Chapter Thirty-Four: Spare Me, Master...

Mafang Village appeared incredibly small amidst the wind and snow. The vast, swirling white flakes enveloped and draped over everything, turning the world into a landscape of silver, punctuated occasionally by patches of vibrant red. These crimson stains, linked together, formed a beautiful tapestry painted with the blood of invaders.

At the west entrance of the village, rows of cavalry stood mounted, their scarlet cloaks covered in layers of white snow. Only the bright red tassels on their helmets remained exposed, standing out starkly against the blizzard.

Zhang Cheng spurred his horse forward, coming to a halt just inside the village gate. Behind him, Chen Zhong and the guards formed a fan-shaped formation.

"Any casualties in your squads?" Zhang Cheng asked in a deep voice.

Fang Han, commander of the third squad of the vanguard's first battalion; Li Damu, commander of the second squad of the rear guard's first battalion; and He Kuan, commander of the third squad of the rear guard's first battalion, rode forward. Fang Han reported: "Reporting to the Commander, we have no casualties. We have taken sixteen Manchu heads, captured one Manchu infantryman, three bondservants, and twenty-one horses and mules, including seven warhorses and two wounded ones."

"Very well. Fang Han, your unit is to guard the village entrance. Li Damu, head north; He Kuan, head south. Search every courtyard; do not overlook any villagers, carts, or livestock. Regroup here once the search is complete."

"Yes, Commander!" The three acknowledged the order, turned, and signaled their men, departing in their respective directions.

"Huang Daguang, what is the situation on your side?" Zhang Cheng asked, turning his head.

Huang Daguang, commander of the second squad of the left guard's first battalion, who had been waiting nearby, trotted over and reported: "Reporting to the Commander, our unit and the third squad took eighteen Manchu heads at the stables, mostly auxiliaries and bondservants."

Huang Daguang licked his lips and continued: "We also captured three auxiliaries and nine bondservants, most of them wounded. We seized one hundred and nineteen healthy horses and mules, including twenty-one warhorses, and four wounded animals."

"Good. The greatest harvest in this battle is the livestock. Any casualties in your unit?" Zhang Cheng was satisfied with the outcome.

So far, they had taken over fifty Manchu heads and captured more than twenty Qing soldiers. Even if most were mere bondservants, each head with its signature queue was a trophy. In wartime, it mattered little whether they were elite cavalry or lowly servants; any head with a queue could be claimed as a high-value enemy. With the dead and captured already totaling over seventy, and more fighting ongoing, this was surely a monumental achievement. Though they had engaged without explicit orders, the victory—a first-class merit for defending the capital region—was unprecedented.

Huang Daguang replied: "We only have three men injured, none critically. It’s nothing to worry about."

"Good. Go back, round up the horses and mules, and secure them. Release the villagers captured by the Manchus and let them flee for their lives," Zhang Cheng ordered.

Huang Daguang looked troubled. "Commander, that’s the tricky part. The villagers refuse to leave."

"They won't leave?" Zhang Cheng pondered for a moment before saying: "Go back and tell them to stay put for now. If there are those who know each other or are from the same village, have them gather together."

"Understood." Huang Daguang turned and rode back toward the stables.

With heavy troops now positioned at both the north and south ends of Mafang Village, and assuming the scouts' intelligence was accurate, the remaining Qing forces should not be too formidable. He only needed to wait for word from the field.

Just then, Wu Zhizhong, commander of the right guard, rode up with his troops, shouting from a distance: "Commander! The north side is finished!"

"Old Wu, head north. Hurry and finish off the situation with Huzi and Chen Zheng." Zhang Cheng waved him on without letting him stop.

***

North of Mafang Village, white snow drifted down.

Zhang Guangda’s left guard had reached the northern gate. Not daring to tarry, he shouted from his horse: "Two platoons from the first battalion are to remain at the gate! The entire second battalion is to dismount! Second squad leads, third squad follows! Front rank shields, rear rank firearms and bows—watch out for the Manchus!"

The two squads of the second battalion immediately dismounted. Led by their commanders, they entered Mafang. They hadn't gone far before they ran head-on into the panicked Qing infantry led by Alha.

He Shihui, commander of the second squad, held his three-barreled gun, moving in the second rank behind ten shield-bearing soldiers of the first platoon. With sharp ears, he heard the neighing of horses ahead and whispered: "First platoon, shields up! Second platoon, prepare bows and guns! There are Manchus ahead! Third platoon, hug the walls and flank them!"

No sooner had he spoken than shadows flickered through the snow. He Shihui raised his three-barreled gun. The Qing force, numbering about forty, had also spotted them and fell into a chaotic, noisy scramble.

