Chapter 33: Decapitation

The four riders of the second rank of the Qing cavalry launched a desperate charge against Hu Dake’s unit from forty paces away. Wielding an assortment of long and short weapons, they roared and spurred their mounts, rushing forward in a frantic frenzy.

However, before the battle-hardened elite of the Ming army, who stood in firm formation, their four-man charge appeared pale and futile. Amidst a hail of musket balls and arrows, they followed the fate of the first rank of Qing soldiers. Only one armored cavalryman managed to hurl a flying axe at the very moment of his death.

Their customary flying axes and javelins were usually attached to a cord at the end; upon throwing, the rider would jerk the rope to send the axe spinning forward. If it embedded itself into an enemy’s shield or armor, a sharp tug could inflict even greater damage. The spinning axe, trailing its long tail, whistled through the air and struck a soldier’s shield. Had it hit his body, even with armor, it would have surely resulted in death or severe injury.

Wu Zhizhong, leading his team on horseback from across the way, shouted from a distance: "Dake, the south is settled! Quickly reform your ranks and head to the north; I haven’t had my fill of killing yet!"

Seeing Wu Zhizhong approaching, the shield formation in front rose and split to both sides, as did the two ranks behind, clearing the street in the center.

Hu Dake first shouted orders: "Team A, sweep the battlefield! Team B and Team C, reform quickly!"

"Old Wu, aren't you supposed to be guarding the pontoon bridge? Have you come into the village just to split the heads with your brothers?" Hu Dake joked.

Wu Zhizhong laughed and replied, "Ha! Who wants your heads? I am ordered to assist you in flanking the Tatars."

After speaking, he turned on his horse to look at the soldiers of his scouting unit behind him—sixty-some riders who had followed him in.

"Dake, I’m heading to the north of the village to find the Commander." With that, without waiting for a reply, Wu Zhizhong turned to his right-flank soldiers and roared, "Right flank, target the north village entrance, charge!"

He spurred his horse forward, galloping down the empty street toward the north, with his riders trailing closely behind. To avoid the horses released by Hu Dake's rear guard, they had to ride two-abreast, trotting along the way.

...

In a large courtyard in the northern part of Mafang Village, a crowd of over seventy Qing soldiers gathered, the sound of clashing armor and the clamor of men and horses filling the air.

"Where did these Ming dogs come from? What were the scouts doing? Where are they?" the Qing *fendiboshuku* (sub-commander) cursed loudly.

He had already dispatched his only two *shis* of elite armored cavalry to patrol the west and north of Mafang, focusing on the Ming border troops stationed in Changping. In truth, he had not held the Changping reinforcements in high regard. In his eyes, the Ming imperial troops were nothing more than fodder—"They might be of some use defending a city, but in the open field, they have always been like rabbits, chased down by the warriors of our Great Qing."

He had sent the two *shis* of elite cavalry only to prevent the border troops from suddenly shifting their camp. He believed that unless they encountered a full battalion, his armored foot soldiers and cavalry could annihilate them without leaving a single piece of armor intact. But what had happened today?

Those two *shis* of elite cavalry were one-in-a-hundred warriors of the Great Qing. Yet, without a sound, they had allowed the Ming dogs to slaughter their way into Mafang. If a large detachment of elite Ming scouts had launched a surprise attack on the west gate, it might have been possible, but where had his two *shis* of elite cavalry gone?

"Lord Alha, please mount your horse."

A *baoyi aha* (servant) interrupted his thoughts, leading a warhorse forward. Another servant knelt on all fours on the left side of the horse, serving as a mounting block.

Alha stepped on the servant's back, swung into the saddle, and turned back. "Dashan, take five auxiliaries and twenty *ahas*, and use some of those women to block the street. Hold off the Ming dogs; we will wait for you at the north of the village."

A sturdy, bearded Qing warrior urged his horse forward and shouted, "Understood. Rest assured, Lord Alha."

He galloped out of the courtyard, calling out names, followed by the sound of women’s screams, wails, and cries.

"Bailiba, Duta, reform ranks! Move out the north gate to the threshing ground!" Alha issued his orders.

His intent was clear: the narrow village streets were ill-suited for cavalry charges or guerrilla warfare, and he had no idea how many Ming troops had actually entered the village.

...

The wind howled, and the snow fell heavier, swirling with the flakes until the street became blurred.

