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Chapter 992 Who is the emperor's own father?
Gong Grubb would rather die than retreat, he is worthy of his old grandfather Wu Keshan, his old aunt Xiaozhuang, and his old cousin Fulin.

As the saying goes, if you retreat, you will die, if you don't retreat, you will die, it is better not to retreat.

Once the Restoration regime gains absolute control outside the customs, it will definitely be a disaster for the Horqin Tripartite of the old uncle's family in Shunzhi.

The clansmen may be fine, but the princes Baylor must be purged.

The winner is the king and the loser is the bandit. The Mongols also understand the principle that the emperor and the courtiers belong to each other.

What's more, when Shunzhi cleaned the two white flags of the Dorgon brothers, the princes and ministers of Horqin had made great efforts in it. It can be said that their hands were covered with the blood of the two white flags.

Now that the descendants of the Dorgon brothers have ascended the Dabao and sat in the Qing Dynasty, how can they be as good as their Horqin?
Therefore, there is no room for negotiation between Horqin and the Restoration Dynasty.

The only way to have a chance is to let go.

It's a pity that the prince's willingness to die did not awaken the last blood and conscience of those Horqin warriors who were eager to escape, but instead attracted more puppet soldiers in red pants.

Jiang Biao, the chief of staff of Xinyi Township with three big pheasant feathers stuck in his hat, ordered in time: "The man holding the flag must be captured alive, he is a good man."

"There is an order from above to capture the Tartars alive!"

Hundreds of officers and soldiers of the Restoration Army launched an assault on the stone bridge, and the remaining hundreds of Mongolian soldiers gritted their teeth and resisted desperately.

The hand-cranked Jatling wheel gun, which could only be lifted by three people, was lifted up, nine in total, and then fired at the Mongolian soldiers.

Only five guns were fired, and the other four were either stuck due to some part failure, or there was a problem that they could not be fired because of too much residual gunpowder slag.

The Tianjin Military Industry Bureau has personnel accompanying the army, and all the problems Jatling exposed during actual combat must be fed back to the Military Industry Bureau so that experts can solve them in a timely manner.

Five guns were enough, and more than 200 rounds of guns were released in the blink of an eye, hitting the dozen or so armored Mongolian soldiers in front of them as if they had been swept by submachine guns, dancing with their hands and feet like break dancing.

After a volley of guns, the Restoration Army rushed to Shiqiao, and started a hand-to-hand fight with more than 20 remaining Mongolian soldiers.

Two brave recruits jumped onto the stone bridge, preparing to capture the Tartar official holding the military flag alive.

But the Tartar official laughed sharply at them, and then took out a dagger and slit his throat severely.

The severing of the trachea made Horqin's right-wing Prince not only bleeding from his neck, but also unable to utter a single word.

Jiang Biao, who saw this scene from a distance, couldn't help sighing: "What a man!"

Kung Labutan fell slowly with the apricot-yellow banner, staring angrily at the puppet army in the pass who was coming to check him, but his convulsive right hand was holding the banner handed down by his ancestors tightly.

This flag was given to his ancestor Wu Keshan by Emperor Taizong himself, and it not only witnessed the glory of the Qing Dynasty, but also the glory of their Horqin tribe.

On the land in Guannei, there were once left their brave footprints of the Horqin people, as well as legends about their might.

"Jie your mother, what the hell, is this dead?"

Two seventeen or eighteen-year-old recruits looked at each other, one stepped forward and grabbed Prince Horqin's pigtail, and the other cut his neck severely with the dagger that the other party used to commit suicide.

Accompanied by the creepy sound of sharp blades cutting through flesh and blood, the head of His Royal Highness the fifth generation prince of Horqin's right wing was lifted up, and then tied with braids on the flagpole of the apricot flag, above the stone bridge. Keep waving.

"Victory, victorious, victorious!"

On both sides of the stone bridge, the restorative soldiers in bright military uniforms and blood-stained cheers erupted.

An Mu, the commander of the new army in the distance, put down his binoculars, turned his head and told the staff: "Go to the imperial camp to report the victory, well, let's say that the younger generation has defeated the thief."

"Whoo!"

Several ride away.

The death of the right-wing prince of Horqin left the remnants of the Manchu and Mongolian army no longer able to recover, and no longer had the courage. Looking around, there were Manchurian and Mongolian soldiers fleeing everywhere.

The first-class Jisunidat, which participated in the battle in the Horqin Left Wing Middle Banner, was disrupted by a group of defeated Manchurian soldiers, and was then wrapped up by these Manchurian soldiers on the mount for several tens of feet.

