Chapter Eighty-Three: Training the Troops

The following morning, just as Zhen Youcai had predicted, Monk Zhang, Cheng Xuan, and twelve other leaders brought over eight hundred bandit horsemen to enlist. That very afternoon, Wang Pu led his two hundred retainers, the eight hundred newly surrendered bandits, and three thousand handpicked veteran soldiers chosen by Tang Sheng out of the northern camp, advancing to Leigong Mountain to establish their encampment.

For more than a month to come, Leigong Mountain would serve as the base camp for this army. Here, Wang Pu would subject them to proto-modern military training. These four thousand men were either battle-hardened veterans or ruthless bandit killers; they no longer needed Wang Pu to teach them horsemanship, archery, infantry warfare, or the chaos of melee. Instead, Wang Pu would instruct them in the three-rank volley fire of modern muskets and the throwing of handled Dragon King grenades.

These two firearms were deadly weapons against Mongol cavalry.

Whether these four thousand could master these weapons would directly determine the success of the surprise attack on Guihua. Unlike the previous raid on Shengjing, this was not a fight for survival, nor was it about plundering cattle and sheep, or for the sake of that old eunuch Zhang Zi'an. Wang Pu's sole purpose was to forge his troops.

He aimed to use this battle to transform these men into a brand-new force, one that belonged to him alone. From the day they returned to Ming territory, their loyalty would be to Wang Pu alone, not to the Ming Dynasty.

Wang Pu knew exactly what he was doing.

Returning to Beijing was out of the question, even though a prestigious post as Commander of the Capital Garrison awaited him there, even though a noble Ming princess was prepared to marry him. He knew too well that should he return, he would be shackled at every turn—not just by the distant emperor, but by the countless ministers and nobles filling the capital, who would exhaust him with their machinations.

The title of Capital Garrison Commander was impressive, but in truth, the real authority lay with the eunuchs closest to the Chongzhen Emperor.

Wang Pu had no desire to return to Beijing, but neither would the emperor allow him to stay in Datong.

What could he do?

There was only one way. Wang Pu had to seize the time to train an elite force that would pledge absolute loyalty to him alone. As long as he held such a force, the emperor could do nothing to him.

In history, it was the flight of Wang Pu, Wu Sangui, and the other four Grand Commanders that led to the disaster at Songshan, and though the emperor punished the others, Wu Sangui was spared. Why? The reason was simple: the Wu family held sway in Liaoxi, Wu Sangui commanded a crack unit of personal guards, and his uncle Zu Dashou still manned the defenses at Jinzhou. The emperor could only rely on Wu Sangui to hold the precarious frontier, and thus he was untouchable.

By the same logic, as long as Wang Pu held a crack force of personal retainers, he could find any excuse to linger in Datong and not return to the capital, and the emperor would be powerless to force his hand. By now, Ming authority north of the Yangtze was already crumbling; it was commonplace for regional commanders to ignore imperial orders.

Three days later, at the Leigong Mountain camp, the training grounds nestled in a mountain hollow were alive with fluttering banners and a forest of weapons. Four thousand soldiers stood arrayed in neat formations.

On the reviewing platform, Wang Pu stood tall in full armor, facing the wind. Behind him, from left to right, stood Zhen Youcai, Big Beard, Scarface, Tang Sheng, and Monk Zhang. Zhen Youcai had just been appointed adjutant, while Tang Sheng and Monk Zhang had both been promoted to commanders of a thousand, each leading a company alongside the original commanders, Big Beard and Scarface.

Beneath each company of a thousand were companies of a hundred, each led by a captain.

Beneath each hundred, squads of ten, each led by a squad leader.

The banners snapped in the north wind, which howled over the assembly.

Wang Pu’s gaze blazed as he swept over the troops below. Raising his voice, he shouted, “Brothers, listen well! I don’t care what you were before—whether you drove carts, tilled fields, or even killed and robbed. What I want to say today is: from this day on, we are all brothers!”

Wang Pu’s powerful voice echoed and rolled through the mountain hollow, lingering long.

The eight hundred bandit horsemen and three thousand regulars showed little reaction, but the eyes of Wang Pu’s two hundred retainers suddenly burned with fervor. They had followed Wang Pu to Liaodong, witnessed Big Beard lead fifty men to a doomed mission, and seen Wang Pu storm the execution ground in the capital to save Big Beard. They knew that Wang Pu had used his only imperial pardon to save Xiao Qi and the others. They understood the weight of the word “brother” from Wang Pu’s lips.

Wang Pu drew a deep breath and continued, “I also want to say: you are not just my soldiers; you are my brothers, and I am a brother to each of you!”

“What is a brother? When the enemy’s arrows come flying, the one who shields you with his own body—that is a brother!”

“What is a brother? When one man’s death can save many more, the one who chooses without hesitation to die himself—that is a brother!”

“What is a brother? Brothers are those who fight side by side on the battlefield, who trust each other completely, who entrust their backs to one another without reservation, whose swords and spears are ever pointed at the enemy! Trust that your brothers stand always behind you—even if you fall, they will not retreat a single step!”

As Wang Pu paused, Scarface stepped forward and bellowed, “In the capital, over twenty of us followed the general to storm the execution ground. The court wanted our heads, but it was the general who used his only pardon to save us! He himself was thrown in the imperial prison and nearly killed.”

“And him!” Scarface turned to point at Big Beard and shouted, “To let more brothers live, he willingly led fifty men to lure away the Manchu cavalry. Had luck not favored him, he’d have died in Liaodong! Big Beard, strip off your armor—show the brothers the wounds the Manchus left on you!”