Chen Zheng led his scouting cavalry north along the dirt road, killing several servants along the way as they pushed into Mafang. Suddenly, the sound of women screaming and wailing reached them, forcing him to slow his pace.

Through the blizzard, dozens of disheveled women could be seen blocking the path ahead. Many had their legs and arms exposed, their skin blending with the falling white snow in a blinding display.

Chen Zheng felt a wave of dizziness and a surge of rage. The damned Tatars—they were using women as human shields!

He shouted, "Team A and Team B, dismount! Take off your cloaks and cover the women! Team C, move forward to guard and keep watch!"

With the clatter of armor and the hurried sound of footsteps, the soldiers shouted, "Move! Get to the side, against the wall, clear the road!"

The street was chaotic. The women, not daring to resist, huddled toward the sides as red cloaks were draped over them. Amidst the confusion, with so many people, some accidental touching was inevitable.

"Ah!"

A scream startled everyone. In the wind and snow, an arrow tore through the air and struck a soldier in the neck. Blood sprayed instantly, splashing onto the snow-covered street.

"Ah... ah..."

Two shrill screams followed; the terrified women, running wildly, had been struck by stray arrows fired by the Qing soldiers. The women who had just cleared the path now scrambled in panic like frightened deer, causing utter chaos.

Chen Zheng quickly dismounted, shouting, "Dismount! Everyone dismount!"

Mounted, they were too prominent a target. The riders of Team C behind him dismounted, but they were blocked by the crowd of women.

"Clear the way! Get down! If you don't want to die, get down!" Chen Zheng yelled, brandishing his long saber.

"Get down! If you want to live, get to the side and lie down..."

"Against the wall! Lie down! Fast!"

The scouts used their shields and weapons to gesture and shout at the women to lie down against the walls; some even used their weapons to prod them along.

*Clang... Clang...*

Two more arrows flew in, striking the soldiers' shields before clattering to the ground. Driven by the soldiers, most of the terrified women were now covered in red cloaks, lying on the ground along the sides of the street.

Chen Zheng, hunched low with his saber drawn, charged up the middle of the street. Four guards followed him, shields in their left hands and short blades, axes, or iron maces in their right.

"There aren't many Tatars ahead! Charge! Kill the Tatars!" Chen Zheng roared as he sprinted forward.

"Kill the Tatars! Charge!"

...

The Qing warrior Dashan led his five auxiliaries. Only two of them were decent shots, making for three archers in total. In the blizzard, visibility was poor; he had fired a few arrows and heard only one Ming soldier hit, along with two screams that were clearly from women.

Seeing the Ming troops charging, he shouted, "They have shields! Aim for their feet!"

Shields were effective for protecting the head and torso, but less so for the legs. The Qing warrior was indeed cunning.

"My Lord, run! The Ming dogs are upon us..." a trembling voice from a servant behind him cried out.

"Dog!"

Enraged, Dashan snatched a short axe from the ground and swung it into the neck of the servant. Blood gushed out, splashing across his face. He licked the blood from his lips and roared with a gruesome expression, "Ahas, charge! If you don't want to die, charge!"

The remaining nineteen servants, previously paralyzed with fear, were now terrified by his blood-drenched, monstrous appearance. One of them, after hearing the command, involuntarily raised his axe and charged toward the Ming soldiers with a howl. With someone leading, the others followed, nineteen servants rushing toward the Ming line.

...

*Whoosh... whoosh...*

Arrows tore through the snow.

"Ah!"

A guard was struck in the ankle, stumbled, and rolled forward. An unarmored Tatar rushed up, swinging a large axe at the guard's head. The guard rolled aside, and the axe slammed heavily into the ground, sending snow flying.

Chen Zheng stepped forward, his long saber sweeping horizontally with immense force across the servant's neck.

With a *clang*, the axe fell into the snow. The servant stood still for a moment, then suddenly raised his hands to his neck, which split open instantly. A thick jet of blood sprayed out, his head snapping back as it hung by a mere thread of skin, his pigtail dangling limply.

The servant had been decapitated by Chen Zheng’s blade!

The body then slumped, kneeling stiffly in the middle of the road. Blood continued to pour from the neck, creating a gruesome sight amidst the swirling snow.

The eighteen servants behind him, who had charged with him, stopped in their tracks, dumbfounded.

"Kill!"

Chen Zheng raised his saber and roared, and his scouts surged forward. Only then did the terrified servants react. Forgetting their weapons, they turned and fled for their lives.