Sarhu Sorrowful Sacrifice - (Upper and Lower)

Author: Zhao Chunlin / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-07-01
Features: On the twenty-first day of the fourth month in the forty-sixth year of the Wanli reign of the Ming Dynasty, at the pre-dawn hour of utter darkness, the shadows of distant mountains intertwined with the uneven and chaotic camp fences and banners, like black paper-cuttings, clinging to the pale eggshell-colored sky in the east. The morning moon was as pale as a dead man's face. The morning star had just peeked out from the distant mountains, stretching its brilliant starlight, like a newly lit beacon fire in dire need. On the halfway slope of Gaoshan, the old ruler of Later Jin, Nurhaci, stood tall before a massive rock, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he gazed across the mountain. Even in his leisure moments, his demeanor exuded a coldness and sternness.
Just as dawn was breaking, shrouded in a transparent mist, the Hun River seemed still not fully awake as it snaked westward from east to west, its serpentine body spreading across the black riverbed, its surface shimmering like mercury. The ruler, clad in gold-plated armor, stood motionless, like a golden statue. A western breeze occasionally lifted the hem of his cloak, stirring the long tassels of his dragon and phoenix ceremonial sword. Behind the ruler stood a middle-aged man, half as tall as a black tower—this was Huhhan, the trusted bodyguard and Daling of the ruler. From the slope to the valley at the foot of the mountain, the encampments of the Eight Banners army stretched out, their flags fluttering gently in the west wind, occasionally mingling with the neighing of warhorses drifting in the crisp morning breeze. Though the colors of the banners were still indistinct, the ruler, as familiar with his own palm prints, could sense the positions of the troops of each banner by instinct. Across a small river, on the opposite earthen hill, stood the camp of the Ming Dynasty's Liaodong army, who had only arrived the night before. In just one night, Later Jin's scouts had scurried back and forth, reporting all the details they had gathered—enemy numbers, equipment, the configuration of large cannons, the status of commanders, and everything else they had discovered—to the ruler.
Because it was still early and the distance was great, what could be seen from afar was only a muddled haze. Yet the ruler stared at it for a long time, as if facing a lavish banquet, pondering where to strike first. The ruler was exactly sixty years old this year, tall and robust, with a straight back. He possessed an innate, imposing aura, commanding respect without anger. His long, somewhat narrow face was forged from steel and iron, framed by thick, straight brows and long phoenix eyes, their dark pupils gleaming with a chilling, blade-like sharpness. His earlobes were large, and he was clean-shaven except for two rows of swallow-tailed sideburns, the tips of which curled slightly, further accentuating his regal dignity and sternness.
"Hey, send someone to call Li Yongfang here immediately to see me," the ruler's voice, like a bell, resonated with a lingering echo.
"Yes, Father Ruler!" Huhhan replied, his tall figure as agile as a leopard. He turned abruptly and walked away, his long cloak flapping.
Huhhan was forty-two years old, the youngest of the Five Grandees of Later Jin. Originally belonging to the Tongjia clan, his father, Hulara, was the chief of Yargu Village. In the sixteenth year of the Wanli reign, when Huhhan was only twelve, he followed his father and his clan to join the Jianzhou. At the time, Nurhaci had just risen in power and desperately needed manpower. The arrival of the Huh family was like a lifeline to him. Soon after, Hulara was killed in battle, and Nurhaci adopted Huhhan as his son, giving him the surname Jueluo and appointing him as a First-Class Minister. Huhhan was deeply grateful for his adoptive father's nurturing and vowed to repay him with his life.
As an adult, Huhhan was tall and strong, with the strength of a tiger. His horsemanship and archery skills were among the best in the army, and he had earned in Later Jin's unification efforts, often breaking through enemy lines, capturing flags, and slaying generals. The ruler often praised him in front of others as "my Xu Chu and Dian Wei" or compared him to "Fan Kuang, Qin Qiong, and Jing De." In matters of conduct, he was rough but meticulous, possessing a careful and prudent nature that contrasted with his robust physique. Over the thirty years he served the ruler, he had never made a major mistake.
Li Yongfang was quickly summoned, accompanied by two Bayalara. He arrived breathlessly on the small mountain path, like a prisoner under escort. He had changed into his Manchu attire, wearing armor from the. He was in his early thirties, with a sharp, narrow face and no flesh on his cheeks. His nose was long and his philtrum short, his lips thin and drawn down in a meek expression. He had surrendered after the fall of Fushun Pass and was the first Ming official to defect to Later Jin since the war began. The ruler had pardoned him, but Li Yongfang still felt uneasy, fearing that any slight mistake could cost him his life.
Stepping forward a few steps, Li Yongfang knelt on the rocky mountain path, then crawled two more steps before bowing his head, murmuring, "Long live the Ruler, ten thousand years! I do not know what task you have called me for?"
"Li Yongfang, stand up and speak," the ruler's gaze fell from his nose bridge to his lips, his expression indistinct—neither arrogant nor disdainful. "This is a military camp. No such grand ceremonies are needed here. As long as you are loyal and diligent in serving Later Jin, you do not need these rituals."
Li Yongfang's heart relaxed slightly, and after bowing his head again, he rose and stood with a bow to one side of the ruler, occasionally glancing at his expression.
"Li Yongfang, do you know this person, Zhang Chengyin?" The ruler suddenly asked after a moment's pause.
"Your Majesty, as far as I know, Zhang Chengyin is the son of the renowned general Zhang Chen. Born into a military family, he is skilled in both literature and martial arts. His horsemanship and archery are among the best in the Liaodong army."
"I know all that," the ruler interrupted eagerly. "Do you know what books he loves to read?"
"I... I'm not entirely sure, but I think he probably enjoys reading the Art of War," Li Yongfang replied.
"The Art of War—every general should read it, but that is not enough." The ruler's long phoenix eyes flashed again. Li Yongfang took this as a sign of killing intent and his heart tightened once more. The ruler then asked, "How much do you know about the other generals under his command?"
Li Yongfang knew more about this, as they were in the same camp and held similar ranks, with some of them being quite close to him. He tried to steady his nerves and spoke as clearly and thoroughly as possible.
You Shigong, a talented and brave general; Liu Yujie, who loved wine and was brave but lacking in strategy; Song Wenjian, smooth and cunning, always eager to curry favor with superiors; Zu Tianding, who was ordinary but keen on intrigue.
The ruler listened intently, occasionally interjecting questions. Li Yongfang answered everything he knew in detail, but whenever his answers were too lengthy or missed the point, he was cut off by the ruler.
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