"Whoosh... whoosh... whoosh..."

Three heavy arrows cut through the wind and snow. Two were blocked by the shields, but one struck a soldier in the second rank in the left shoulder. He gritted his teeth and retreated, his position immediately filled by one of He Shihui's guards. Their rank consisted of six three-barreled guns and five bows.

"Swish... swish... swish..."

Though they were still out of range for the guns, the bows were deadly. Arrows flew back and forth, and cries of agony filled the air.

He Shihui could clearly see the Qing cavalry charging. He aimed his gun at a Manchu soldier wearing a back banner and fired. A series of explosions followed, the smoke dissipating into the snowy sky. The leading Qing infantrymen were thrown from their saddles, several falling instantly. Three horses collapsed, thrashing and screaming. Two panicked horses charged forward, knocking down three shield-bearers and causing four others in the second platoon to stumble.

The muddy street turned into a scene of chaos, with men grappling in a blood-soaked melee. As casualties mounted, the third squad arrived to reinforce the gap, keeping the street firmly sealed by the left guard.

After firing his gun, He Shihui roared, "Kill the damn Manchus!" He charged forward, swinging his empty gun at a Manchu’s head, knocking him to the ground. A long saber swept toward him from the side, but a large axe swung from behind, parrying the blade. Suddenly, an iron staff lunged forward, striking He Shihui in the chest. He staggered back, barely catching himself with his gun, a streak of red appearing at the corner of his mouth.

He licked the blood away, spat, and roared as he threw himself back into the fray.

Alha, the Qing squad leader, had thought his plan to use the women and twenty bondservants as a distraction to block the Ming pursuit was clever. He had hoped to use the time to regroup his remaining infantry and auxiliaries at the northern threshing ground to counterattack. To his surprise, a large force of elite Ming troops awaited at the north gate. He realized he was surrounded, and without an immediate breakout, he faced total annihilation.

He spurred his horse, drew his bow, and shouted: "Ming dogs! Warriors of the Great Qing, shoot them down!"

Alha pulled his bow to full draw, loosed a heavy arrow, and grabbed another. He shouted to Duta, a nearby infantryman: "Duta! Take your men and charge! Drive these Ming dogs back!"

Suddenly, a volley of gunfire erupted. Four leading Qing soldiers fell. A bullet grazed Duta’s right cheek, tearing off half his ear, leaving it hanging by a thread of flesh. This only fueled his fury. "Warriors of the Great Qing, kill the Ming dogs!"

He spurred his horse into a wild gallop, followed by seven or eight others. As they neared the Ming line, Duta roared: "Kill the Ming dogs!" He hurled his iron mace at the Ming formation, followed by a flurry of axes and javelins.

"Bang! Bang-bang!"

Another volley of gunfire rang out. Duta was lifted from his saddle by the impact of the bullets and slammed onto the muddy street, lifeless.

Alha was about to charge when he heard commotion behind him. Turning, he saw Dashan returning with five auxiliaries. Dashan rushed to Alha and whispered: "Master Alha, there are too many Ming dogs. I fear we cannot hold. Let me protect you, and we shall break out."

Alha knew the Ming troops at the west gate were closing in. Staying meant death. His only hope was to fight his way out. He stowed his bow, gripped an axe in his left hand and a javelin in his right, his eyes burning red. "Break out! Bailiba, Dashan—our lives depend on this charge!"

The remaining dozen Qing soldiers surged forward with him. Alha leaped his horse over the corpses, twisting his body to throw his javelin with the force of the horse's momentum, immediately drawing another.

***

As Alha launched his final charge, the bondservants behind him fell into chaos.

"Murder! Run for your lives!"

Five bondservants, used as cannon fodder, came sprinting past, having outpaced Chen Zheng and his men. They screamed as they crashed into the ranks of the bondservants behind Alha, triggering a cascade of panic. Unlike Chen Zheng’s men, who were heavily armored and slower, these bondservants were unarmored and light on their feet.

Their arrival shattered the formation. Riding poorly trained mules and horses, the bondservants were squeezed together in total disarray. Several beasts bucked, throwing their riders. Suddenly, they heard the thunderous, rapid approach of hooves.

Wu Zhizhong’s right guard had bypassed the vanguard and caught up. He swung his long saber, slicing through the snowy air and across the neck of a bondservant, sending a spray of blood into the air.

"Thump!" The man fell from his horse.

These bondservants were mere peasants, kidnapped and forced into servitude, following their masters to raid the capital region. They had been acting tough under the protection of the Manchus, but after a day of terror, their spirits were broken. Seeing the slaughter, several fell from their horses, kneeling or prostrating themselves, crying out: "Master, have mercy!"