Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Young Commander Returns Victorious to Camp

The sky was somewhat dim, and silver-white snowflakes drifted down with the wind, blanketing the earth in white.

A hundred meters to the southwest of Mafang Village lay an abandoned stable with an open clearing outside. More than a dozen bonfires were lit, around which over eight hundred refugees were scattered, using the warmth to ward off the biting wind and snow.

Zhang Cheng was chatting with an old man named Shi Tiegen. Sitting with them by the fire was a sturdy man named Shi Zhuzi, who was right beside the old man. To his right sat a thin, frail young man who occasionally cast shy, furtive glances at Zhang Cheng.

"Old man, have you always been shoeing horses here in Mafang?" Zhang Cheng asked in a gentle tone.

"Reporting to the General, I was originally a craftsman from Tianjin. Two years ago, to escape the Tatars, I drifted to Mafang and have been working as a farrier here ever since."

"Don’t be so formal, old man. We are all on the same side now. Just call me 'Commander,' just like the others do."

Hearing that the man was a skilled craftsman from Tianjin, Zhang Cheng paid extra attention to him and spoke with greater courtesy.

"I dare not disobey, Commander."

As Shi Tiegen moved to stand and bow, Zhang Cheng caught him and pulled him back down. The old man settled back, speaking carefully.

"Reporting to the Commander, this young lad is my only son, Zhuzi. Zhuzi, hurry and kowtow to the Commander."

As the old man spoke, he became insistent, forcing Shi Zhuzi to rise and show his respects. Zhang Cheng did not stop him, watching with a faint smile.

Shi Zhuzi stood up, his tall, sturdy frame suddenly kneeling at Zhang Cheng’s feet. He said in a muffled voice, "Commander, my life belongs to you. Whether it be riding into the thick of battle or facing a sea of blades and fire, I am yours to command."

With that, he delivered three loud, heavy kowtows. Zhang Cheng felt the ground beneath him tremble slightly.

Once he rose, Zhang Cheng said with satisfaction, "Good man. Stay with me, and we shall do great things."

Shi Zhuzi accepted happily. After he was seated, Zhang Cheng asked the old man, "Since you are a craftsman, what kind of equipment were you specialized in?"

The old man sighed, a hint of sorrow in his voice. "My family has been craftsmen for generations; we were familiar with all manner of military weapons and armor. But in these times, let alone supporting a family, even putting food on the table is a struggle."

The old man wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and continued, "My son’s new wife was taken by those damned Tatars and... alas..."

He choked up at this. Beside him, Shi Zhuzi slammed a fist into the ground with a dull thud. The frail young man next to him seemed similarly triggered; tears streamed down his face as he bolted upright, only to be grabbed by Shi Zhuzi’s large hand and pulled back down.

Before Zhang Cheng could ask, the old man gestured with his chin toward the right. "He is a poor soul as well—a scholar from Wanggezhuang. He was married only last month. He should not have had to suffer such a fate..."

Zhang Cheng was surprised. He hadn't expected to find a scholar among these captured refugees. He turned to look at the frail man, who grew visibly uncomfortable, his eyes darting away the moment they met Zhang Cheng’s gaze.

"Old man, do you have any knowledge of firearms?" Zhang Cheng withdrew his gaze and asked with concern.

Shi Tiegen hesitated for a moment before replying, "In my younger years, I forged matchlock muskets. They were incredibly precise, but they were labor-intensive, time-consuming, and required high-quality refined iron."

Zhang Cheng nodded with satisfaction. Just as he was about to speak, the scout Chen Zheng hurried over. "Reporting to the Commander, everything is in order. Please give your instructions."

Zhang Cheng placed his left hand on Chen Zhong’s shoulder, using the leverage to stand up. He smiled at Chen Zheng, "It is getting late. Pass the order to prepare for departure."

Chen Zheng acknowledged the order and waved toward the west end of the village. A squad of soldiers approached, each carrying bundles of old clothing.

Zhang Cheng called Chen Zhong over and whispered, "Tell He Kuan to come here."

...

"Commander, you called for me." He Kuan jogged over, still catching his breath.

Zhang Cheng said directly, "For that Shi Zhuzi, arrange a few sharp soldiers to stay with him."

He Kuan was stunned. "Stay... with him?"

Ignoring his confusion, Zhang Cheng called Chen Zhong over. "Go and bring the old man, Shi Zhuzi, and that scholar over here."

As Chen Zhong turned to leave, Zhang Cheng called him back. "Remember, do not just call them—invite them."

"Yes, Commander." Chen Zhong walked away, puzzled. He couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into the Commander today.

"I will arrange for Shi Zhuzi, the scholar, and the old man to screen these people. Record those who possess specific skills, and you will provide whatever support they need," Zhang Cheng instructed He Kuan.

By then, Chen Zhong had returned with the three men. Zhang Cheng cupped his hands. "I have invited you three here today because I truly have a favor to ask."

Shi Tiegen quickly bowed deeply. "Please, Commander, do not say such things. You humble me. Whatever you need, just command it; we would not dare disobey."

