Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks

Chapter 680 450: Shaman and Monk

What kind of war did Zhu Qizhen imagine?

Wherever the heavenly soldiers reached, the enemies were slaughtered completely, and the young Losa knelt before him, swearing never to invade the border again, fulfilling his duties as "King Jingshun."

Or perhaps it would be like the three northern expeditions of Emperor Cheng Zu, where the enemies fled upon hearing his approach, abandoning cattle and sheep along the way, leading to the dispersal and fragmentation of their forces.

Unfortunately, he was not Emperor Cheng Zu, and the Ming army was no longer the invincible force it once was.

A squad of Tatar Iron Cavalry trampled through the routed army, wantonly slaughtering. Those hunting dogs, like wolves on the grasslands, were extremely fierce, capable of biting through a person's shinbone with a single bite.

More Tatar cavalry roamed on both sides of the routed army, seemingly like herders driving a flock of sheep, pushing the routed forces back towards the Ming army camp.

The chieftain of the Mahar Tribe, with a cold smile, noticed that the Ming military excelled at static warfare, building strongholds, but in this situation, no matter how many barricades you set up in your camp, these routed forces would sweep through and leave nothing intact, wouldn't they?

"Follow the routed Southern Dynasty troops and kill all these Southerners!"

A Tatar general shouted orders loudly, leading his personal troops to press forward.

Including Losa, many Tatars driven from the south still regarded the Ming court as a separatist regime, considering themselves as the Northern Dynasty, longing to return south to the flourishing world instead of enduring the hardships of the northern grasslands.

However, when this Tatar general charged into the camp, he realized that the routed troops spread out like water, not retaining any sense. In front of them was a camp within a camp made of car barricades and trenches.

Limited by a shortage of materials, the trenches lacked wooden stakes or iron thorns as traps, but they were still high and deep, difficult to cross. They could only follow the routed troops to either side of this "camp within a camp."

But after running a while, they suffered heavy casualties from concentrated fire from the Ming troops on the camp ramparts and had to retreat hastily.

The Duke of England, Zhang Fu, at the age of antiquity, wearing the Treasure Sword, stood on a Wu Gang Vehicle and shouted, "Fire the guns!"

The command flag waved, and hundreds of guns fired simultaneously, instantly shooting down more than ten Tatar cavalry.

"Fire the arrows and shoot them!"

The Tatar general roared, and they shot arrows tipped with flames. Due to not being specially made fire arrows, they extinguished in midair, but the arrowheads burned red and the cloth wrapped around them smoldered, soon igniting a raging fire in the Ming army camp.

But the Ming troops, being many in numbers, quickly used sand to extinguish several large fires, and the few scattered small fires were harmless, unable to form a wildfire.

"Fire the cannons!"

Arrows attacked, but Zhang Fu remained unfazed, standing where he was to observe the battlefield, with two guards skilled in Martial Arts quickly striking down the arrows.

The Ming army rolled out small copper cannons, filling the barrels with shot and gunpowder, and ignited the fuses to fire.

These copper mortars were filled with iron shot, which fell like raindrops in midair, hitting both Tatar cavalry and hunting dogs, turning them into sieves, with their screams terrifying a crowd of Tatar cavalry into retreating.

In addition to several copper mortars, improved and miniaturized from the late Yuan era, which launched iron balls like catapults.

An iron ball pierced directly through the belly of a Tatar general's horse, tearing out a large portion of viscera, with the whole warhorse suddenly missing a piece like a jigsaw puzzle, crashing into the trench, and the Tatar general falling headfirst, quickly silenced.

The Divine Strategy Camp fired several rounds of firearms, killing hundreds of enemies. The chieftain of the Mahar Tribe, seeing that they could not take the Ming camp quickly, withdrew his personal guards and shouted to urge the tribal soldiers, recruited from below, to come eat lead.

Zhang Fu's face was as calm as water. He was a veteran of the Jingnan campaign, having led troops to conquer Annam and accompanied Zhu Di on multiple northern expeditions against the Tatars. Though he was old and frail now, he was undeniably a renowned general, acutely aware the situation was dire.

The Divine Strategy Camp could still use a limited amount of gunpowder, and arrows were also in short supply. If the Tatar invaders recklessly attacked, they could at least inflict mutual damage, offering His Majesty a chance to break out, but it seemed the Tatar invaders were not falling for it.

These grassland tribespeople, Jurchen Vassal Army, were merely expendables.

He gripped his sword tightly, murmuring, "I regret not drawing my sword and killing that treacherous eunuch on the court earlier."

An elder of four reigns, linked by marriage to the imperial family, sharing its fate, he could only watch helplessly as this national disaster unfolded, feeling momentarily disheartened. If this battle were lost, the ministers in the capital might discuss relocating south.

Moving south, moving south...

In history, are there any instances of a court successfully reclaiming its territory after relocating south?

"My lord, my lord, quickly look!"

His personal guard beside him suddenly exclaimed.

...

Deep within the central camp, Wang Zhen, standing high and looking far, also revealed a joyful expression: "Your Majesty, Your Majesty, look quickly!"

"The Wala rear army is in chaos, and their troops are deploying. Reinforcements must have arrived!"

Zhu Qizhen felt joyful yet still somewhat unbelieving: "General Fan, observing the movements of the Wala people, have reinforcements arrived?"

