Volume One: Is There a Path for Mortal Men Amidst Chaos? Chapter 32: Tempering the Army II

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The Yuan cavalry did not launch a direct charge. They circled before the trenches, retreated several miles away amid the roar of artillery. After a pause, they split into more than a dozen companies, raised their shields, and advanced under cover.

Wen Huaguo, aside from urging the cannons and archers to keep firing, had no other recourse. He could only watch as the Yuan army drew closer step by step, clearing iron caltrops, removing barriers, filling trenches, pushing down fences and chevaux de frise. His soldiers were too weak to risk an attack outside the camp. The eight hundred veteran troops were the backbone of the entire army and could not be dispatched lightly.

As he grew anxious, Deng She sent up the arquebusiers. The leader, the newly appointed vice commander of the arquebusiers, was Lu Qianwu, elder brother of Lu Qianshi'er. Among the bandits, he was the sole official by birth, formerly a craftsman supervisor at the Grand Route Arsenal. Since he specialized in firearms, Deng She put him to good use.

Arriving before the camp gate, Lu Qianwu commanded four hundred arquebusiers, forming them into three ranks, patiently waiting for the Yuan troops to enter range, then firing in rotation.

From a thousand paces, the cannons thundered, followed by arquebus fire, and at a hundred paces, the arrows flew. The Yuan soldiers’ shields could not withstand this; they fell like wheat, row upon row. Yet they fought on, silent and unyielding, advancing with a fierce bravery that was awe-inspiring.

Behind their infantry formation, the Yuan archers and arquebusiers answered in kind, not to be outdone. For a time, the clash of the armies was deafening, fire illuminating the night, smoke thick, arrows whistling like locusts.

The Yuan troops faced the wind; the arquebuses were tolerable, but the power of their arrows was greatly diminished. Deng She’s forces were mostly new recruits, their archery skills truly lacking. In comparison, neither side had much advantage.

Wen Huaguo stood before the archers, his gold-plated hammer gleaming in the muzzle flashes, drawing the attention of bullets and arrows alike. Everyone knew he must be a high-ranking officer.

Sensing danger, he quickly discarded his hammer and cursed, “Damn these Tartars, a bunch of paupers—never seen gold before?” Seeing the Yuan army pressing closer, with most trenches and chevaux de frise destroyed, he drew his curved sword and glared fiercely at the pale-faced soldiers beside him, “The general’s order: anyone who retreats a step, from me downward, will be executed!”

He threw off his helmet, letting his hair fly wildly in the wind, and shouted with ferocity, “Today, death is all that awaits! Spearmen forward, axemen in the center, archers fall back and keep shooting!”

With Wen Huaguo urging them ahead and Zhao Guo supervising from behind, the soldiers had no choice but to obey and form ranks.

Lu Qianwu judged the Yuan army’s distance and signaled his men to retreat to the archers’ side. The first wave of Yuan attacks soon ended—of a thousand infantry, dozens were killed or injured, but they succeeded in destroying the camp’s outer defenses.

Before the command tent, He Guangxiu, confident and fawning, boasted to Deng She, “The second wave will surely be cavalry.”

He looked unconcerned, which irked Huang Lü Ge, who sneered, “Obvious.” Facing the enemy, he suppressed his dissatisfaction with Deng She and said, “Master Deng, the Tartars have come from afar and are weary. Why not seize the opportunity to counterattack?”

“The infantry are tired, not the cavalry,” Deng She watched the battle at the camp gate intently. “The enemy focuses on the gate—there may be a feint elsewhere.” He ordered, “Generals Guan and Luo, hold your positions. Without orders, do not move a step.”

Before he finished speaking, the Yuan cavalry suddenly moved.

They split off a column of a hundred or so, clad in mesh armor, iron helmets, horses with protective skirts, each man wielding a two-meter spear in his left hand. Galloping forward, they raised their right hands and threw short spears. The Red Turbans who failed to dodge were pierced and nailed to the ground. Under this cover, two hundred Yuan infantry advanced with battering rams, aiming for the sturdy camp walls.

After throwing their spears, this cavalry unit wheeled and retreated.

Another hundred light cavalry charged, hurling spears. Clearly, the Yuan commanders saw that arrows were ineffective and switched tactics. Again and again, the Red Turbans suffered, unable to leave the camp and forced to endure the assault. Screams echoed, some even cried out in terror. Wen Huaguo, hearing this, ordered his guards to drag out the wailers and shouted, “On the field, anyone who spreads panic and disrupts morale will be executed!”

He swung his blade, heads rolled. Kicking the headless corpses aside, his guards raised the severed heads and paraded them before the troops.

