Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Battle of Jiqing

Outside the city of Jiqing sprawled an unbroken expanse of military camps. In the central command tent, Xu Da sat upright at the highest seat, with more than a dozen generals gathered below.

“General, the Lord Commander and his Black Dragon Cavalry have reached Yangzhou. With the speed of the Black Dragon Cavalry, they will arrive at the latest by noon tomorrow,” one of the generals reported.

“Excellent! As long as we hold the line tonight, once the Lord Commander arrives with his Black Dragon Army, we need no longer fear the Mongol cavalry,” Xu Da replied, overjoyed.

His troops were stationed closest to Jiqing, having arrived outside the city two days prior. As expected, they had barely set up camp before suffering an assault from Mongol horsemen. Xu Da’s army was largely comprised of infantry, and though they eventually repelled fifty thousand Mongol cavalry in yesterday’s battle, they had lost nearly ten thousand seasoned soldiers in the process.

The loss of these battle-hardened veterans pained Xu Da deeply. Now, hearing that Yan Yetian himself was bringing thirty thousand Black Dragon Cavalry, Xu Da could not contain his delight.

Every member of the Black Dragon Cavalry was a master of martial arts, each one worth ten ordinary soldiers. Even if the Mongol cavalry in Jiqing numbered two hundred thousand, Xu Da believed they would not withstand the onslaught of the Black Dragon Cavalry.

After midday, Feng Sheng’s naval forces arrived, stationing themselves on the banks of the Yangtze to form a pincer movement with Xu Da, casting a covetous eye over Jiqing. Thus, on this day, Prince Ruyang merely sent cavalry to harass Xu Da’s troops.

After a quiet night, as dawn approached, the camp cooks of Xu Da’s army rose to prepare breakfast. Suddenly, the small pebbles on the ground began to jump gently.

A cook noticed this and felt a faint unease. Moments later, the pebbles quivered more violently, and a thunderous rumble rolled in from the distance.

“Not good! Cavalry’s coming!” the cook shouted as he ran back toward the camp.

Though he had never fought in battle himself, years spent with the army had taught him that this commotion could only mean a large cavalry force was charging straight for the camp.

“What’s all this racket?” a quartermaster, roused by the shouting, stuck his head out of the tent and seized the cook by the collar.

“Sir, it’s bad! A large cavalry force is headed this way!” the cook replied anxiously.

“Cavalry? Could the Mongols be attacking the camp at this hour?” The quartermaster was instantly wide awake at the news. “Go at once and inform General Xu!” he ordered the cook.

The cook spun around and dashed toward the central command, while the quartermaster rushed back into his tent to rouse his men, sending them off in all directions to alert everyone to arm themselves at once.

Within moments, the entire camp was fully mobilized, with soldiers assembling outside under their officers’ command.

In the command tent, Xu Da already wore his armor and hefted his great saber. “Let’s go! I wish to see how Prince Ruyang intends to break through my camp.”

The commotion outside Xu Da’s camp did not go unnoticed by the Yuan forces within Jiqing. The news was swiftly reported up the chain of command.

Before long, a burly man with a thick beard appeared atop the city wall. As he passed, Yuan soldiers saluted him and addressed him as “Grand Marshal.”

This man was none other than the Grand Marshal of the Yuan army, Prince Ruyang, Köke Temür.

At his side walked a youth of about twenty with a heroic bearing, and a girl of twelve or thirteen. Though the girl was young, she was clad in military attire, her hair braided, her face brimming with spirit—a sight both valiant and striking.

“Father, what is happening in the rebel Xu Da’s camp to cause such a stir? Is he planning to attack the city?” the young girl asked curiously, watching the distant upheaval.

“No, Minmin, look over there…” Suddenly, Wang Baobao pointed eastward in alarm.

Prince Ruyang and Zhao Min looked together. At the far edge of the eastern plain, the flat earth began to undulate like waves.

“What is that?” Zhao Min asked in confusion.

“Cavalry. It seems that man has arrived,” Prince Ruyang replied, his tone heavy, his expression dark.

Wang Baobao and Zhao Min now realized who had come.

That man was the bane of all Mongols, the thorn in the side of the entire Mongol court—their greatest humiliation.

He had once stormed the forbidden palace, pinned Emperor Shun of Yuan beneath his foot, and, with a scornful gaze, declared, “You are not worthy of dying by my sword!”

He had also breached Prince Ruyang’s residence many times, entering and leaving at will. On his first visit, he had easily captured Ah Da of the Vajra Sect. A year later, he returned and took away the Deer Staff Elder, treating their estate as his own backyard—coming and going as he pleased.

Now, this man had become the greatest rebel under heaven, leading hundreds of thousands of troops to seize cities and lands, nearly driving all Mongol forces south of the Yangtze into extinction.

Prince Ruyang knew well that the battle for Jiqing would decide the fate of the entire Yuan dynasty. Thus, he had brought not only two hundred thousand of the finest Mongol cavalry, but also several dozen masters from the Tibetan Lamas, intent on annihilating the Black Banner Army once and for all.

He was determined to kill that man and wash away his humiliation.