The Tumu Crisis Unfolds as Planned
This installment of the Tumu Crisis in our alternate history takes a bird's-eye view, proceeding exactly according to King Munjong's design. It has no direct tie to the protagonist's daily life, but it's relevant to future events, so I decided to include it. Of course, I really wanted to write it too haha.
No one uttered a word. Beyond the tent flaps, soldiers bellowed war cries as they fought desperately for their lives, but inside, a heavy silence hung like a shroud.
"Waaaaah...!"
A cheer erupted from outside. Those who had been staring at the ground inside the tent exchanged hopeful glances.
"Wh-what's happening? Have we won? Have those northern barbarians finally retreated?"
The only one seated—a man whose glistening skin matched the hopeful sparkle in his eyes—finally spoke. He addressed the eunuch standing behind him.
"Chief Eunuch. What's going on?"
"Your Majesty...!"
At the title of Chief Eunuch, the man turned to face the emperor. Wang Zhen, beaming with a broad smile, bowed his head.
"This must surely be tidings of victory for our Great Ming army."
"Ha! Is that true?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Congratulations!"
He reported the battlefield situation without once peeking outside the tent. Any ordinary man might have doubted him, but Emperor Zhengtong trusted the eunuch he regarded as his mentor without question.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
That trust held until a soldier burst into the tent.
"You must withdraw at once! The northern barbarians have breached the walls and are advancing! Flee now to preserve your sacred person!"
"...!"
Emperor Zhengtong's eyes widened in disbelief. Breathing in ragged wheezes due to his extreme obesity, he glared at Wang Zhen.
"Seize that bastard and behead him at once!"
His lie exposed, Wang Zhen prioritized his own safety over the emperor's escape.
"Your Majesty! That wretch is surely a northern spy! We must execute him immediately to avert disaster!"
"D-do it...!"
Yielding to what was more plea than request, as he always did, the emperor raised his hand in command. But no one stepped forward.
"What are you waiting for? Behead this scum right now!"
Wang Zhen glared at the ministers who only eyed one another warily. He reached for the sword at his waist—but the ornamental blade wouldn't budge.
"Urgh...! Someone, this—"
"Fine! I'll kill you myself!"
"G-General?"
As he struggled desperately to draw the sword, General Fan Zhong approached. But the general's gaze wasn't on the messenger—it was fixed on Wang Zhen.
"Y-you bastard! What do you think you're doing?!"
Seeing the general advance with iron mace in hand sent chills down Wang Zhen's spine. As always, he barked orders at the emperor's guards.
"Cut down this madman at once!"
Once again, no one obeyed.
"Y-Your Majesty!"
"...!"
Even the emperor he thought he could rely on had turned away.
"N-no, G-General...! Calm down first...!"
Finally grasping the situation, Wang Zhen forced a smile onto his pale, clean-shaven face—pristine compared to the bloodied messenger who had fought through the fray.
Crack!
General Fan Zhong brought the mace down on that smug face. Wang Zhen's features caved in instantly as he toppled backward onto his rear.
"Aaaagh...!"
Even in that state, desperate to live, he crawled toward the emperor. Fan Zhong followed, swinging relentlessly.
The legs that had trampled the emperor's shadow. The hand that had condemned men with a mere point. The bloated body stuffed with greasy feasts.
Crack! Thud! Crunch! Smack!
With every swing of the mace, bones shattered, splintered fragments tore through flesh, and blood sprayed.
"That pig of a bastard!"
One of the onlookers who had watched in hushed tension spat a curse—not at the swinging general, but at Wang Zhen, who twitched with every blow.
"It's all because of that fucker!"
"If it weren't for that eunuch scum, we wouldn't even be here!"
"Well done, General Fan Zhong! Hit him harder! More!"
Some cursed the blood-soaked Wang Zhen; others cheered the unflagging Fan Zhong. And the emperor sweated coldly, his face ashen.
"Hah! Hah! Hah! Your Majesty!"
Fan Zhong, panting with the eunuch's mangled corpse at his feet, fixed the emperor with a glare. He quickly averted his eyes, bowed, and spoke.
"My men and I will buy as much time as we can. Your Majesty, please withdraw with the ministers and preserve your sacred person...!"