The bloody spectacle reminded the recruits of their identity—they were soldiers, not refugees. Wen Huaguo pressed the advantage, shouting again, “The Tartars are ruthless, every army they defeat is slaughtered to the last! If you want to live, follow my orders! How many Tartars are there? We have ten thousand rested troops, victory is certain!”

Morale lifted somewhat.

A messenger rushed from the command tent, shouting, “The Grand Commander orders: kill an enemy, gain third-class merit, a bolt of silk, and three strings of cash!”

He had barely finished when another messenger arrived, “The Grand Commander orders: capture an enemy alive, gain second-class merit, two bolts of silk, six strings of cash!”

A third messenger followed, “The Grand Commander orders: if you capture or kill an enemy and are wounded, you will be rewarded first-class—three bolts of silk, ten strings of cash!”

Behind the command tent, Deng She’s three hundred guards shouted in unison, “The Grand Commander orders: whoever can disrupt the enemy formation, causing defeat, will be rewarded as extraordinary merit. Captains promoted one rank, lieutenants two ranks, soldiers three ranks!” They repeated this three times, their voices carried by the wind throughout the camp.

Severe punishments, then generous rewards—among ten thousand new recruits, surely some would be bold and fierce. Hearing these orders, spirits soared. If one could achieve such merit, they could be a commander overnight!

The Yuan cavalry, a thousand strong, attacked in ten waves, each done in an instant. With the spears spent, axes arrived. The cavalry came and went swiftly, immune to arrows and arquebuses, while the Red Turbans inside the camp struggled to hold on.

The repeated cavalry charges were the Yuan army’s standard tactic. Wen Huaguo knew well that if the gate wavered, the Yuan horsemen would immediately surge in. He beat and kicked, urging his guards to carry out the fallen and wounded Red Turbans, cursing Lu Qianwu, “You damn fool, aim properly! Did I tell you to shoot at the wall? I haven’t seen you take down a single Tartar horseman!”

Lu Qianwu smiled wryly, his temperament calm, never angered, and unwilling to explain. In these circumstances, how could he aim accurately? Of his four hundred arquebusiers, only a hundred were veterans. Their deterrence kept the Yuan army from storming the camp immediately—already a considerable feat.

——

The Yuan cavalry finished another wave, yet did not rush to attack. They split into two groups, riding back and forth outside the camp, shooting arrows from horseback. Unlike the infantry archers, they were closer and more skilled, inflicting far greater casualties.

The walls near the camp gate, after repeated Yuan attacks, were battered and many sections were about to collapse.

Chen Hu, arrayed behind Wen Huaguo, saw this clearly and knew a full-scale Yuan assault was imminent. He calmly turned, his face grave, and said, “Soldiers, advance for reward, retreat and die. All centurions, follow their banners.”

A tremendous crash, a section of the wall broke. The enemy infantry withdrew like a tide, cavalry stormed the camp. Before the command tent, He Guangxiu was suddenly overjoyed.

Wen Huaguo dropped his sword, picked up his hammer again, and shouted, “If you have anything between your legs and a backbone, stand firm for me!”

The Yuan cavalry crashed in, dozens of heavy horsemen in front. Spears and pikes snapped, men trampled to death. In moments, they penetrated dozens of meters into the camp, unstoppable. Blood and flesh flew, screams of the dying, heads tossed, limbs scattered everywhere.

“Supervisors, anyone who retreats a step, execute!” Wen Huaguo’s blood surged, his finger pointed, his face a mask of fury; then he pointed his hammer behind, shouting hoarsely to inspire, “Don’t you know, you’re not alone—behind you are eight thousand tiger warriors!”

Wen Huaguo stood at the front, archers and arquebusiers retreated another five hundred meters. With the enemy and allies mixed, Lu Qianwu could not continue shooting. He turned to see the command tent’s flag waving, ordering him back.

He Guangxiu approached Deng She, bowed deeply, and declared loudly, “General, I have a strategy that will break the enemy!”

Several hundred paces before the command tent, campfires burned, Chen Hu observed the battle. The Yuan cavalry rampaged through Wen Huaguo’s formation, spearing and hooking at will.

Their spears, inherited from the Song, had iron necks with hooks; every pull brought back an enemy. The Red Turbans dragged out were flung several meters, often knocking down more nearby soldiers.

Wen Huaguo’s formation, in less than half an hour, was overturned, horses and men in chaos, utterly broken. The timid dropped their weapons and fled, all cut down by Zhao Guo. Chen Hu took his bow, aimed at the fiercest Yuan cavalry, three arrows, three hits. Since the cavalry entered, they’d suffered no losses, but now casualties began.

Wen Huaguo seized the moment, raised his flag, and reorganized the defense. Under the threat of the supervisors’ bright axes, and with courageous men leading the charge, the line barely held.

