Sarhu Sorrowful Sacrifice (Upper and Lower)

Author: Zhao Chunlin
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 darkness. Among the distant shadows of the mountains, the camp tents and banners were scattered and disordered, like black paper-cuttings pasted on the pale blue eastern sky. The morning moon was as pale as a dead man's face. The morning star had just peeked out from the far mountains, stretching its bright starlight, like a newly lit emergency beacon fire. On the half-slope of Gaoshan, the late ruler of Later Jin, Nurhaci, stood firmly before a huge rock, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he gazed across the mountain. Even at rest, his demeanor exuded a coldness and sternness.
Just as dawn was breaking, under a layer of transparent mist, the Hun River seemed still not fully awake as it meandered from east to west along its black riverbed, its serpentine body spreading like a giant python, the surface shimmering like mercury. The late ruler, clad in gold-plated armor, stood motionless, like a golden statue. A western breeze occasionally stirred the hem of his cloak, rustling the long tassels of his dragon and phoenix ceremonial sword. Behind the late ruler stood a middle-aged man, half as tall as a black pagoda—this was Huhhan, the trusted bodyguard of the late ruler. From the slope to the valley at the foot of the mountain, the camps of the Eight Banners army stretched out, their flags fluttering gently in the western wind, occasionally mingling with the neighing of warhorses drifting in the cool morning breeze. Though the colors of the banners were still indistinct, the late ruler, as familiar with the lines of his own palm as he was with the positions of his troops, could sense the locations of each banner's soldiers.
Across a small river, on the opposite earthen hill, stood the camps 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 they had observed: the number of enemy troops, their equipment, the configuration of their large cannons, the identities of their commanders, and every detail they could gather, all reaching the late ruler. Though it was still early and the distance was great, what he saw was just a blur of chaos. Yet he watched it intently, as if facing a lavish feast, pondering where to strike first.
The late ruler was exactly sixty years old, tall and robust, his back still straight as an arrow. He possessed an innate dignity, commanding respect without anger. His long, square face was forged from steel and iron, framed by thick, straight eyebrows and long phoenix eyes that glinted with a chilling, blade-like sharpness. His large earlobes, clean-shaven chin, and two tail-like moustaches—each tip slightly curled—only added to his regal bearing and sternness.
"Huhhan, send someone to call Li Yongfang here immediately to see the ruler." The late 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 behind him.
Huhhan was forty-two years old, the youngest of the Five Great Ministers of Later Jin. Originally from 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 people. At the time, Nurhaci had just risen in power and desperately needed soldiers. The arrival of the Huh family was a great boon to him. Soon after, Hulara was killed in battle, and Nurhaci adopted Huhhan as his son, giving him the surname Gioro and appointing him as a First-Class Minister. Grateful for his adoptive father's nurturing, Huhhan vowed to repay him with his life.
As an adult, Huhhan was tall and strong, with the strength of a tiger. His horsemanship and marksmanship were among the best in the army, and he had earned in Later Jin's unification efforts. The late ruler often praised him as "my Xu Chu and Dian Wei" or compared him to "Fang Kui, Qin Qiong, and Jing De." In his conduct, he was rough yet meticulous, possessing a carefulness unmatched by his burly physique. Over the thirty years he served the late ruler, he never made a major mistake.
Li Yongfang was quickly summoned, accompanied by two Bayalara. He arrived breathlessly on the mountain path, like a prisoner under guard, dressed in the armor of the Red Banner. He was in his early thirties, with a sharp, gaunt face, narrow nose, short philtrum, and sunken lips, his lowered brows revealing a pleading demeanor. 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 late ruler had pardoned him, but Li Yongfang still lived in fear, dreading 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 sent me for?"
"Li Yongfang, rise and speak," the late ruler said, his gaze dropping from the tip of his nose. His expression was unreadable—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 need not observe these rituals."
Li Yongfang's tight heart relaxed slightly. After bowing his head again, he rose and stood bowing to one side of the late ruler, his eyes occasionally glancing at the ruler's expression.
"Li Yongfang, do you know this person, Zhang Chengyin?" The late ruler suddenly asked after a moment's pause.
"Ruler, as far as I know, Zhang Chengyin is the son of the famous general Zhang Chen, from a military family skilled in both literature and martial arts. His horsemanship and marksmanship are renowned in the Liaodong army."
"I know all that," the late ruler interrupted eagerly. "Do you know what books he loves to read?"
"I... I'm not entirely sure, but I believe he enjoys reading the Art of War," Li Yongfang replied.
"The Art of War—every general should read it, but that is not enough." The late ruler's phoenix eyes flashed again, and Li Yongfang took this as a sign of killing intent, his heart tightening once more. The late 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, some of whom he was quite familiar with. He steadied his nerves and spoke as clearly as possible.
You Shigong, a talented and brave general; Liu Yujie, a wine-loving warrior with little strategy; Song Wenjian, a smooth-tongued and obsequious official; Zou Tianding, who was mediocre but eager for advancement. The late ruler listened intently, occasionally interjecting questions. Li Yongfang answered everything he knew in detail, but whenever his answers were rambling or missed the point, the late ruler would cut him off.
P2-3