Chapter 146 Esen Flew into a Rage

The more than three hundred cavalrymen who had fled in defeat returned to the old camp, immediately stirring unrest among the Oirat forces.

When it came to the Ming army, the Oirats had only one word to describe them: utterly fragile.

In the successive battles at Tumu Fortress, the Ming army suffered crushing defeats, losing a large number of elite troops and high-ranking generals. They appeared far from a formidable force.

Because of this, the confidence of the Oirat soldiers soared; they no longer regarded the Ming troops as a threat and were eager to engage the Ming garrison in a real, brutal fight.

Yet this time, seeking revenge for the Ming army's shooting of their envoy, Esen, the mighty Oirat general, was dispatched with three thousand elite cavalry to harass the Ming capital’s defenders.

They had assumed that even without significant gains, the three thousand cavalry could return unscathed without any trouble.

But unexpectedly, only a few hours later, a group of soldiers came fleeing back, looking battered and clearly defeated.

Since the generals guarding the camp gates deliberately concealed the news, the Oirat soldiers had not learned of the crushing loss and believed the rest of their forces were still behind, so after an initial commotion, calm quickly returned.

Inside the central command tent, Esen was drinking with Zhu Qizhen.

The capital region was Zhu Qizhen’s hometown. Though Esen was a guest, he acted as host, inviting Zhu Qizhen and his close attendants to visit.

Esen had his reasons: the capital was Zhu Qizhen’s former domain and was close to the imperial palace. If he could get Zhu Qizhen’s cooperation to negotiate benefits from the Ming court, he could reward his soldiers and boost morale. A mere meal was a small price to pay.

Thus, at the banquet, Esen lavished praise on Zhu Qizhen and encouraged him to drink frequently.

Zhu Qizhen, back in his old home, was in high spirits and eagerly accepted Esen’s toasts, raising his cup repeatedly. He spoke at length about the customs of the capital, acting as if he were still the emperor.

When Zhu Qizhen had become slightly tipsy, Esen, speaking through a leader who understood Chinese, subtly broached the idea of having Zhu Qizhen demand concessions from the Ming court. He even hinted that if the offer was right, he might send him back to reclaim the throne.

Zhu Qizhen, somewhat intoxicated, was overjoyed and beat his chest, promising to write letters to the Empress Dowager to reward Esen and the Oirat leaders with palace treasures, assuring them this time they would be satisfied.

Nearby, Yuan Bin whispered warnings to Zhu Qizhen, cautioning that the Oirats might be deceiving him. But Zhu Qizhen, drunk and carefree, ignored his counsel entirely.

Standing to the side, Xi Ning sneered repeatedly. Yuan Bin was loyal indeed, clinging tightly to Zhu Qizhen’s favor at such a critical moment, oblivious that in this tent, only Esen truly held power, and Zhu Qizhen was nothing but a mere nobody.

Just as Xi Ning contemplated how to deal with Yuan Bin to better manipulate Zhu Qizhen, an Oirat soldier rushed in, babbling something to Esen.

Upon hearing the news, Esen’s face darkened sharply. He stood abruptly, and when he glanced at the other leaders, they too looked shocked and incredulous. One even dropped his wine cup in surprise.

Everyone but the intoxicated Zhu Qizhen immediately sensed the shift in atmosphere. The tent fell into a suffocating silence.

After finishing his drink, Zhu Qizhen saw the Oirat leaders stand and assumed they were about to toast him again. He picked up the wine jug, poured himself a full cup, and smiled, “My lords, let us drink deeply from this cup.”

Unexpectedly, Esen suddenly turned his gaze upon him, his eyes bloodshot and fierce as if about to devour him.

Zhu Qizhen was startled, sobered somewhat, swallowed nervously, and asked, “Grand Tutor, why do you not raise your glass?”

Before he could finish, Esen erupted in rage, shouting in Oirat and hurling the wine cup from the table at him.

Clang!

Fortunately, Zhu Qizhen’s instincts were quick; he dodged aside just in time. The cup shattered on the ground behind him.

Had Yue Qian been present, he would have understood Esen’s words, which were a vehement insult to Zhu Qizhen’s mother, Empress Dowager Sun, and his female ancestors.