The thick scent of blood drifted in the wind, reaching the command tent. Deng She withdrew his gaze from the gate, masking his tension and unease. Turning to He Guangxiu, he asked, “What strategy?”

“It’s dark and windy, our backs to the hill. General, I suggest sending troops to gather sand from the hill, scatter it into the wind. Then…” He paused mysteriously, grinning smugly.

No wonder he was pleased—such a plan was rare. Huang Lü Ge was shocked; Deng She was overjoyed, nearly cursing with delight. He Guangxiu finished, “Then the Tartars face the wind, we have it at our backs…”

Deng She cut him off, ordered his guards and a thousand troops to slash open tents for containers, all sent to fetch sand from the hill.

Glancing at the nearby Koryo soldiers, Deng She interrupted He Guangxiu’s rambling, “General He, take your men to the hill, dig with knives and axes. If tents aren’t enough, use your clothes! If this plan breaks the enemy, it’s a great merit!”

He Guangxiu accepted loudly, swaggering away.

Deng She ordered Lu Qianwu, “Have your men ready with powder; when the sand flies, open fire!” Still dissatisfied, he assembled all skilled archers for readiness. The rest sharpened blades, preparing to strike amid the chaos.

He beat drums, raised flags, strictly ordered Wen Huaguo not to retreat an inch, lest the line break before the sand arrived. With arrangements made, he could not contain his joy, cursing secretly, “This bastard is truly useful.” Sweat clenched in his palm, the outcome hung on this move.

Deng She knew well—judging from the gate’s battle, relying on these recruits to hold the enemy was nearly impossible. Without a clever plan, victory was out of reach.

He always sought stability, so before the enemy arrived, he pondered repeatedly. Yet when battle raged, the fiercer it grew, the calmer he became. Thus, though the gate was about to fall, he stood unmoved. As for why the cavalry hadn’t moved, he didn’t bother to think. He trusted his men and did what he could; worrying served no purpose, only distracted him. By his judgment, it wasn’t yet time to deploy the cavalry.

The hill backed the rear camp, the command tent was close, so movement was swift. Soon, the two thousand dispatched returned in succession. Deng She entrusted the task of scattering sand to He Guangxiu, but waited for the right moment; the enemy cavalry had not yet fully entered.

He beat drums, raised flags, ordered Wen Huaguo’s troops to slowly retreat, letting the enemy into the camp. By now, Chen Hu’s unit was already at the front, and after half an hour of fighting, Wen and Chen’s four thousand men had suffered over a thousand casualties. Among recruits, such losses meant they could barely hold, even if Deng She forbade retreat.

The Yuan cavalry howled in formation, sometimes scattering, sometimes regrouping, disrupting Wen and Chen’s lines and surging hundreds of meters into the camp, through the gate. Outside, the enemy infantry, rested, formed ranks and followed with shouts.

He Guangxiu’s eight hundred men, paired off, climbed the tent frames, flagpoles, or made human ladders. At Deng She’s command, they scattered sand, the strong wind whipping up clouds that spread across the camp, like a yellow dragon, sweeping over the tents, pouring onto the front lines.

“Beat drums, order Wen and Chen’s troops to lie flat!”

“Order: arquebusiers and archers, advance and fire!”

The sudden change caught everyone off guard.

Wen and Chen, trusting Deng She, obeyed instantly. Centurions and lieutenants shouted, disregarding the Yuan cavalry’s trampling, and in the raging sandstorm, the soldiers lay flat. Some panicked and ran, only to be beheaded by the supervisors or shot by friendly fire.

The sand blinded the cavalry’s eyes, but more critically, it blinded their horses. Arquebus and arrows fired wildly, startling the mounts into leaping and charging into each other. Many cavalrymen lost their balance and were thrown.

——

As gunfire and arrows ceased, Wen Huaguo and Chen Hu led the axemen, covering their mouths and noses against the sand, charging forward, hacking and chopping. Yuan cavalrymen on the ground could not open their eyes or breathe, dropped their weapons, drew short swords by instinct, but caught amid gunfire, arrows, and axes, could not survive.

Deng She led his guards and main force, joining the attack. Their numbers were overwhelming, the enemy trapped in the sandstorm, unable to defend, killed like cutting melons.

The Yuan troops outside the camp, unprepared for this upheaval, halted in panic as the sand spread around them. Their attacking formation shifted to a circular one, instantly switching from offense to retreat. Li Heshang, lying in wait outside, had long been eager to charge; were it not for Lu Qianshi’er’s repeated restraint, he would have stormed out when Chen Hu’s unit moved up.

Now, with a command, nine hundred cavalry emerged from behind the hill, ignoring the Yuan inside the camp, plunging straight into the enemy infantry outside.