Zhang Cheng smiled. "I would like you to help me screen these people along the way and record those with specialized skills."

The old man looked concerned. "I will do my best, Commander, but as for the recording..." He trailed off, wringing his hands nervously.

"I have already considered that," Zhang Cheng said, smiling. "That is why I specifically invited the scholar."

He looked at the frail man. The scholar, understanding, stepped forward and bowed. "Student Wang Yuanjing, greetings to the Commander. I am willing to serve you and handle the recording."

Wang Yuanjing was from Wanggezhuang, northwest of Mafang. Because of the Tatar invasion, his new bride had resisted their assault and was slaughtered, yet she was not spared further humiliation. His parents had also risen in defiance and were killed by the Tatars.

Wang Yuanjing himself had been consumed by a desperate desire to resist, but lacking any physical strength, he had been snatched up like a chick every time he charged. It was only because he was a scholar that he had been spared, left to weep daily.

Today, witnessing Zhang Cheng’s authority—and seeing his army not only dare to fight the Tatars but actually defeat them while protecting the common people—he felt a surge of hope. He wished to use the strength of Zhang Cheng’s army to avenge his family.

Hearing his name, he had stepped forward to express his devotion.

"Good, very good. Then I shall leave it to the three of you!"

Zhang Cheng was very satisfied with the scholar; he was learned, polite, and not overly pedantic—a truly fine find.

In high spirits, he punched Shi Zhuzi in the chest. The man only took a small step back to absorb the force, his upper body remaining upright, showing no sign of pain or labored breathing.

"Truly impressive. I will wait for you all at the Changping camp."

With that, Zhang Cheng signaled to Chen Zhong and the others, and they turned to leave.

...

The fourteenth year of the Chongzhen era, the fourth day of the tenth lunar month, mid-Shen hour (approx. 4:00 PM). The cold late-autumn wind blew, carrying silver-white snowflakes through the sky.

A group of riders galloped through the wind and snow. The landscape was a sea of white, making the bright red cloaks of the riders look particularly striking.

It was Zhang Cheng and his personal guard, racing toward the Changping military camp. Although he was pushing his horse, Zhang Cheng’s mind was racing as well.

...

They were not far from the camp now. Pushing through the wind and snow had been arduous, but they dared not stop. To be honest, Zhang Cheng hadn't been entirely confident when he ventured out on this patrol.

After all, he had just arrived in this world. While he had confidence in the elite Xuanzhen cavalry under his command, he had no idea what the result would be when facing the legendary, "invincible" Tatar demons. He had been as nervous as "fifteen buckets hanging in a well—half up and half down."

But the result was more than satisfactory; it was a pleasant surprise.

This battle had allowed him to truly witness the strength of the Ming border elites. They were definitely not inferior to the elite Tatar cavalry; what they lacked was only the will to fight—the morale.

Many factors influenced morale—training, equipment, provisions, and more. Those were matters for later, to be addressed after the campaign at Julu.

He had to have his own territory to ensure basic logistics; he could not rely on the incompetence of the Ming bureaucracy.

Thinking of this, he remembered the eight hundred refugees—Old Shi, Shi Zhuzi, and the scholar Wang Yuanjing. He hadn't expected to find a scholar, and a non-pedantic one at that; he might be a promising talent.

Thinking of them, the question of how to settle these people became a pressing issue.

...

On the eastern outskirts of Changping, at the Xuanzhen army camp, there were several extra guards outside the tent of Assistant Regional Commander Zhang Yan. Even Zhang Cheng’s captain of the guard was pacing back and forth on patrol.

"Cheng’er, is what you just said true?"

Zhang Yan looked at his nephew with astonishment. He was deeply bewildered. Only a short time ago, the lad had been a cynical troublemaker.

How was it that after a round of military discipline, he seemed to have regained his senses? Especially after entering the capital region, how had he become bold enough to lead troops on a patrol without authorization?

Yet, the boy was lucky to have achieved such a great victory.

He vaguely felt that something was not quite right, but he could not put his finger on it.

"Uncle, I lost my father at a young age and have always regarded you as a father. How could I lie to you?"

Zhang Cheng spoke with sincerity, his tone filled with affection, which moved Zhang Yan.

He asked gently, "Don't go into too much detail about the process. Just give me a detailed account of the spoils."

Zhang Cheng reported as instructed: "In this battle, our unit, under the orders of the Xuanzhen Assistant Regional Commander, went out to scout the east of Changping. We encountered a group of elite Tatars out raiding. I, Zhang Cheng, led my cavalry to intercept them and defeated them in a single charge."

"We beheaded one hundred and forty-three Tatars, captured thirty prisoners, and seized one Boshiku banner and five Zhuangda banners, along with countless weapons and armor."

"We rescued eight hundred and seventy-three civilians from the capital region who had been abducted by the Tatars, and also recovered nearly a thousand taels of silver, some mules and horses, and a small amount of grain..."

"A Boshiku banner?"

Although this was the second time Zhang Yan had heard this, he was still skeptical. He knew his nephew would not dare to lie about such a matter, but he still found it hard to believe.