"Uh, uh, uh...!"
The emperor could only groan, unable to respond. Normally, Wang Zhen would have decided and commanded for him, but now the eunuch lay shattered on the ground, bleeding and convulsing.
"Your Majesty! There's no time!"
"R-right! I understand!"
Despite the general's insolence, the emperor nodded vigorously, his double chin jiggling. Seeing this, the ministers sighed in relief, glimpsing a path to survival.
But their futures were not bright. The emperor would be taken hostage and dragged to Beijing; Fan Zhong and the loyal retainers would be run through with spears and swords, vomiting blood as they died.
That was their fate—until the distant blare of horns shattered it.
Bwooooo...! Bwooooo...!
Bwooooo...! Bwooooo...!
Victory was within grasp, the walls fallen. But the horns from the rear threw Esen Taishi into confusion.
"What's this? Enemy reinforcements?"
"Great Khan! Joseon troops! Joseon troops are here!"
"What? Joseon?"
He knew Joseon had sent aid to Ming at his request. But their arrival right after the breach? The timing was far too perfect.
"Tell them we've captured the emperor—send them packing."
"We did, Great Khan, but they refuse to halt their advance!"
"Joseon forces—how many?"
"From what we can see: about 600 cavalry, 1,200 infantry!"
"...And yet they press on?"
Esen Taishi was flustered for a different reason. That force was less than a tenth of his Oirat army, whose morale soared with victory in sight. Any observer would call it a hopeless mismatch for Joseon—but Esen remained wary.
It was those Joseon gunpowder weapons. Their cannons could fell men and terrify horses with a simple pull and thunderous roar. Even Ming's inept soldiers had suffered heavy casualties.
But they had weaknesses: range and reload time. Beyond 100 paces, the cannons were useless, and firing left a long delay before the next shot.
"Hear my command."
After a moment's thought, Esen focused on their position at the battle's endgame.
"Joseon seeks glory. Send a thousand Kesik. It'll be fine sport for those siege idlers craving action."
"As you command."
"Maintain 100 paces or more. Joseon cannons take time to reload—charge only after they fire."
"Of course, Great Khan."
An ignorable threat could be buried under a greater one.
The Kesik heavy cavalry, who had idled at the rear watching the siege, now had their chance for kills.
"And recover those Joseon cannons if possible. They're worth studying."
Esen Taishi wasn't wrong. But he wasn't entirely right either.
Unlike the front, where flames roared, blood sprayed, and screams pierced the sky, the rear heavy cavalry lounged in the fields, resting. They'd claimed plenty of kills en route. Now, with the emperor in tow, Beijing's gates would open wide.
Bwooooo...! Bwooooo...!
But horns from even farther back—their rear—stirred an ill omen. And his instincts never failed.
"Up! To arms!"
"Y-yes? Ming troops?"
"No! Joseon! The Joseon bastards are hitting our rear! Gear up—now!"
Battle prep during a break drew grumbles from the Kesik soldiers, but their elite bodies moved on autopilot, donning gear in seconds. Armored in iron plate and helms, they mounted and listened to their commander.
"The Great Khan's orders! Engage the Joseon dogs at 100 paces or more!"
Grumbles again—fighting at such distance meant blindly loosing arrows at unseen foes.
"But only until they fire! Once the Joseon cannons shoot, slaughter them at will!"
"Hororororo!"
"Kiyoooot!"
The heavy cavalry bellowed eerie cheers at the chance for final kills, then spurred forward at their commander's signal.
Weaving past rear units, they spotted the Joseon force. The commander, who had boldly led his cavalry, scowled.
"Mu! Jeok! Jo! Seon! Mu! Jeok! Jo! Seon!"
He couldn't parse the Joseon chants, but their momentum and formation screamed elite.
The infantry advanced in flawless square, steps thundering in unison with every shout, shaking heaven and earth.
"Full halt!"
Hundreds stopped as one at a single command. The commander sensed a tough fight and selected three centurions.
"To you, I grant the vanguard's honor!"
"We obey!"
Without a hint of complaint, three hundred heavy cavalry charged toward the Joseon lines.