile playing on his lips.
“Zhao Gonggong, surprised to see me? Are you surprised and delighted?”
Zhao Jing Zhong glared at Chen Ran, his voice laced with fury.
“You’re not dead! You’ve sent men to chase me for hundreds of miles. What are you trying to do?”
Chen Ran chuckled softly.
“Naturally, it’s to solidify the evidence of your treasonous betrayal, and then claim your head for my own merit!”
Zhao Jing Zhong's once handsome face contorted, revealing a twisted, menacing grin.
“Zhao's precious head is right here, on my neck. Chen Baohu, come and take it!”
But Chen Ran shook his head, a playful smile on his lips.
“You’re mistaken. It’s not Chen Baohu. It’s Chen Qianhu!”
He watched Zhao Jing Zhong's expression of bewilderment and surprise, a sly smile on his face. “But I’m sure that after I’ve claimed your head, I’ll be able to advance further. Perhaps ‘Chen Zongbing’ would be more fitting!”
Upon hearing those words, a look of utter dismay settled on Zhao Jing Zhong’s face.
He had never imagined that in just a few days, Chen Ran would have become the Acting Deputy Commander of the Northern Garrison.
And with his head in his hands, Chen Ran was destined for even greater promotions.
The thought sent a wave of hatred coursing through Zhao Jing Zhong, making his teeth clench in fury.
“An eunuch? Why bother, Brother Chen?”
Shen Lian and Ding Xiu spurred their horses forward, emerging from the ranks.
In a flash, the two men were in front of Zhao Jing Zhong and his companions. Three of Zhao Jing Zhong's subordinates drew their swords, charging towards them.
Just as they were about to reach them, Ding Xiu’s sword flashed, instantly severing the head of one of Zhao Jing Zhong's subordinates. Blood erupted like a fountain, and the horse, still bearing the rider’s lifeless form, stumbled and fell to the ground.
Ding Xiu then, with a swift sweep of his blade, cleaved the rider in half from the waist.
Shen Lian, with a furious charge, crossed paths with two of Zhao Jing Zhong’s subordinates. Two steel swords came down on him in a savage strike.
But Shen Lian, in a masterful display of agility, evaded both blades while simultaneously thrusting his sword sideways, piercing the rib cage of the enemy on his right.
In a heartbeat, two of Zhao Jing Zhong’s subordinates lay dead. The remaining one, terrified, turned his horse to flee but was met by a spear launched by Fang Cheng.
Thwack!
The spear, like a serpent, pierced through his body, sending him tumbling off his steed.
Seeing this, Zhao Jing Zhong’s face contorted with fear. From his back, he stealthily retrieved a flintlock pistol.
This was a "Lu Mi Chong," a firearm modified from a matchlock gun gifted to the Ming Dynasty by the kingdom of Lu Mi during the Wanli Emperor's reign. It could fire lead shot and had a range of one hundred and fifty meters!
Zhao Jing Zhong had just drawn the pistol and was about to ignite the match when Ding Xiu charged towards him, his Imperial Forest Army saber slashing down in a vicious arc. Zhao Jing Zhong, panicking, desperately crossed the pistol to deflect the blow.
Clang!
The six or seven-foot long Lu Mi Chong was severed in a single stroke by Ding Xiu’s saber. The blade’s tip then grazed across Zhao Jing Zhong’s chest, leaving a deep, gaping wound.
Zhao Jing Zhong was instantly knocked from his horse, his chest bleeding profusely.
Just then, the sound of horses galloping echoed from a distance.
From the mountain ranges to the north, a group of horsemen emerged, riding at breakneck speed.
These riders, each one a picture of rugged strength, were clad in furs and carried curved swords at their waists and bows and arrows on their backs. Some wore fur caps while others were bareheaded, revealing their scalps and a single, long braid trailing from the back of their heads.
They were Jurchen horsemen, and judging by their numbers, there were at least a hundred of them.
The Jurchen horsemen galloped down the mountainside, their leader bellowing, “Which one of you is the Ming eunuch invited by Li Yongfang to aid the Great Khan?”
A wave of joy washed over Zhao Jing Zhong. He hastily removed his cap.
As the cap came off, revealing his scalp, a thin, pigtail-like braid dangled from the back of his head.
“Bi Ba La Zhao Jing Zhong (I am Zhao Jing Zhong)!”
Upon hearing this, the Jurchen horsemen immediately spurred their steeds and charged towards Chen Ran and his companions!
After the Battle of Sarhu, where the Ming Dynasty suffered a catastrophic defeat, losing fifty thousand troops in five days, the Ming people lived in fear of the Jurchen.
The Later Jin boasted endlessly, proclaiming that a single Jurchen warrior could face ten or more Ming soldiers.
They even went so far as to say that the Jurchen could not be overcome by tens of thousands, that they were unbeatable.
The Jurchen warriors, with their blatant disdain for the Ming soldiers, would often dare to attack hundreds of Ming troops with mere dozens.
Even though these Jurchen horsemen were only as numerous as Chen Ran’s group, they showed no signs of fear, charging at them with reckless abandon, as if they were certain of victory.
Seeing the Jurchen charge, Zhao Jing Zhong's face lit up with hope.
Chen Ran, however, remained stoic. He turned to Shen Lian and Ding Xiu and said, “Kill Zhao Jing Zhong!”
Then, he turned to face Fang Cheng and the rest of the Qi Family Army's elite swordsmen.
“Form ranks!”
At his command, the nearly one hundred Qi Family Army swordsmen immediately formed into three ranks.
The first rank, thirty strong, wielded spears and wolf-tooth blades.
The second rank, also thirty strong, carried iron shields and long swords.
The third rank, again thirty strong, held cavalry sabers.
The Qi Family Army’s discipline was as rigid as iron, their movements as smooth as silk. In a flash, their ranks were perfectly formed.
Chen Ran sat regally in his saddle, his gaze cold and unwavering as he watched the Jurchen horsemen storm towards them.
This was the first time he would be facing Jurchen cavalry in a head-on confrontation.