Chapter Twenty-Nine: Though of Han Blood, the Han Heart Is Lost!

On the road outside the western entrance of Mafang Village, clouds of dust billowed into the air. The weeds along the roadside swayed in the wind, and withered leaves danced amidst floating willow catkins.

Yang Qing, a squadron leader of the Ming army, led two cavalrymen in a desperate gallop, showing no mercy to their mounts. Behind them, seventeen or eighteen Qing auxiliary soldiers and bondservants—known as *aha*—whipped their horses in frantic pursuit.

"Fire! Prepare to fire..." Yang Qing shouted to the seven brothers who were waiting ahead to provide cover, urging them to open fire early.

In the blink of an eye, Yang Qing and his men swept past the seven waiting riders.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Four of the seven Ming soldiers fired their three-barreled matchlocks from a distance. Dense smoke erupted, and through the haze, the Ming cavalry could be seen turning their horses to flee the moment they finished firing.

"Quick! Keep running! Run!" Yang Qing turned back, feigning panic and shouting loudly to encourage the Qing forces to continue their pursuit.

The seven riders followed behind Yang Qing, whipping their horses into a frenzy. As they ran, they turned in their saddles to fire their matchlocks again, occasionally letting fly a few arrows for good measure.

Ahead lay the main road.

Suddenly, the ten Ming riders did not charge onto the main road. Instead, Yang Qing gave a signal, and the squadron split, turning their horses sharply toward the fields on either side of the road.

...

The Qing cavalry had initially thought the Ming soldiers were formidable, given their audacity in charging forward to kill one of their auxiliaries. But as the chase went on, the Qing soldiers grew confident. The way the Ming troops fled and the fact that they fired their matchlocks from two hundred paces away made them look exactly like the "elite" Ming imperial troops they had encountered under the walls of Beijing.

"That's more like the true nature of the Ming dogs," a Qing soldier muttered to himself. Like the others, he urged his horse forward, desperate to catch the fleeing Ming soldiers before they escaped.

The Ming troops were barely a hundred paces ahead, seemingly about to reach the main road, when they suddenly veered off into the fields. Were they planning to split up and flee?

A Qing soldier gestured to his comrade beside him, signaling for them to divide their forces and pursue.

Suddenly, the sound of thunderous hooves erupted from the main road. Dozens of riders appeared. No, there were more—four abreast, charging down from the main road.

"It's a trap! The Ming dogs are cunning! Quick, report to Master Dashan!" one soldier shrieked. He tried to turn his horse around, but seventeen or eighteen riders were packed onto the narrow road, making a sudden U-turn impossible. Even though the Qing soldiers were seasoned veterans, the bondservants at the back were not as quick-witted. They had only come along to scavenge, never imagining they were walking into an ambush.

While the Qing troops were in chaos trying to turn, fifteen Ming cavalrymen charged from the abandoned fields on each side of the road, forming a pincer movement with the forces on the main road.

A Qing soldier let out a wild cry and swung his long saber. Before a bondservant could even scream, his head was severed from his body. The mule he had been riding, freed from its master’s control, gave a light leap and bolted toward the village entrance.

The other bondservants, terrified and unable to turn their horses, scrambled into the fields to escape the flashing blades.

The road cleared, and the six remaining Qing soldiers hurriedly turned their horses, preparing to gallop back to the village entrance to defend it. Suddenly, a bondservant riding at the edge of the road leapt to the left, letting out a guttural howl as he tackled the soldier who had just turned his horse. His own saber had long since been lost.

He clutched the soldier tightly, knocking off his helmet and sinking his teeth into the man’s throat. Both men tumbled from their horses. It was the same bondservant who had been called a "dog" by that very soldier near the village wall earlier.

The bondservant had discarded his weapon; his legs were locked tightly around the soldier’s waist from the left, his left hand hooked around the back of the soldier’s head with fingers gouging into the man’s right eye, and his right hand gripped the armor plates at the soldier’s left ribs.

The soldier, in agony, grabbed the bondservant’s queue with his right hand, while his left index finger jammed into the bondservant’s right eye socket. He pulled back with all his might, screaming and kicking his legs on the ground, until the two of them rolled into a roadside ditch just before the Ming cavalry arrived.

*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!*

By this time, the elite Ming cavalry had caught up. A volley of arrows flew; two bondservants were struck in vital areas. Though not killed instantly, they rolled and shrieked in agony by the ditch. One auxiliary was struck in the left shoulder; he clutched his reins and whipped his horse, galloping away in a cloud of dust. Another was less fortunate: a heavy arrow pierced his light armor and entered his torso. He tried to endure the pain and return to Mafang, but he collided with a soldier, and his startled mule reared, throwing him to the ground.

