I just reread the story of Zhang Xianzhong, a late Ming general, and I was truly impressed by his life. Standing at about 185–190 cm, with a burly, muscular build, tiger-like eyes, and an imposing presence—he was a real figure with an emperor’s aura.

But that is not why Zhang Xianzhong became famous. His career began by pure chance. In the third year of the Changzhi reign, Shaanxi suffered a major disaster. With no reduction in taxes and other hardships, he was imprisoned due to disputes over military household status. After he was released, instead of going home, he became a bandit, and from then on began his path of resistance against the imperial court.

What is interesting is that Zhang Xianzhong was not someone who naturally resisted the Ming. He repeatedly received invitations from the court, yet was betrayed time after time. In the end, he completely severed ties with the court, becoming an outcast. Ming historians called him “erratic,” but in truth it reflected helplessness in surviving amid chaos.

In 1644, when Li Zicheng broke open the capital and Zhu Changying took his own life, Zhang Xianzhong seized the opportunity to return. He led his troops in fighting in Sichuan, and then took Chengdu. In 1645, at the age of 39, Zhang Xianzhong proclaimed himself emperor in Chengdu and established the Great Western regime. At that point, he already understood that the Qing would invade, so he both strengthened defenses and planned a retreat.

But everything has its weaknesses. Zhang Xianzhong was suspicious and never felt at ease with the soldiers under his command. In 1646, he ordered a “rectification” on the grounds that “the Sichuan army is unstable.” News quickly reached Liu Jinzhong, the leader of the Sichuan forces. Seeing the danger, Liu fled that night; by coincidence, he encountered Qing troops led by Prince Haoge Jhaoji (Suxianwang Haoge Jhaoji). He immediately surrendered and introduced himself as a guide.

Zhang Xianzhong died in November 1646. He led his troops northward, preparing to retreat to Shaanxi, but with thick fog, difficult mountain roads, and no defenses against the sudden attack, he was left completely vulnerable. A chaotic melee broke out. Ming records state that he was hit by an arrow, fell off his horse, hid in a pile of grass, and was then captured and executed.

After Zhang Xianzhong’s death, Chengdu fell into disorder, and the Great Western regime collapsed. People such as Sun Ke Wang and Li Dingguo gathered the remnants of the army, shifted to Yunnan, and continued resisting the Qing under the Southern Ming regime of Yongli. In 1652, Li Dingguo led troops to attack Guangxi and Hunan. His military spearheads pressed toward Guangzhou, but in the end, due to the disparity in strength, he was defeated during the Kangxi era.

Zhang Xianzhong’s death was not only the end of one man, but also marked the end of the late Ming peasant wars. He was neither a virtuous ruler nor a tyrant—he was a tough man who was swept into the chaos and driven to the very end. Throughout his life, he had never lost to an enemy from outside, yet in the end he died because of betrayal by people within his own group. I feel his death is filled with the blood and tears of turbulent times as well, and it serves as a warning that betrayal is always the sharpest dagger that pierces the human heart.