"It should be so."

Fan Zhong's voice was somewhat heavy, although he was reluctant to speak for Wang Zhen, Wang Zhen's judgment was indeed accurate. The deployments of the Wala troops were undoubtedly to intercept our reinforcements.

Fan Zhong's judgment made Zhu Qizhen breathe a sigh of relief.

"Good, good, good!"

Zhu Qizhen said three times in succession.

No word could describe the inner excitement he felt,

"Losa, Losa was not unworthy of my regard. Record his merit and decree that the Khanate shall forever be an uninvaded nation by the Great Ming. I want to grant him a reward, a grand reward, appoint him Duke and let him marry the Empress!"

As Zhu Qizhen spoke, he became nearly incoherent.

Fan Zhong lowered his head, thinking this Khanate was said to be even farther than the Timur Country, located in the Land of the West, to conquer it would be out of reach unless the Khanate was nothing but mountains of gold and silver; otherwise, how could all the civil and military officials agree to expedition such a distant country?

...

On the hillside, looking at the dense Tatar army all over the mountains and the Ming army below, who were abandoning their armor and desperately fleeing to a small hill nearby, Losa sighed lightly:

"Only twenty years have passed since Zhu Di's northern campaign against the Tatars, right?"

Losa turned back to look at the Crusader Banner nearby.

The Crusader Banner did not dare to take offense at Losa's disrespectful words and replied softly, "It's been twenty-five years."

In twenty-five years, the once-invincible Ming army was reduced to this state.

There were reasons like food and water shortages, as well as insufficient logistics, but Losa still felt that the Ming army fought this battle terribly.

"From ancient times to the present, there has never been a country that does not perish, nor a grave that is not excavated."

Losa lamented and turned back to look at his followers, their bodies stained with blood, panting heavily. The Ming soldiers had marched swiftly, with the help of Tatar horses, almost exhausting themselves to reach here.

He said nothing, merely raising the golden lance in his hand silently.

The cavalry behind him followed suit, raising their lances like a forest.

The kite banners and square banners rose like birds taking flight.

Though outnumbered, Losa's soldiers never questioned how many enemies there were, only where they were.

"Charge!"

He nudged the horse's belly gently.

It seemed like a leisurely outing as he led the army slowly running down the hillside.

The flying double-headed eagle and the Crusader Banner fluttered loudly in the cold wind.

...

The Wala central army.

"Are those the Mongolians and other Central Asians? What about Beiluo? What about his troops?"

"They were scattered, and Prince Beiluo was killed in battle."

"Impossible, it's absolutely impossible!"

Yexian's face was filled with disbelief. He knew the enemy that could annihilate the Arashi Department was formidable, but that was Beiluo, his own blood brother, recognized as the greatest warrior of the Wala tribe and even the steppes.

The messenger showed fear: "They cast some evil spells and summoned a demon..."

"Call the Boyan Tu Shaman over!"

The Shaman Priest quickly arrived at Yexian's side. Unlike the usual image of a Shaman Priest wearing a human bone necklace, appearing old and worn out, he wore a white robe, rode a white horse, had an eagle feather ornament on his head, a highland red face, and looked somewhat heroic.

The Tatars believed in both Buddhism and Shamanism, a primal faith shared by nearly all nomadic tribes, with a tenacity that left Shamanism still holding an important place in the Yuan Court.

This person was a Shaman Priest who had passed through nine trials, with extraordinary strength.

Yexian asked, "Grandmaster, didn't you say that Beiluo was protected by a flood dragon? How did he get killed?"

"I only said Beiluo was protected by a demon flood dragon, not a flood dragon."

The Shaman shook his head.

"What's the difference between the two?"

"Grandmaster, just think of this demon flood dragon as failing to measure up."

"These Mongolians and other Central Asians can even kill a demon flood dragon. Do you have a way to deal with them?"

"I have divined what they are and rely on the blessing of Longevity Heaven. It is not difficult to destroy them."

Boyan Tu Shaman nodded slightly.

Currently, Shamanism and Buddhism were fiercely competing for followers on the steppes. Buddhism had a solid base on the plateau, and if they retreated further, they would truly disappear into the river of history.

After all, those western Khanates still existing had converted to the Green religion, making competition extremely difficult.

Therefore, they must demonstrate their worth.

Shamanist Religion is not a standard sect but a primitive religion under pantheistic beliefs. For instance, many nomadic tribes regard the sky as the supreme god but call it different names, thus in many records it is translated as "Longevity Heaven," akin to the early Turkic, Xiongnu, and Kuman people, who, though far apart, shared a belief similar to the Tatars.

In fact, while all local nomadic tribes might believe in Longevity Heaven, their rituals and legends differ greatly.

Yexian nodded slightly: "Master Boyan Tu, next, I will send Boyan Temur to personally lead five thousand elites to ensure your safety. Be sure to kill all those Mongolians and other Central Asians who murdered my brother."

Boyan Tu gave no comment, silently glancing at the Red Robed Lama wearing a human bone necklace on the other side.

"Master Sang Jie can accompany Master Boyan Tu. I also want to see whose mana is stronger between the two religions."

The Red Robed Lama, who had kept a low profile, opened his eyes, looking far away. He only saw a massive black dragon charging down the hillside, not a general wearing a golden mask. A bitter expression appeared on his face.

"This humble monk is willing to go."