The five Qing soldiers were incensed that their "slave" had dared to retaliate, but in such a desperate moment, they ignored their comrade who was being savaged in the ditch and spurred their horses to escape.

Dust rose again as the Qing troops fled for their lives, with the elite Ming cavalry in hot pursuit.

...

Zhang Cheng stood by the side of the road, watching from a distance as Yang Qing lured the enemy into the trap. He ordered Chen Zheng to lead the charge from the main road, wipe out the lured Qing troops, and strike directly into Mafang.

Chen Zheng led his guards in the first rank. Riding four abreast, they charged down from the high ground. Seeing the enemy turning to flee, they pursued while firing their bows relentlessly.

Seeing the bondservant attacking the soldier from a distance, Zhang Cheng pointed and told Chen Zhong, "Take a few men and go see what’s happening."

Chen Zhong agreed and led a few men down the road toward the northern ditch.

...

On the road, the Qing soldiers were galloping hard. They were less than two hundred paces from the village entrance and only ten paces from the shallow ditch outside it. Relief washed over them; they weren't thinking about the punishment they might face—only survival mattered.

Just as they felt a glimmer of hope, red figures suddenly emerged from the shallow ditches on both sides of the road. Those close to the path raised their three-barreled matchlocks, while those further away drew their bows.

"Bang! Bang! Whoosh! Bang! Whoosh!"

Gunfire and bowstrings sang in harmony, the sound of arrows slicing through the air mingling with the rustle of the grass.

The auxiliary soldier in the lead was hit by a matchlock ball. The sheer force threw him from his horse, his body arching into the air as a spray of blood painted the sky. He hit the ground with a heavy thud and went silent.

The two soldiers behind him were struck by the dense volley of lead. One slumped over his horse’s neck, charging back into the village, while the other fell and was trampled into a bloody mess by the horses behind him.

The three remaining soldiers surged forward, but were met by dozens of arrows. With no time to dodge, they swung their sabers and axes, trying desperately to deflect the projectiles.

There were simply too many arrows, and the range was too close. One soldier was struck by six arrows and fell heavily from his mount. Another was hit by three, one arrow piercing his right eye. He fell, but his foot caught in the stirrup, and he was dragged toward the village by his panicked horse.

The only soldier to dodge the first volley crossed the ditch, feeling a momentary surge of triumph.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Three shots rang out, and two balls struck him from behind. Though he didn't fall, he slumped over his horse’s neck; he would surely not survive the ride to the village.

The two remaining auxiliaries and three bondservants charged ahead. They had no choice; only by breaking through could they live. They whipped their exhausted mules mercilessly.

As they reached the shallow ditch, a figure lunged out, swinging a three-barreled matchlock and smashing it into the mule's legs. The animal buckled, and the auxiliary fell. The attacker swung the weapon again, delivering a dull thud to the man’s skull, and the auxiliary collapsed, motionless.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

More sharp reports echoed.

Arrows flew across the road, and screams filled the air. One mule was struck by matchlock balls and collapsed, pinning the auxiliary beneath its heavy, dying carcass. Two bondservants, bristling with arrows, managed to keep their grip on the reins, struggling to stay atop their mounts as they wailed in agony and fled toward the village entrance.

...

Chen Zheng’s team arrived in pursuit. Seeing that the riders in the ditch were not climbing back onto the road but were running on foot toward the village, he spurred his horse and charged forward.

More than two hundred Ming cavalrymen advanced toward the village entrance. They rode four abreast, their formation orderly and their momentum terrifying.

"This is how the border troops of our Great Ming should look!" Zhang Cheng said with a hint of pride, watching from a ridge four hundred paces away as Chen Zheng and Hu Dake’s cavalry charged into Mafang.

Chen Zhong had just reported back: in the ditch, a bondservant had indeed turned on his master, biting through the soldier's throat and gouging out his eye. The bondservant himself had been scalped by the soldier, who had torn away the hair and the remaining scalp along with the bondservant's own eye. The man was now unconscious, his survival uncertain.

Zhang Cheng simply ordered that the bondservant be cared for; whether he lived or died was up to fate.

In the distance, Hu Dake’s rear guard had also surged into the village. It seemed the attack was going smoothly—they had breached the village with surprising ease.

...

Outside Mafang Village, about a hundred paces to the southwest, stood an abandoned, dilapidated stable. Nearly a thousand captured civilians were imprisoned there.

Outside the stable, ten Qing auxiliary soldiers and over twenty bondservants could be seen. They held various short weapons, patrolling in small groups and taunting the captives behind the fence.

Though they had once been Han Chinese, they no longer possessed a Han heart.