Volume 1: The Wind Rises in Tumubao Chapter 42: Fire in the Backyard
Zagel was very happy that night and got drunk before he stopped.
I really didn't expect that while I was transporting supplies far behind, I could be favored by Changshengtian and get a share of the credit for nothing.
This Agula is quite nice and worth making friends with.
I was dazed and felt someone pushing me.
"What are you doing?" He turned over and said impatiently, "Let's talk about it tomorrow!"
"Enemy attack, enemy attack!"
"What kind of attack is this..."
"Ming army...ah!"
A scream awakened the war gene in Zager's body. He jumped up and saw his close guard slowly falling to the ground.
He raised his eyes little by little, and then saw a tall figure.
This person was none other than Agula, who had been drinking with me in the evening. He was holding a shiny steel knife in his hand, which was dripping with blood.
"A...Brother Agula, what are you...what are you going to do?"
"Brother, I'll take you on your way!"
Ha Ming slashed at him with a knife. Zager wanted to resist, but his body was filled with too much alcohol and he could not obey at all.
“You…ah…”
A miserable howl was heard, Ha Ming wiped the blood off his face, and continued to look for his next target with a knife in hand.
The Wala soldiers in the camp finally reacted and began to resist.
Many people didn't know what was happening. They only knew that there was an enemy attack. In a hurry, they were completely unprepared and got up in panic to fight.
There were even many people who had their heads chopped off by the Ming army while they were sleeping, and there was still a faint smile on the corners of their mouths, without a trace of pain.
The entire camp was ablaze with flames rising to the sky. The sounds of shouting, wailing and the howling north wind intertwined together, like a blood-red war song, echoing along the shores of Chagan Nur Lake.
After the first round of attacks, more than 3,000 Wala soldiers were killed, leaving only 500 to 600.
The blood of their companions dyed their eyes red, and the ferocity of the grassland people was clearly revealed at this moment. They howled and reorganized their offensive, stepping over the bodies of their companions, even stepping on the chests of their still groaning companions, and rushed over like the wind.
Seeing this scene, Zhu Qizhen couldn't help but shake his head and sigh. There is indeed a big difference between the Oirat people and the Han people.
They only respect the strong. For victory, anyone's life can be sacrificed, even comrades who depend on each other for life and death. At this moment, human nature and animal nature are fully manifested.
This time, Zhu Qizhen did not lead the charge. The 3,000-man battalion had been tempered in blood and fire and had already grown into a battle-hardened force.
The Ming army was harvesting the battlefield with a huge advantage. Li Zhen took the lead, pointing the steel knife in his hand forward, and blood dripped from the tip of the knife.
"kill!"
In the night sky, shrill screams rang out from time to time, piercing the grassland sky and drifting away into the distance. The bright red blood stained every corner of the camp.
The fighting power of the Oirat people was very strong. Even though they knew they were surrounded and in dire straits, they still struggled desperately. Their blood-stained faces looked like Satan devils from hell.
"kill!"
The Ming army roared and launched a final charge. The sharp tips of their swords pierced forward with a cold light, and blood splattered everywhere. Countless Wala people were pierced through the chest. After struggling weakly for a few times, they fell to the ground.
Finally, the last Oirat fell, and the Chagan Nur camp returned to its former tranquility.
The next step was to clean up the battlefield, and Li Zhen came to Zhu Qizhen to report the results of the battle.
"Your Majesty, we killed more than 3,000 enemies in this battle. It's a great victory!"
Zhu Qizhen did not show much excitement, but asked: "How many casualties did our army suffer?"
"Seventy-two of our men were killed and about five hundred were wounded."
Since it was a night attack, most of the Oirat people were asleep and the Ming army suffered very few casualties. However, in Zhu Qizhen's mind, even if only one person died, it would be a huge loss.
"Li Zhen, how many people are left in the Three Thousand Battalion?"
Li Zhen was stunned for a moment, then immediately replied: "Your Majesty, as of tonight, there are still 2,750 people in the 3,000-man camp!"
After hearing this, Zhu Qizhen's face became very heavy. When the Three Thousand Battalion was first formed, there were 3,000 people. More than a hundred people were killed in the Battle of Badaling. Then after going deep into the grassland, they fought for several days, and with the casualties tonight, they had lost 250 people.
These people accompanied him deep into the desert, through life and death, and some of them were only sixteen or seventeen years old, still children.
However, in order to achieve final victory, bloodshed and sacrifice are inevitable.
This is war, cruel and cold, without a trace of mercy and sympathy!
After a moment of silence, Zhu Qizhen sighed and said, "Write down all their names!"
Li Zhen's expression tensed up, and he saluted and said, "As you wish!"
…
On the Mobei grassland, the darkness before dawn is the coldest.
Boyan was sleeping soundly when he felt a cold wind blowing on his head and a guard hurried into the tent.
"General, this is bad!"
Boyan opened his sleepy eyes and murmured, "Why, did you find any traces of the Ming army?"
"Report to the General, a fire was spotted in the distance, it seems like a big fire has started!"
Boyan looked surprised. There was a fire on the grassland?
Could it be... Suddenly, a bad thought flashed through his mind. He hurriedly got up and walked out of the tent. After just one look, he was stunned.
"General, look, is that the location of the Chagannuoer camp?"
Somewhere in the south, a fire shot up into the sky, illuminating the entire night sky red.
Boyan suddenly felt no sleepiness at all, and the look in his eyes was gradually replaced by anger.
After a while, he roared, "Everyone assemble, target Chagannuoer camp!"
…
Pour lamp oil on the yurt and ignite it with a torch. With a slight buzzing sound, the fire spread from small to large, from near to far. The huge and spacious tent slowly burned like a spark burning on the vast grassland.
In a short while, the yurt was engulfed in flames, and the raging flames swayed and blew in the wind, setting the adjacent tents on fire. Countless yurts, like adjacent matchsticks, were set on fire one after another.
Ten, twenty, a hundred tents, the sparks grew bigger and brighter. When thousands of tents in Chagan Nur were burning under the blue sky, it was like blooming fireworks burning the night sky. The fiery light was like blood flowers blooming on the grassland, illuminating the vast sky red.
As the endless tents burned one after another and the flames reaching into the sky illuminated their faces, the soldiers of the Three Thousand Battalion rode on their horses, swords raised high, galloping back and forth, cheering vigorously. The majestic passion filled their young yet weathered faces.
Zhu Qizhen didn't say anything, just watched it all .
Behind those bloodshot eyes and excited faces, there is so much tragedy and heaviness.
Li Zhen stepped forward and asked, "Your Majesty, where are we going next?"
Since the Wala's supply station was destroyed, Yesen would inevitably withdraw his troops, and the road ahead would become even more difficult.
In the vast desert, the only way to avoid the pursuit of the Oirat people is to take them by surprise and head towards the place they think is the most unlikely.
This is a game of life and death. If we are not careful, the Three Thousand Battalion will be wiped out.
Zhu Qizhen had already made a plan in mind, and he uttered three words softly: "Onon River!"
