Volume 1: The Wind Rises in Tumubao Chapter 36 Massacre
Since entering the grassland, the weather has gradually turned colder. At first, you can still see towering pine and spruce trees standing in rows. The further north you go, the more withered the trees become.
A few days later, the army arrived at the heart of the desert. The wind blew the grass low, and there was a sea of clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see.
As the saying goes, the sky is like a dome, covering the whole area. Three thousand troops marching on such a vast grassland are like a small boat in the vast ocean. Everyone sighs at the vastness of the world and the insignificance of human beings.
In this situation, Zhu Qizhen was not in the mood to feel sad because he was lost.
There is not even a map of this place. Even if there was one, it would be useless because there is only grassland all around and no landmarks. You wouldn't be able to understand the map even if you were given one.
When the Three Thousand Battalion set out, they did not bring any supplies with them. They had to rely on hunting yellow sheep and wild rabbits for food along the way. There were many people and little meat, and many soldiers were still hungry. They had to find the Wala village as soon as possible so that they could fight to support themselves.
"Report!"
Facing the setting sun, a scout came galloping. The knight on the horse panted and said, "Five miles ahead, we found a lake. There is a village of the Oirat people on the lakeside!"
The Oirat people are a nomadic people. The so-called village is nothing more than a temporary gathering place for a few families. When the water and grass here are exhausted, they roll up their tents and move to the next pasture.
It is precisely because of this that it is difficult to find their traces.
The most effective method is to find water sources. Where there is water, there may be activities of the Wala people.
When Zhu Qizhen heard this, he immediately became excited and asked, " How many ?"
"Your Majesty, there are about five or six hundred people!"
Zhu Qizhen's eyes swept across the land, and his roar pierced through the wilderness: "Pass on my order, all troops speed up, and end the battle before sunset!"
When the soldiers heard that there was finally a battle to be fought, they immediately became enthusiastic, and their tired bodies trembled with great strength and they rushed forward.
The calm lake surface ripples gently in the breeze, making a rustling sound, as if it were a poem of harmony and tranquility.
There lives a tribe near the lake. All of their young and strong men have joined the southern expedition and may return soon with a lot of spoils.
The southerners were very rich. Iron pots, salt, cotton cloth, and other supplies that were extremely scarce on the grasslands were already available in ordinary people's homes.
Although occasionally smugglers would bring some supplies to the grassland and exchange them for horses and furs, those were only available to the upper class. Lower-class herdsmen like them could only rely on the warriors in the tribe to go out and plunder.
Sometimes, the warriors would bring back some slaves. In short, if they wanted to improve their lives, they would go south to plunder. In their eyes, this was a matter of course.
As the sky gradually darkened, the tribe gathered in groups of three or four in front of the campfire, talking about the battle situation of Yesen Taishi's southern expedition. This time, the tribe not only sent all the warriors, but also contributed a large number of cattle and sheep. When the army returned, they would surely be rewarded with a lot of spoils.
At this moment, the sound of horse hooves suddenly came from a distance.
An old man looked up and saw the cavalry rushing towards him in the afterglow of the setting sun. He frowned and said, "Didn't we just send supplies over the day before yesterday? Why are they here again?"
Another person said: "I heard that the battle on the front line has reached a stalemate. I guess they are running out of food and fodder."
"But most of our tribe's cattle and sheep have been requisitioned. Where can we get supplies for them?"
"Aren't there still two hundred sheep left?"
"Winter is coming soon. If we send all the food to the front line, the people in the tribe will starve!"
"Don't worry. When the troops on the front line return victorious, we will get all the benefits."
"Alas, this is all I can do."
Seeing the cavalry approaching, the old man who spoke first stood up and ordered, "Tell everyone to drive all the sheep over here!"
At this time, someone looked puzzled and said, "Why do I feel something is wrong?"
"What's wrong?"
"The armor on these people..."
Before the man could finish his words, there was a whoosh and an arrow pierced his chest.
Immediately afterwards, more arrows flew one after another, and these people finally reacted.
"It's the Ming army!"
"Enemy attack, enemy attack!"
However, it was too late.
Zhu Qizhen took the lead and shouted: "Kill!"
The soldiers of the Three Thousand Battalion were like tigers at the foot of the mountain, galloping on their horses and roaring as they rushed towards the Wala people. Their shining swords gleamed with cold light in the afterglow of the setting sun.
It is the dream of every Ming Dynasty soldier to be able to spread the flames of war to the grassland.
Before this, only Emperor Yongle had ever done it.
There was a flame of fanaticism flashing in everyone's eyes, their faces flushed, their excitement was beyond words, and the dust raised by the horses' hooves covered half the sky.
These Wala people never imagined that the Ming army would appear in the heart of the desert!
The deafening sound of horse hooves broke the peaceful life of this tribe. In the past, they went south to plunder the people of the Ming Dynasty and never thought that one day they would be massacred by the Ming army.
For a moment, the tribe was filled with cries of fear. It was obvious that the Oirat people, who had never been robbed, regarded this Ming army that had penetrated deep into the grassland as tribal warriors transporting supplies.
However, even when they realized that something was wrong, they did not retreat. Men, women, and even children half the height of a human were all trying to resist.
In the Oirat people's impression, the Han people would never set foot on the grassland because they were weak by nature and could not withstand a single blow.
A gray-haired Oirat man was holding a scimitar and riding a warhorse. He was once a soldier and had followed the army south many times. Facing the aggressive Ming army, he was not afraid, but chose to fight head-on.
Opposite him, a horse straddled across, and then, a sharp blade flashed by like a snow-white sword, blood splattered everywhere, and the body of the old Wala man was broken into two parts in the middle, and he fell off the horse with a thud.
His sunken eyes bulged out in fear, and the sadness in them was clearly visible. Obviously, he had never imagined until his death that he would be killed by the swords of the Ming army at the doorstep of his home.
Ha Ming's face was full of ferocity. He spat fiercely at the corpse of the old Wala man. He swung the big knife in his hand, and the blood on the blade spread far away. Then he went to look for his next target.
“Kill!”
The Ming army was already blood-thirsty and as ferocious as wild wolves on the grassland that broke into a flock of sheep and slaughtered them indiscriminately.
The battle was an almost one-sided massacre, and the Oirat people finally realized that this Ming army seemed very different from what they had imagined.
Finally, they came to their senses and the fierceness in their eyes turned into fear.
“Run!”
In terror, countless Wala people threw away their weapons and ran away.
But how could the Ming army let them go!
These panicked Oirat people instantly became living targets for the Ming army.
Thinking of their fellow countrymen who had died tragically at the hands of the Oirat army in the past, the ferocity hidden deep in the Ming army began to erupt. With cold expressions, they slowly pulled their longbows, watching the spinning arrows shoot out and pierce through the enemy's chests, listening to the sound of their sternums breaking. Amid the blood, it seemed that all their anger was released.
