Chapter Eighty-Eight: Discipline

A Mongol warrior, brandishing a curved saber, howled as he rushed a Ming army captain. Before his blade could even reach the mounted officer, another Ming horseman came thundering up from behind him. Steel flashed, and the Mongol’s back was split open from end to end, bone glistening white as raw flesh burst apart, while a hot heart still throbbed fiercely in his chest.

A strangled cry tore from the Mongol’s throat, and he crashed stiffly onto the cold ground.

The Ming captain dismounted, stepped over the corpse, and kicked open the broken wooden door of a low earthen hut behind it. A dim oil lamp revealed the scene inside. In the weak light, two young Mongol women cowered in a corner, sheltering a Mongol child, staring at the terrifying officer with eyes wide in fear.

He gave a low, predatory chuckle. Looking back, he shouted, “The women in this hut, and everything in it, are mine. No one is to touch a thing!”

The dozen or so Ming cavalrymen behind him burst into laughter.

“If you want women, go take your own!”

With that, the captain strode into the hut, slammed the door shut from within, and soon the frightened cries of the Mongol women rose from inside, together with the captain’s triumphant sounds, while the tearing hiss of fabric joined in between. Even a fool would know what he was doing. Wang Pu’s military code forbade his men from abusing Ming women; it said nothing about Mongol women.

A reminder: this is only a fictional novel. Do not equate the Mongols in the story with the Mongol people today.

Half an hour later.

Under the escort of Zhen Youcai, Xiao Qi, and several dozen personal guards, Wang Pu had already appeared outside the tent of the Tumet khan. The khan’s main yurt and the surrounding tents were now in utter disorder. All over the ground lay dead Mongol warriors, and the air was thick with the stench of blood, so pungent it turned the stomach.

Wang Pu stepped into the Tumet khan’s yurt. On the ground lay exquisite Persian carpets, and upon them two scantily clad Mongol women sprawled dead. The blood seeping from beneath their bodies had stained a large swath of the carpet red. They had not been killed by the Ming troops, but by the Tumet khan himself.

Clearly, he had been unwilling to let his beloved women become toys for Han men.

Inside the great tent stood several rows of finely crafted wooden racks, arrayed with a dazzling collection of rare antiques and curios. There were porcelain pieces, earthenware, and bronze vessels. There were even several sets of thread-bound books. At the north end of the tent stood the Tumet khan’s throne, covered with white tiger hide. Behind it, hanging on the wall, was a carved ornamental bow inlaid with gold and jade, as well as a treasured saber with a rhinoceros-horn sheath.

It seemed the Tumet khan had fled in such haste that he had not even had time to take a single thing with him.

Wang Pu picked up a set of thread-bound books from the rack and looked them over. They were a Song-dynasty edition of the Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals. He had never expected that a Mongol tribal leader could also have such cultivated tastes.

Turning back toward the night sky, he saw that all of Guihua City had fallen into uproar.

The thousands of Ming soldiers who had stormed into the city were looting their spoils without restraint. Wang Pu knew that Mongol women had become spoils as well, but he had no intention of interfering. Yes, his military code only forbade his men from abusing Ming women. As for Mongol women, they were not protected by his regulations.

For in this age, the Mongols were the enemies of the Ming. They were not yet the subjects of the Ming.

The Tumet people had been caught unprepared, and the Ming army had taken Guihua with ease. This had been entirely within Wang Pu’s expectations. The reason was simple: the Mongols had gone too long without being attacked by Ming forces. They had even forgotten when the last Ming incursion into Mongolia had been.

Moreover, Wang Pu had made ample preparations for this surprise strike. With forethought against unpreparedness, and four thousand elite troops against a mere four hundred Mongol horsemen, if victory had not been theirs, Heaven itself would have been unjust.

“General!”

Liu Liu suddenly came puffing up before Wang Pu and reported loudly, “All the Mongols still resisting in the city have been wiped out. Word from the riders says that about two hundred Mongol cavalrymen tried to break out from the north, west, and south gates, but all have been killed!”

Zhen Youcai glanced at Wang Pu’s back and asked, “Have we found the Tumet khan?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Liu Liu replied. “No definite news has come from the gates.”

“Send Big Beard and the others to look,” said Zhen Youcai. “Alive if possible, dead if not!”

“No need,” Wang Pu said, raising a hand. “A mere Tumet khan is no great figure. If he can be taken alive, so much the better. If not, his corpse will do.”

Zhen Youcai’s eyes turned, and understanding dawned at once.

If the Tumet khan were captured alive, then according to the agreement Wang Pu had reached with Zhang Zian before the campaign, the great merit would ultimately fall to Zhang Zian. Since it would merely be sewing wedding garments for another man, there was no need to care too much.

In fact, the Tumet khan was indeed dead.

When he fled in panic from the west gate with several dozen personal guards and a few dozen Tumet nobles in attendance, he ran straight into the muzzle of the Ming firearms troops. Stationed outside the west gate was the eight hundred veteran soldiers led by Big Beard, each armed with the new matchlock muskets.

These matchlocks were not only lighter than the Ming army’s existing weapons, but had greater range and accuracy as well.

The Tumet khan, together with his escort of several dozen guards and the Tumet nobles, died beneath the Ming musketeers’ barrage before they could even put up a proper resistance. Fewer than ten guards managed to flee back into the city, only to be hacked down by Ming blades after the troops forced their way inside.

It was destined to be a night of madness and bloodshed.

When the sun rose again, the clamorous city of Guihua finally fell silent. The Ming soldiers, who had raged through the entire night, turned from beasts back into warriors, and marched out of the city in formation to assemble. Long before the campaign, Wang Pu had told them that once they entered Guihua they could plunder to their hearts’ content and do whatever they pleased.

