Experimental Car No. 4 rampaged across the steppe, utterly unrestrained.
Invincible.
At its core, it was nothing more than a gigantic iron box.
Its chassis wasn't particularly thick—its designers had deliberately prioritized lightness—but it was still more than sufficient to deflect arrows and saber strikes. If these were the Manchus, armed with firearms, they might have had some chance of piercing its shell. But the Mongols possessed no guns at all.
Against this iron monster, relying solely on cold steel, they posed no threat whatsoever.
One Mongol cavalryman, fierce and unyielding, refused to retreat. Gripping a long spear, he spurred his mount forward. His horse was exceptional—fast and powerful—and in moments he caught up from behind, galloping shoulder to shoulder with Experimental Car No. 4.
He lifted his spear and thrust with all his strength toward the side window.
But the driver wasn't an idiot.
The moment he sensed the horse drawing alongside him, he yanked the steering wheel hard. The vehicle lurched sharply to the side.
The spear missed the narrow window and slammed instead into the iron shell beside it.
Clang!
The metallic crash rang out sharply. The thrust had been ferocious, but force was always met with equal resistance. The harder the cavalryman struck, the stronger the rebound.
He was thrown backward violently, nearly tumbling off his horse.
But he was Mongol-born, raised in the saddle. Even in such a dire moment, he somehow held on. His body rocked backward, then snapped forward again, using his waist to pull himself back into position, landing firmly in the saddle once more.
The cavalryman felt a surge of pride.
"My horsemanship," he thought smugly, "haha—truly unmatched…"
Bang!
Experimental Car No. 4 swerved straight into him.
Man and horse were sent flying.
"Stay away from that strange vehicle!"
"Dodge it!"
Bo'erzhijin Elinchen's cavalry shouted frantically.
The heavy cavalry scattered in panic.
Their wedge formation had already been torn apart by Experimental Car No. 4.
At the same time, Zao Ying's unit—having briefly withdrawn to reload—was ready once more. The firearm cavalry surged forward again. A crisp, rhythmic volley rang out, and another large swath of heavy cavalry collapsed.
The Wushen tribe leader, the Ordos tribal leader, and the others watching this unfold could not possibly let such an opportunity slip away.
Mongols were like wolves by nature—masters of flanking maneuvers and coordinated assaults, experts at exploiting weakness.
"Charge!"
"Attack! The Han people have opened the way for us!"
"Assault!"
Large bodies of cavalry thundered forward, crashing into the disordered enemy.
Bo'erzhijin Elinchen sucked in a breath, letting out a startled cry, momentarily frozen by indecision.
And in that brief hesitation, he saw it.
The strange iron vehicle had already punched straight through his cavalry formation and was now charging directly toward his command banner.
It wasn't coordinating with any unit. It wasn't waiting for support.
It was simply driving straight through the battlefield to kill the commander.
Bo'erzhijin Elinchen shouted in disbelief, "This thing is outrageously arrogant! Who attacks the commanding general by driving straight through the front lines? That's not even a tactic!"
A subordinate beside him screamed in panic, "My lord, stop talking—run!"
Bo'erzhijin Elinchen muttered, "For the commander to flee at the very start of battle… that really doesn't seem appropriate, does it?"
Before his words had fully faded, the massive iron vehicle roared again—and actually accelerated.
Like a terrifying black beast, baring fangs and claws, it charged straight at him. A firearm protruded from its front.
Bang!
One of Bo'erzhijin Elinchen's subordinates screamed and collapsed to the ground.
Bo'erzhijin Elinchen glanced sideways at the fallen man, then without another word, yanked hard on his reins and fled.
A commander abandoning the battlefield was catastrophic for morale.
Those smaller tribes allied with him had already been wavering. If not for the oppressive authority of Bo'erzhijin Elinchen's lineage—his claim to the blood of Genghis Khan—they would have scattered long ago like startled birds.
Now that they saw him fleeing, why would they remain?
"Hoo!"
With a collective cry, the allied forces broke and fled in chaos.
The Wushen tribe leader immediately ordered his men to shout together, "Why are you running? Surrender to me! Join my Wushen tribe—I guarantee you food this winter!"
The shout actually worked.
The fleeing smaller tribes slowed, then stopped at a distance. They turned back to watch, waiting for the battle to fully conclude before deciding where to pledge their loyalty.
As they watched, they saw the strange iron vehicle still chasing Bo'erzhijin Elinchen.
But no matter how terrifying it was, it wasn't particularly fast.
Bo'erzhijin Elinchen rode the finest horse in the Ordos. The iron vehicle couldn't close the distance. Slowly, inevitably, the gap widened.
Before long, Bo'erzhijin Elinchen and his retinue vanished into the northern steppe.
Left with no choice, the iron vehicle turned back, its movements almost seeming… disgruntled.
It drove back to the cannon positioned behind the lines, hooked the tow hitch into place, and once again resumed its role as a towing vehicle.
Now it looked oddly docile.
But its performance on the battlefield had already carved deep fear into the hearts of every Mongol present.
The Wushen tribe leader and the others now looked at the iron car with something close to reverence—a fear born from the soul.
A voice screamed within their hearts:
Allying with the Han people was the correct choice. If we had sided with the Later Jin and fought the Han… it would have been us being chased by that iron monster just now.
Too terrifying.
Zao Ying approached the Wushen tribe leader. "We've already helped you win the most critical battle. The smaller tribes allied with your opponent have also switched sides. The rest shouldn't require our involvement anymore, should it?"
The Wushen tribe leader answered without hesitation, "If I still needed your help after this, I wouldn't deserve to be the new leader of the Ordos. My Han friends, please rest. Leave the rest to me."
—
By the end of the seventh year of Chongzhen's reign—
A massive hot air balloon floated above Gao Family Village.
A large basket hung beneath it, and inside stood a young graduate student, rising slowly into the sky.
The wind was strong, causing the balloon to sway. A long rope dangled down to the ground, where dozens of students clung to it with white knuckles, terrified that the balloon might be swept away.
A rather pretty young woman shouted anxiously, "Hold tight, everyone! Don't let my husband float away!"
The students burst into laughter.
"You're only engaged," they teased. "Not even married yet, and you're already calling him your husband?"
The woman's face flushed crimson. She wished she could disappear on the spot. But when she looked up at the balloon, worry overwhelmed her embarrassment. She faced the students bravely and repeated, "Please, hold on tight—don't let go!"
At that moment, laughter rang down from the balloon.
"Classmates!" the graduate student called cheerfully. "You should all come up and see! The feeling of looking down on the earth—it's truly amazing!"