A month had passed since the Boxers began their holy rebellion, and their march had brought them to Tianjin.
From their starting point in Weifang to the gates of this port city, the journey had been grueling. The majority of the fighters had traversed the distance on foot, moving from town to town, village to village, claiming each as a foothold in their sacred war. But the road was not without its losses. Some deserted along the way, though not in cowardice—they dispersed to spread the Boxer movement like a malignant plague across the land. Follow current novᴇls on novel~fire~net
The Boxers were disciplined, their hierarchy strict, and any breach of conduct—especially looting—was met with severe punishment. Even their own were not spared. Such uncompromising discipline ensured that their wrath was focused solely on their chosen enemies: the churches and their followers.
Wherever the Boxers passed, heads of Christians were displayed on pikes, and jubilant villagers greeted them with cheers. By the end of their month-long march, they had reached the outskirts of their next target.
Just one more week of marching, and they would stand before the gates of Beijing. For the Boxers, this was destiny manifest. They believed that entering the imperial city would herald the creation of the "New Heaven on Earth," as promised by their leader.
"Master, we are close to Beijing. At our current pace, it is less than a week away," said a man clad in a Qing-style queue and robes reminiscent of the FangMing Dynasty.
This moment revealed the conflicting ideologies at the heart of the Boxer movement. They oscillated between two visions: overthrowing the Qing in favor of restoring the Ming (Fanqing Fuming) and defending the Qing while opposing foreign influence (Weiqing Fanyang). Under the banner of a "New Heaven," these contradictory goals somehow coexisted.
Despite the fervor of his followers, the leader's confidence wavered as they neared Tianjin. The sight of the massive port city, its walls tall and unyielding, made his faith falter. Tianjin was no mere village or backwater town; it was a fortress.
While the townsfolk greeted the Boxers warmly, the city's officials remained indifferent. The leader shuddered to think what might have happened if the officials had opposed them outright.
"Surely," he muttered to himself, "if the gods are truly with us, my will shall be done."
He clung to his faith like a lifeline. The fiery speeches he delivered to inspire his followers had become a balm for his own doubts. With each declaration of divine purpose, he found himself believing his words a little more.
"Your Majesty the Beautiful Monkey King! Or... or any god who will listen! Help us, please!" he prayed silently, his thoughts veering between desperation and determination.
There was no turning back. Their path to Beijing was set, their march unstoppable.
The Qing Court's Turmoil
Within the Forbidden City, the Qing court simmered with tension.
"Your Highness, we must crush them now! Only by doing so can we negotiate with the foreign powers. If we allow the foreign armies to handle this rebellion, the price we pay will be unimaginable!" a grizzled general pleaded, his voice strained with desperation.
Li Hongzhang, the aging diplomat and statesman, stood firm. "Your Highness, the Boxers are crying out for help. They do not harm our people. They have even surrendered to the local garrisons."
"Surrendered?!" the general bellowed. "Then why do they still carry arms? Their so-called surrender is nothing but treachery!"
The Boxers had raided government armories, arming themselves under the guise of receiving "benevolent support." Their actions, though clearly rebellion, were cloaked in justifications of loyalty to the people and the empire.
Li Hongzhang knew the truth. This was the Qing's last chance to salvage its future. If foreign armies intervened, the cost would be more than indemnities—it would be land, sovereignty, and the empire's very survival.
"This is our final opportunity," he implored. "We must not let them reach Beijing. The moment they enter the city, they will unleash chaos and slaughter."
The Dowager Empress's Defiance
But the Dowager Empress Cixi was unmoved.
"Enough, Li Hongzhang!" she snapped. "You presume too much. The Boxers are no threat to us. It is you who overstep your bounds!"
Li Hongzhang clenched his fists, his composure cracking under the weight of her arrogance. She has lost her mind, he thought bitterly. She would sell the Qing's future for her own pride.
Though he longed to denounce her, Li Hongzhang was powerless. Once a towering figure—China's greatest diplomat, a revolutionary, and the commander of the Beiyang Army—he was now a relic of a bygone era, a scapegoat for the humiliations of the First Sino-Japanese War.
The Dowager Empress resented him deeply, blaming him for the defeat that had crippled the Qing. He, in turn, blamed her extravagance and interference for the disaster. Their relationship had been irreparably damaged when the Beiyang Fleet, her supposed birthday gift, sank in flames during the Battle of the Yellow Sea.
Now, Cixi viewed Li Hongzhang's every word as a challenge to her authority. And though he had once been the empire's greatest hope, he was now little more than a political outcast, his influence a shadow of what it had been.
Still, he persisted. Each day for the past month, he had argued for the suppression of the Boxers. And each day, Cixi had stalled, issuing hollow orders to provincial governors while ensuring nothing meaningful was done.
As the Boxers drew closer to Beijing, their numbers swelled. The rebellion, once a distant threat, had become an imminent crisis. Yet, for the Qing court, it was a crisis of their own making.
Li Hongzhang knew that when the foreign armies came—and they would come—the empire would crumble.
"This is it," he whispered to himself. "Our last chance."
But even as he plotted his next move, he knew the truth: the wheels of destiny had already turned. The rebellion had grown too large, the court too fractured, and the foreign powers too hungry.
Beijing's fall was not a matter of if, but when.