But by the next morning, everything was over.

More than four thousand soldiers assembled in squads of ten. Following the commands Wang Pu had taught them, they counted off from one to ten. The squad leaders reported their casualties to the captains of the hundred-man units, the hundred-man captains reported to the thousand-man commanders, and the four thousand-man commanders finally reported the casualty figures to Wang Pu.

The Ming casualties were quickly tallied: only one man seriously wounded and two lightly injured. The seriously wounded man had not been cut down by Mongol horsemen, but had instead fallen and injured himself when his horse stumbled. It had been a nearly flawless long-distance raid. A convergence of chance and necessity had produced this unbelievable and total victory.

The three thousand veterans selected from the Datong frontier troops were overjoyed. They had never before won such a refreshing, resounding victory. Though the three-day forced march had been grueling, to use the grumbling of these rough soldiers, it had been so cold they nearly lost their parts. Yet now, with the successful capture of Guihua City, all resentment had vanished like smoke.

The eight hundred mounted raiders were equally elated. Before, when they robbed and pillaged, their grandest achievement had been the slaughter of some mountain pass or village. But now they had stormed a Mongol city. In that city lay mountains of furs, and countless cattle and sheep.

Unlike the soldiers’ exultation, Wang Pu’s face showed not the slightest trace of joy.

In truth, he had no mind for happiness. What was there to be pleased about? He had not led this surprise attack on Guihua for cattle, sheep, furs, or treasure, and certainly not to rid the Ming realm of northern border troubles. His purpose was only one thing: to train his troops.

Wang Pu wanted to forge these four thousand veterans into a disciplined, iron-blooded army, one utterly loyal to him. Everything had only just begun. He was still far from that goal, and there was much work yet to do. The first thing he had to do now was enforce strict discipline.

A true iron-blooded army required two things above all else: discipline and spirit.

The forging of spirit depended on the personal charisma of the commander. As the commander was, so would his army be. If the commander was a man who fled, then the army he led would be an army of runners. If he was arrogant and overbearing, then his soldiers would become a pack of proud and savage bravos.

Forging such spirit required time. There was no need to rush, and indeed no way to rush it.

Wang Pu had never expected that by one or two surprise raids he could transform this band of beaten old campaigners and habitual raiders into a group of indestructible, unyielding iron warriors who would howl at the sight of an enemy.

But discipline was different.

Spirit could be forged slowly, but discipline had to be driven into the hearts of the soldiers in the shortest possible time. In a sense, discipline was even more important than spirit. Without strict discipline, no matter how capable an army might be, it was nothing more than a band of proud and dangerous men, a pack of inhuman beasts.

What Wang Pu needed was not a herd of soulless animals, but a force of disciplined iron-blooded warriors.

Riding to the front, Wang Pu shouted sharply, “All troops, listen to my order: form ranks!”

“Form ranks!”

“Move it. Stand straight.”

“Don’t hunch over. Have you not eaten?”

“You there. Are you deaf? Stand up straight!”

At Wang Pu’s command, the four thousand-man commanders and more than forty captains sprang into action, shouting at their own veteran ruffians to form up. After a while of noisy confusion, the four thousand men finally stood in order, each leading his horse, arranged in long columns by hundred-man units.

Wang Pu cleared his throat and bellowed, “Do you still remember what I told you? From the day you entered Lei Gong Mountain Camp, we were all brothers. What is a brother? A brother is someone who, when necessary, can die for another, who can block arrows for another when danger comes. If you are brothers, then you must be open and honest. If you are brothers, then you must never hide anything from one another!”

More than four thousand soldiers, whether they could hear him clearly or not, strained their ears.

Wang Pu roared on, “And what does the sixth rule of the seven military regulations say?”

“Hoarding spoils is punishable by eighty lashes in public!”

The soldiers in front who could hear him answered with a thunderous roar.

“Good!” Wang Pu nodded and shouted sternly, “Very good. Since everyone remembers the regulations, I will say no more. However, I have decided to give any confused brothers one last chance. Anyone who comes forward and hands over the gold, silver, and jewels he has hidden may avoid those eighty lashes!”

No sooner had he spoken than more than four thousand soldiers began murmuring among themselves. Soon, one soldier after another came forward obediently, handing over the gold and silver and fine valuables he had secretly hidden in his robes, placing them dutifully before Wang Pu’s horse. In no time at all, piles of gold, silver, jewels, and costly sable and fox furs had accumulated before Wang Pu.

When no more soldiers came forward on their own, Wang Pu shouted again, “Are there any more hiding things for themselves?”

The four thousand men were silent as graves.

“I know there are still some hiding their spoils!” Wang Pu barked. “Now I order you: immediately surrender all concealed valuables!”

The soldiers looked at one another, but no one stepped forward.

“Good!” Wang Pu nodded, then asked sharply, “I’ll ask you once more: what is the first of the seven military regulations?”

“Disobey military orders, and you die without pardon!”

Every soldier who could hear Wang Pu’s voice responded at once. Yet this time, their reply was no longer as neat as before. These old campaign rogues could no longer tell what Wang Pu intended. They had assumed he had gathered everyone merely to praise them a little, but now it seemed to be something entirely different.

A cold, killing light suddenly rose at the corner of Wang Pu’s mouth. He turned and barked, “Xiao Qi, seize them!”

“Yes!”

Xiao Qi answered with a crash like thunder, turned back, swept a hand, and shouted sharply, “Take them down!”

The four guards who had long been standing ready instantly rushed into the neat ranks of the four thousand men. Soon they had dragged out two of the old soldier-ruffians. When Wang Pu had questioned the army just now, those two had looked distinctly strange, yet they had stubbornly refused to step forward. Xiao Qi had been watching them for a long while.