“Grand Tutor… why this anger?” Zhu Qizhen stammered, his face flushed and completely sober now.

“Hmph!”

Esen glared sharply at him, then swept his sleeve and exited the tent. The other leaders followed, leaving Zhu Qizhen and his attendants exchanging wide-eyed glances.

Watching Esen’s retreating figure, Xi Ning’s eyes flickered. He immediately turned to Zhu Qizhen and said, “Your Majesty, something terrible has happened in the Oirat camp. I will go inquire for you.”

Without waiting for Zhu Qizhen’s consent, he dashed out of the tent.

Yuan Bin gritted his teeth and hissed, “The Oirats’ disrespect toward Your Majesty is one thing, but Xi Ning’s insolence is unforgivable. He deserves to be punished for gross insubordination!”

“Alas…”

Zhu Qizhen sank back into his chair, his face heavy with sorrow as he sighed deeply.

Meanwhile, Esen had left the tent and asked the reporting soldier, “Where are the returning men?”

“They are waiting at the camp gate.”

“Bring horses!”

Since the Oirat camp stretched for miles, and the central command was some distance from the gate, Esen was eager to learn the truth quickly and had no patience to walk.

Esen left with several leaders, and seeing this, Xi Ning also ran after them.

Though Zhu Qizhen was a captive, his imperial status meant Esen did not overly restrict his movements within the camp, as long as he was accompanied. He was forbidden from leaving the camp but could stroll about inside.

Xi Ning, having offered Esen many strategies and led troops to break the purple thorn pass from behind, was considered one of their own. He could move about freely without supervision, holding a status even higher than Zhu Qizhen.

He ran swiftly, and the Oirat soldiers, curious but not obstructive, let him pass.

When Esen and the leaders reached the camp gate, the more than three hundred fleeing cavalrymen were tending their wounds there.

Esen parted the crowd and his face darkened further.

To avoid punishment, the cavalrymen had bandaged themselves extensively—both those seriously wounded and some without injuries—to appear as if they had endured a brutal battle.

From their appearance, all seemed gravely injured, as if barely escaped from death.

Esen scanned them and asked in Oirat, “Where is Bolor? Did he not return with you? Is he still behind?”

The fleeing soldiers lowered their heads, no one daring to answer.

Seeing the grim situation, Esen drew the dagger from the waist of a nearby leader and pointed it at a wounded soldier seated on the ground.

“I ask again—has General Bolor returned?”

The wounded soldier recoiled slightly, then muttered, “General… the general was struck by cannon fire and died.”

“What?!” Esen’s eyes widened in shock. He dropped the dagger and roughly grabbed the soldier to his feet, shouting, “Say that again!”

The soldier’s face contorted with grief. “Replying to the Grand Tutor, General Bolor died in battle.”

Smack—

Esen loosened his grip; the soldier fell to the ground, wailing in pain as his bandaged wounds were disturbed.

Bolor was Esen’s own younger brother and a remarkably brave warrior, greatly valued by Esen. To lose him so recklessly in one battle was a massive blow to both Esen and the Oirats.

Esen looked utterly distraught, causing the other leaders standing nearby to grow anxious.

The three thousand cavalry previously dispatched were mostly Bolor’s handpicked elite, mounted on the finest horses.

Only one-tenth—these three hundred—had returned, leaving the whereabouts of the rest the greatest concern.

A burly, bearded leader stepped forward and demanded of the fleeing soldiers, “Why have only you returned? Where are the others?”

“One moment ago, General Bolor led us to charge the enemy lines. We fell into the Ming army’s trap. The general was struck down by cannon fire. Under repeated bombardment from enemy cannons and arquebuses, our troops collapsed entirely. Only we few survived by chance. The rest are likely lost…” a fleeing officer answered with a face full of sorrow.

“Is this not nearly an entire army wiped out?” the Oirat leaders’ faces turned pale in disbelief.

They could never have imagined that these three thousand elite warriors, chosen from fifty thousand troops, had been annihilated in a single engagement. It was inconceivable.

“Grand Tutor, please spare me...” the officer said fearfully, attempting to crawl backward.