Before Sunidat could stabilize the team, the chariot group of the Restoration Army had already rushed towards him. A frightened Manchurian leader in desperation didn't care who Sunidat was, and slammed him out of the way. Immediately pulled it off, and then turned over on the opponent's horse and ran away in an instant with a flick of the whip.

Leave the first-class Taiji stomping there and scolding the Tartars for their lack of loyalty.

A galloping chariot passed the first-class Taiji sideways, and cut off the legs and ankles of the first-class Taiji. With the sound of wailing, Master Taiji rolled on the ground.

In the cold wind, the two legs without feet kept gushing blood, and then condensed little by little.
Some rational Manchu and Mongolian generals wanted to crush the situation, at least hold their ground, and prevent the small cavalry of the Guannei soldiers from driving them like sheep and making them live targets for the infantry.

But it was useless, no matter how these generals suppressed them, they couldn't stop this avalanche-like scene.

Andarshan, commander of the Eight Banners of Manchuria and deputy governor of Xingjing, was still running for his life on his legs. He didn't know that the prince of Horqin had died in battle, so he only knew to run to the east.

Not long after, there was the sound of rushing horseshoes behind him, and when he looked back, he saw hundreds of frightened Mongolian soldiers rushing towards him like a tidal wave.

"I'm Xingjing's deputy governor!"

Andalshan opened his mouth to call for help, but the group of Mongolian soldiers ignoring him directly rode their horses towards him.

In a blink of an eye, they were submerged under the horseshoes of the defeated soldiers.

When the sound of the hoofbeats disappeared, Mr. An, one of the four major deputy capitals outside the pass, no longer had a whole bone in his body.

Like painted skin.

On both sides of the Daling River at dusk, the cold wind kept blowing. The cold wind brought white snow and an unpleasant smell.

The taste is very deep.

Hundreds of corpses are burning, and the smell of charred corpses makes people unable to open their mouths.

Many reform officers and soldiers were not stimulated by the smell of blood in the previous fierce battle, but at this time they even vomited gall.

On the stone bridge where Prince Horqin died in battle, a long banner of "serving the country with loyalty" remained motionless under the cold wind.

frozen.

Under the long banner, there are the six emperors in iron armor, and the rich gang leader who insists on coming to see the battle situation.

The commander of the new army, An Mu, is reporting the results of the battle: "Your Majesty, our troops fought fiercely with the enemy for one day, resulting in more than 7000 casualties. The enemy killed more than [-] people under Prince Gong Labutan of Horqin and Deputy Commander of Xingjing Andarshan."

The report was suddenly interrupted by His Majesty the Emperor: "Who are those people?"

Jia Liu pointed to the dark crowd sitting cross-legged by the Daling River.

An Mu hurriedly said: "Go back to the emperor, you are a prisoner."

Jia Liu asked how many people were there?
An Mu said that he hadn't counted them, but there should be 4000 people.

"Oh,"

Jia Liu nodded, and suddenly said to the old Fu beside him: "Back then, Qin Fujian said that his soldiers and horses throwing whips could cut off the flow of the Yangtze River. I didn't believe it. Do you believe it?"

The old rich looked thoughtfully at the frozen Daling River under the ice, but it was still rushing under the ice, and said to An Mu who didn't know the situation: "An Tongzhi, what are you still doing? Your Majesty has an order to cut off the Daling River Linghe water."

"Break the Daling River?"

An Mu was stunned, what should he do?

Then I saw the rich gang leader's gaze fell on the dark crowd of captives in the distance.

Immediately, he stood at attention with a "ba": "Hey!"

After An Mu left, Jia Liu looked at the old man quietly: "Brother still knows me as before, but according to the history I have read, it will be very dangerous."

"I've become a beggar, what danger is there to you?"

Old Fu snorted disdainfully, "If I pretend I don't understand what you mean, you will definitely make it impossible for me to celebrate the New Year safely."

"What is Mafa talking about? There is no friendship or family relationship between us."

Jia Liu grinned, looked in the direction of Shengjing, with a solemn face, then burst into tears, and murmured: "My dear father, the unfilial son Sun Shikai has come to see you."

Old Fu's cheeks twitched involuntarily, and then asked a question he was more concerned about: "Who is your real father?"

Jia Liu asked back, "Is this important?"

"Ok?"

While Old Fu was thinking, Jia Liu had already rode his horse across the stone bridge.

After a long time, the old Fu on the bridge shook his head and muttered: "As long as it's not me, whoever is his father will be unlucky."

Author's Note: Mafa, Manchurian grandfather.

(End of this chapter)