Big Beard stepped forward, removed his armor and tunic, exposing his muscular torso to the biting wind, crisscrossed with scars from blades and arrows—a sight truly harrowing.

“Do you see?” Wang Pu pointed at Big Beard’s wounds, his voice harsh. “Most of these scars were earned in that one battle. From now on, he is a brother to each of you. If need be, he will die for you all without hesitation!”

Now the eyes of the eight hundred bandits blazed with fervor. Ruthless as they were, they revered loyalty and righteousness, and men like Wang Pu and Big Beard, who would risk their lives for their comrades, were the ones they esteemed most.

Wang Pu then turned his gaze to the three thousand veterans, whose faces remained cold and indifferent.

“I know what you’re thinking!” he shouted. “It’s easy to say pretty words, but on the battlefield, it’s a different story! Battle at Sarhu, battle at Fushun, Kaitie, Liaoshen, Dalinhe, Jinzhou—so many times, too many soldiers abandoned their brothers and ran, too many officers deserted their troops and fled. It’s a disgrace—a colossal disgrace!”

The indifference began to fade from the veterans’ faces, replaced by a deep and inexpressible grief and anger.

These three thousand were men who had crawled from heaps of corpses. They, too, had once burned with passion, but years of endless warfare and constant defeat had frozen their hearts. They had become numb, no longer believing in their leaders, not even their brothers-in-arms.

They possessed strong bodies, iron wills, and deadly skills. They were battle-scarred veterans, but on the battlefield, all they wanted was to run—for they knew they could rely on nobody but themselves. Their commanders would abandon them; their comrades would fall away. To survive, they could trust only themselves.

No one would die for them. No one would fight the Manchus for them. They were nothing but lowly soldiers.

Facing their grief-stricken eyes, Wang Pu thumped his chest, the sound echoing, and roared, “I won’t make vain promises—but I will never abandon my brothers on the battlefield. As long as I draw breath, I will fight at your side until the very end!”

Sweeping his gaze over all four thousand men, Wang Pu shouted until he was hoarse, “Remember this: from now on, you are my soldiers, Wang Pu’s men. On the battlefield, you must never abandon your brothers or lose hope and run!”

A long-lost passion returned to the veterans’ eyes. Wang Pu’s words rekindled their longing for dignity. As soldiers, none of them wanted defeat or to be branded cowards, nor to slink home in disgrace. They, too, longed for victory and honor—their current state was forced upon them by circumstances.

They were powerless alone.

But now, everything was different.

Wang Pu was unlike any Ming commander they had ever met. He dared to attack the Manchu stronghold with just over a thousand men; he dared to storm the execution ground to save his men in the capital; he even handed over the emperor’s golden pardon without hesitation. No matter how you looked at it, this was a general like no other.

They had no grand ambitions for glory or riches. Their hopes were simple: to follow Wang Pu, to become real soldiers, to kill some Manchus, so that when they returned home, no one would point at their backs and call them cowards. That was enough.

Forbidden City, Palace of Heavenly Purity.

The urgent dispatch sent by Zhang Zi'an, the eunuch overseeing Datong, had arrived in the capital. In it, Zhang Zi'an reported two matters to Wang Cheng'en: first, that Zhao Santai’s embezzlement of military pay had provoked mutiny among the Datong border troops; second, that Wang Pu was manufacturing firearms in three local foundries.

Wang Cheng'en dared not delay, presenting the letter at once to the Chongzhen Emperor.

After reading the confidential report, the emperor asked, “Cheng'en, what do you make of this?”

“Which matter does Your Majesty mean?” Wang Cheng'en replied.

“Let’s start with Wang Pu,” the emperor said. “He’s rushing the production of firearms in three Datong foundries. What is his intent?”

“Your Majesty, it’s hard to say for certain,” Wang Cheng'en replied.

“Speak boldly,” the emperor commanded.

“Your Majesty, in truth, it’s neither a small nor a large matter. At present, every border commander along the northern front maintains a few thousand private troops. The Imperial Son-in-Law is already the military governor of Datong, and the Wang family is wealthy in Shanxi. It’s not unusual for them to keep a few thousand retainers for household security. I believe these firearms are meant for his private troops.”

The emperor frowned. “Is that all?”

“That is all, in my opinion,” Wang Cheng'en answered. “The Imperial Son-in-Law is somewhat arrogant, but I do not for a moment believe he harbors any rebellious intentions.”

“Wang Cheng'en.” The emperor’s face darkened, his tone icy. “How much has Wang Pu given you?”

“Your Majesty, I beg your insight,” Wang Cheng'en stammered, kneeling in fright. “The Imperial Son-in-Law did send ten thousand taels of silver to my office, but I did not take a single coin. I turned it over in full to the Imperial Treasury, as I have already reported to Your Majesty. My words are not to shield the Imperial Son-in-Law; they are the honest truth.”

“Enough, rise,” the emperor’s expression softened. “At least you have some conscience, knowing the country’s hardships and looking out for me. But your subordinates certainly do not! Take this Zhang Zi'an in Datong—do you really think only Zhao Santai was embezzling pay? Is his own record spotless?”

Wang Cheng'en kowtowed hastily. “Your Majesty, I have been negligent. I beg your judgment.”

“You are too softhearted!” the emperor said, waving a hand. “You must keep a tighter rein on your people. As for Zhang Zi'an, let him be responsible for settling all the back pay owed to over ten thousand Datong border troops.”

Wang Cheng'en bowed and complied, “As Your Majesty commands.”