Thunk—

A muffled sound followed as a long knife pierced his chest. The leaders saw that Esen had picked up the blade and ended the officer’s life.

“The commander is dead, yet you, a general, still dare to think of survival?”

Esen drew his blade sharply; blood spurted from the officer’s chest, staining the earth red.

The officer gasped, trying to speak but could only choke out blood.

The surviving cavalrymen stared in horror, falling to their knees and begging desperately.

Esen stared coldly and ordered, “Among the three hundred, all officers shall be executed. The rest will each receive fifty lashes and be reduced to slavery henceforth! The Oirats have only warriors who die fighting; there are no cowards who cling to life.”

“Grand Tutor...” several leaders attempted to intervene but were met with Esen’s icy glare and fell silent.

Since the great victory at Tumu Fortress, Esen’s prestige among the Oirats had soared, surpassing even Khan Tuo Tuo Bu Hua’s influence. Were it not for his lineage as a descendant of the Golden Family, Esen would have supplanted the Khan long ago.

Though these leaders wielded some power, before Esen’s dominance, they dared not oppose him and accepted his harsh punishments without hesitation.

After following them to the camp gate, Xi Ning observed quietly.

In just two months, he had applied his wits to learn nearly seventy percent of the Oirat language. Through guesswork and context, he had pieced together the story of the devastating defeat.

“The Ming actually won? That’s pure dumb luck!” Xi Ning, now considering himself Oirat, was resentful of Ming’s victory.

Seeing Esen and the other leaders depart, he hurried to catch up, trailing silently to eavesdrop on their conversation.

This defeat had a profound impact on Oirat military plans.

Originally, Esen intended Bolor’s raid to harass the Ming forces today, then launch a full-scale assault tomorrow with the entire army, aiming for a victory no less grand than Tumu Fortress, hoping to crush the newly recruited Ming garrison and capture the capital.

If successful, he could wield the emperor as a pawn and become the regent of Ming.

Even Khan Tuo Tuo Bu Hua would be forced to submit, a position far superior to any petty chieftainship on the steppes.

But today’s battle wiped out nearly the entire three thousand elite cavalry.

With eyes upon them, hiding the defeat was impossible. The blow to morale was severe, which explained Esen’s strict enforcement of military law—a warning to his troops.

Esen both loved and despised Ming and was well-versed in Central Plains culture.

The “Art of War” by Sun Bin states: "Without favorable timing, terrain advantage, and harmony among men, victory brings calamity."

Now fighting on foreign soil without terrain advantage, facing a turning cold season without favorable timing, and invading Ming territory lacking unity, the Oirats possessed none of the three essentials.

To suffer such a defeat under these conditions made Esen hesitate, reconsidering whether his plan to seize power in Ming was truly feasible.

After consulting with several leaders, they agreed the defeat showed the Ming army was not weak.

The beautiful ambush must have been orchestrated by a brilliant strategist.

Rushing into battle tomorrow risked another defeat.

Yet, with fifty thousand troops inside Ming borders, daily consumption of food and fodder was enormous.

Since their arrival, the Ming’s scorched earth policy left them with scant supplies.

If the conflict dragged on, the Oirats risked starving before defeating the Ming.

Faced with defeat or starvation, Esen and his leaders were at a crossroads.

As they sighed over their predicament, a figure suddenly dashed across their path, blocking their way.

They instinctively grasped their sword hilts but relaxed upon recognizing Xi Ning, who appeared slight, humble, and eager to please.

Esen frowned. “What do you want?”

Xi Ning smiled obsequiously. “Grand Tutor, I heard you and the leaders are pondering how to defeat the Ming. Have you thought of any good plans?”

Though Esen secretly despised the scheming Xi Ning, who had repeatedly aided him against the Ming court, he outwardly praised him, treating him as a trusted confidant.

Now Xi Ning blocking their path brought Esen a glimmer of hope. This man’s audacity implied he had a new strategy against Ming; otherwise, he wouldn’t dare obstruct them.

“Alas, we have yet to find a solution and are troubled by this matter,” Esen said, feigning dejection.

Unaware of Esen’s true thoughts, Xi Ning bowed forward, flattering, “I have a method that may relieve the Grand Tutor’s worries.”