Chapter 22: Movements of the Ming Imperial Army!

Just one strike.

The charging Tatar soldier was decapitated in an instant.

"Killed a Tatar infantryman, gained 20 points of stamina," the system interface prompted.

But Zhu Ying did not pause, his warhorse surging forward. His saber danced through the air. Each swing descended with the force of a desperate, final stand—a blade no ordinary man could hope to parry.

In moments, several more Tatar soldiers lay dead at his hands.

"Killed a Tatar infantryman, gained 20 points of strength."
"Killed a Tatar infantryman, gained 20 points of speed..."

More notifications followed, his attributes steadily rising. Following Zhu Ying’s lead, the cavalry of the First Thousand-Man Battalion charged forward, mercilessly cutting down the Tatar soldiers who dared to resist. With hundreds of cavalrymen surrounding and annihilating them, the hundred or so Tatar soldiers were slaughtered in the blink of an eye.

The remaining Tatar civilians, now trapped within the cavalry’s encirclement, stared at the surrounding Ming troops with a mixture of terror and hatred.

"Thousand-Man Commander," Zhang Wu asked, gesturing toward the thousands of Tatars, "how should we handle these people?"

Zhu Ying turned his head to look at him and retorted, "If the people of our Great Ming fell into the hands of these Tatars, what would they do to them?"

"The men would be killed, and the women would be violated," Zhang Wu answered without hesitation. As a border soldier in the north, he knew the reality all too well. Because they bordered Northern Yuan, villages were frequently slaughtered and clans wiped out whenever the Tatars invaded. War was inherently brutal. Without the civilizing influence of the Han people, the Tatars of the north worshipped only the most primitive form of slaughter; where they invaded, order ceased to exist.

As someone reborn, Zhu Ying knew full well how the Tatars would treat the Han people in the future—the Three Massacres of Yangzhou and Jiading, the enforced queues with the decree "keep your hair and lose your head, or keep your head and lose your hair." Countless Han people would be butchered.

"In that case," Zhu Ying said coldly, turning his gaze back to the crowd, "follow the rules of the north. Any who stand taller than a cart wheel shall be executed."

With so many people, the Great Ming had neither the rations to feed them nor the manpower to guard them. To bring them along would only be a burden.

Since that was the case, they must eliminate the enemy’s vitality. This was war; nothing else mattered.

"By your command, Commander." Zhang Wu and Fan Qing immediately obeyed. With a wave of their hands, the cavalry dismounted and used the height of the cart wheels as a measure.

Instantly, the air was filled with wails and screams.

Zhu Ying watched it all without a ripple of emotion. If the situation were reversed, the Tatars would be even more cruel to the Ming people, leaving no survivors.

"War," Zhu Ying mused coldly, looking at the scene with a sense of grim reflection. "In this era, the Ming has just begun, yet in the future, the Tatars will seize the Central Plains and enslave the Han people. But since I, Zhu Ying, have come, I will never let that happen. If that day truly comes, I will live on, gaining the strength to build a force capable of exterminating the Tatars, founding a nation, and carving out an empire. The massacres and the traitors of the future—I will never let them appear again. Since I am here, I must do something."

For days, since the skirmish at the border, the Tatars had shown little resistance, rapidly retreating toward their larger tribes. Following the orders of Bu Wan, the Ming army was in full pursuit, killing every Tatar they encountered. After taking command of the First Cavalry Battalion, Zhu Ying had followed orders, marching north and cutting down numerous retreating soldiers and young, able-bodied Tatars along the way.

"Commander," Zhang Wu reported as he rode up, "all Tatars taller than a cart wheel have been executed."

"Seize all their grain, then continue north to rendezvous with the main army," Zhu Ying instructed. "From now on, treat these Tatars the same way: kill their able-bodied men and cut off their food supplies. If they manage to survive and flee back to their tribes, that is their luck, but they will be a drain on the Tatars' own rations."

"Understood," Zhang Wu replied respectfully.

"The Tatar border has collapsed; they must have already requested reinforcements from the Yuan court," Zhu Ying thought to himself. "And given the strength of the Jianzhou Tatars, they are surely gathering a massive force, along with the Northern Yuan. A true, bitter battle is coming. I wonder how far the imperial main army has advanced."

Though the Danning border troops were currently tearing through the north and the Tatars were scattering, these were merely the border tribes. To truly subdue the Tatars would require the total annihilation of their clans, which was nearly impossible. The greatest challenge in the north was the vast, unpredictable terrain; the Tatars could flee, regroup, and strike again. This was precisely why every Central Plains dynasty had faced the threat of the north.

...

The tribal court of the Jianzhou Tatars!

In this vast northern wilderness, "Tatar" was the collective term used by the Han people for the tribes of the north. The Jianzhou Tatars were not a single entity but divided into three branches, with the Jianzhou group being the most powerful, while the other two remained further north.

"Chieftain," a Tatar general reported respectfully to Ahatsu, who sat upon the throne. "The Ming army has invaded our territory in force, slaughtering many of our people. They are approaching the Blue Flag Tribe. While there is a garrison there, the Ming force is significant, and I fear they will not be able to hold."

"Do not panic," Ahatsu said, his voice deep and unconcerned. "The Ming army will not be jumping about for much longer. I have already requested aid from the Great Yuan. General Naghachu has already dispatched reinforcements."

"Chieftain," the general interjected, "the Han people are no longer the same as they were under the Yuan court. In this conflict, we have lost over ten thousand of our finest warriors and thousands of warhorses. Thousands more of our kin have been hunted down. If we truly clash head-on with the Ming, our tribe may face total ruin."

In these tribes, there was no distinction between civil and martial officials; they believed only in power and plunder. Yet, some were keenly aware of the current strength of the Ming Empire.

"If it were only our tribe, we could indeed not contend with the Ming," Ahatsu replied, his eyes burning with greed. "But the Great Yuan still stands with a million brave soldiers. One day, they will strike back into the Central Plains and destroy this Ming. We follow the decree of the Great Yuan, and in return, General Naghachu has promised us a piece of fertile land, allowing us to enter Liaodong. A migration to the south! Besides the old, direct clans of the Yuan, who else would be granted such an opportunity?"

Clearly, he had been entirely swayed by Naghachu’s promise. This was the fundamental reason he followed the Yuan court's mandate to make an enemy of the Ming.