The Yuan infantry numbered around five thousand. Most Red Turban cavalry were novices. Despite the sandstorm advantage, casualties were few, but they killed few enemies as well. Several charges failed to penetrate the line. As the sandstorm abated, the Yuan troops remained solid, weapons bristling, archers and arquebusiers at the center. Li Heshang, frustrated, recalled his boasts before the battle—if he failed to break the enemy now, he’d have no face left in the army.

He led his junior Li Zifan and a dozen monk soldiers at the front, taking the brunt. Lu Qianshi’er followed, guarding the flanks. Inch by inch they fought, when suddenly, a volley of gunfire erupted, and the army shouted, “The Tartar cavalry have all been destroyed! The mighty Song, wherever the Grand Commander leads, those who submit live, those who resist die!”

With the cries, countless heads were hurled into the Yuan infantry ranks. Wen Huaguo had two cannons dragged out, firing into the enemy. Though only two guns, the effect was small, but in the confusion, with gunfire and arrows, the threat was great.

The Yuan infantry formation gradually could not withstand the assault. As they retreated, they stumbled over cavalry heads, morale plummeting.

“By Heaven’s grace, the Grand Commander orders: those who surrender will be treated well; those who kill officers who refuse to surrender will be appointed to their rank.” Deng She ordered Guo and Luo’s troops to join the attack. Li Heshang struck one flank, eight thousand men attacked two sides, a thousand shouted. The last flank was left open, flags feigned, a gap in the net.

The enemy’s elite—Deng She feared they’d fight to the death to break out, risking losses.

Li Heshang felt resistance lessen, chaos grew in the Yuan ranks. Drumbeats, horns, officers’ curses, soldiers’ cries—all reached his ears. In the sand-blurred night, he could barely see, only vague Red Turban banners everywhere. The army was a mix of forces, and though skilled, their orders often conflicted.

Li Heshang’s attack soon triggered internal disorder. One section affected another, like an ant’s nest collapsing a dam, almost simultaneously the whole formation fell into turmoil. Flags dropped, banners dragged, trampled by their own men. The Red Turbans broke through like bamboo, and surrender began.

A Yuan detachment, accurately judging Deng She’s feigned positions, led by several brave commanders, broke out, ignoring the rest, and departed.

Deng She saw this and praised, “Unflinching in danger, knowing when to advance and retreat. When defeat was clear, they withdrew decisively; amid chaos, they judged my army’s real strength. Truly elite troops.” He felt lingering fear at the Yuan army’s prowess and strictly forbade pursuit. He concentrated on finishing the surrounded enemy.

Through the night’s fierce battle, dawn broke.

Around two thousand Yuan troops escaped, the rest finally gave up, surrendering in droves. A few officers fought on, killed by the Red Turbans or torn apart by their own men.

Amidst the chaos, Wen Huaguo’s face was smeared with mud and blood, hair disheveled, cloak in tatters. Seated on a captured horse, he raised his golden hammer and laughed loudly, “General, the wind favored us—victory indeed!”

He Guangxiu was even more delighted, his face filthy but full of pride, standing behind Deng She, ecstatic, “Great merit! Great merit!” He glanced at Huang Lü Ge, meaning clear: though he could not be a full commander, a deputy post was nearly certain. He was so pleased he danced with joy.

Huang Lü Ge turned away, refusing to see his smug face. He seethed—sharing rank with such a lowly fellow, even lacking his own troops, was a humiliation.

Deng She, unaware of their thoughts, gazed at the battlefield strewn with corpses, victorious Red Turbans, and kneeling Yuan troops begging for mercy. Reflecting on the battle and the Yuan army’s strength, he repeatedly thanked his luck, joy and awe mingled, his heart surging.

In the eastern sky, a red sun rose, dispelling days of gloom. Banners fluttered, the wind still cold, but armor was warm.

——

1. Arsenal Craftsman Supervisory Office.

The Yuan dynasty specialized in warfare and always emphasized weapon manufacturing.

Firearms were deeply influenced by the Song, with Hui participation, and were highly advanced. Centrally, there was the Armory Institute; locally, Arsenal Craftsman Supervisory Offices and Arsenal Bureaus were established in every route, overseeing various manufacturing bureaus in subordinate prefectures and counties, covering the whole country.

2. Three-stage firing method.

First recorded in history as used by Zhu Yuanzhang’s adopted son, Mu Ying, when defeating enemies in Yunnan. However, this was not long after the Yuan’s great turmoil, and both Yuan troops and various rebel armies used firearms extensively. Perhaps this firing method had already appeared then.

3. Yuan cavalry.

They carried a bow, an axe, a sword, a spear, and always a file (for sharpening crossbows). Skilled archers carried two or three bows, as well as two or three quivers full of arrows.