Chapter 573: Blood Sacrifice Military Exercise

Zhu Youxiao would never use cannons for this—that would be a pure waste.

Since the military exercise was staged on such a grand scale, it wouldn't be fitting without some bloodshed, which is why this drill was arranged—plainly put, it was to execute people by gunfire.

Those thousand-plus Jurchen captives stared ahead at the rolling gunsmoke and the impeccably equipped Ming army, confusion—even terror—in their eyes as they shrank back, refusing to advance.

If something like this were done in later generations, it would be a terribly cruel affair, liable to frighten the common folk watching.

But the situation in the Great Ming was different—the people here had long weathered the battlefield and even done much in peacetime to support war. They might not have killed enemies with their own hands, but they had hauled supplies for the army and carried away corpses; all of these things they had done.

They had seen crueler battlefields than this. Killing was nothing remarkable in these people's eyes, and especially when the ones being killed were their enemies, it only made them more excited.

In an instant, cheers erupted from somewhere, no one quite knowing how they started.

And what no one had expected was that someone began distributing blades, spears, and armor to that thousand-plus crowd. From the look of it, they were all Jurchen weapons and armor.

This startled the Mongols somewhat. After all, the Jurchen were better equipped than they were—the Jurchen could forge their own armor, swords, and spears, whereas the Mongols were the true steppe people, not the same as the Jurchen at all.

No one knew what the Great Ming intended. These were over a thousand Jurchen—once given blades, spears, and armor, who knew what they might do?

Could there be danger here?

Many sat as if on a bed of needles.

The Jurchen at first refused the weapons and armor, but unable to resist for long, they accepted them—and the expressions on their faces gradually shifted from numbness to ferocity.

Clearly, they had realized the situation before them: the Great Ming meant to use their blood for this military exercise, to display Ming's martial might and awe everyone else into submission.

So how could they possibly let the Great Ming be satisfied?

When faced with death, people easily turn mad. Knowing they couldn't survive, they would think of dragging someone down with them. Even if they couldn't drag anyone down, they would still desperately fight for their lives.

These Jurchen, who would not live unless they went mad, quickly donned their armor, gripped their blades and spears, and even began scanning for a direction—which way to break out.

But soon, these frenzied Jurchen discovered that escape seemed impossible. Still, they noticed a high platform in one direction.

A man stood atop that platform. Though they didn't know who he was, he was very likely a powerful noble of the Great Ming. If they charged and fought in that direction, perhaps there really would be a path to survival.

"Kill!"

Someone shouted—no one knew who—and the Jurchen quickly gathered, sprinting at full speed toward the platform.

They were fast, running for their very lives.

Just then, from within the Ming army's formation, a series of clattering sounds suddenly arose.

Those in the know—though others didn't—recognized it as the pulling of rifle bolts.

A "rat-a-tat-tat" sound rang out.

In an instant, tongues of flame spat from the muzzles, and bullets rained down upon the Jurchen like a storm.

Thirty hand-cranked rotary machine guns lay in ambush here. Under these circumstances, the guns unleashed their full power, bullets smashing into the enemy like wind splitting the moon.

Everyone saw the Jurchen charging at the front fall in an instant like wheat scythed down, blood splattering from their bodies.

The armor they had thought would provide defense was utterly useless against these firearms—bullets punched straight through it, piercing them cold through the heart and sending them toppling face-first to the ground.

Beside them, Ming soldiers also began working their bolts, followed by "bang, bang, bang" sounds.

Though each bullet could only kill one enemy at a time, there were many shooters and their aim was precise—that thousand-plus was finished after just three volleys.

The air was thick with the heavy stench of blood, sending a chill down everyone's spine.

Wukeshan sat there, feeling thoroughly unwell.

He had been on battlefields before and had seen killing—not just a thousand-plus people, but battlefields where far more had died, even his own kinsmen among the fallen.

But Wukeshan had never seen slaughter this simple. Yes—unlike the wars before, that had been war; this was slaughter.

Thinking of his own men facing such guns and such cannons, Wukeshan felt a chill run down his spine.

He finally understood why the Emperor of the Great Ming insisted on doing this. This was no longer just about frightening people—this was about scaring them to death!

All the Mongols felt the same—many faces were pale, trembling like sieves shaking chaff.

Zhu Youxiao lowered the telescope in his hand.

He hadn't watched the killing just now. To be honest, though he knew it was necessary, he still couldn't bear it—after all, he was different from the people of this era.

The people of this era, mind you, didn't care at all—it was merely killing a thousand-plus prisoners of war. Far more people died on battlefields, far more prisoners were executed, and no one paid it any mind.

Under such circumstances, they behaved as if long accustomed to such scenes—some were even chatting among themselves, looking quite interested.

Zhu Youxiao couldn't adapt. He didn't watch, instead looking directly toward the Mongols and the Joseon delegation.

Their reactions, at least, left Zhu Youxiao quite satisfied.

Though no one had literally been scared to death, judging by their faces, they had certainly been frightened out of their wits this time.

That made things easy—many matters could now be negotiated. If he went to talk with them now, they would surely agree; there was nothing more to say about it.

Zhu Youxiao glanced at Sun Chengzong beside him and said, "Things here are just about done. Leave the rest to you—I'll head back first. Tell them that tonight I'm hosting a banquet at my field headquarters, and let them eat and drink their fill."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Sun Chengzong acknowledged with a respectful bow.

A faint smile hung on Sun Chengzong's face, while inwardly he was so delighted he nearly jumped for joy.

In truth, he had never seen the Great Ming's army open fire with such intensity. There had been drills before, but their power couldn't compare to what he'd just witnessed—this wanton, unrestrained barrage was truly a pleasure to behold.

But Sun Chengzong also knew that all this firepower cost money. Just this one volley alone—who knew how much silver it had consumed.

He would have someone calculate it carefully later, hoping it wasn't a sum that would pain his heart. Still, the money was well spent—if war truly broke out, the cost would surely exceed this many times over.

Now these people were too terrified to wage war against the Great Ming—well worth it!

After Zhu Youxiao left, the gathering dispersed, and the common folk in attendance went their separate ways too.

Though they didn't feel particularly squeamish—they could accept killing—they still didn't want to stand around watching the cleanup.

After discussing among themselves, their excitement grew, and then each went on their way.

The entire city of Shenyang once again plunged into celebration. This time, the Great Ming's army had truly given them invincible confidence.

Buoyed by that confidence, they celebrated with immense joy—wine and meat were once again in short supply.

These past days, Shenyang's consumption had been enormous—supplying so many troops and civilians, plus the merchants who had come.

The Mongol merchant caravans had been coming and going constantly; demand for mutton and beef was extremely high, and prices kept climbing ever upward.

The Ming people who came from the interior ate beef and mutton as if their lives depended on it. Under such circumstances, business was booming beyond measure.

Once prices went up, they became even more motivated, running back and forth to sell.

These people from the Great Ming felt that the cattle and sheep here were far better than what they usually ate, especially the beef.

In many parts of the Great Ming, private slaughter of cattle was not permitted, so beef was rarely available. In recent years, dried beef had been sold over, but how could that compare to the taste of fresh beef?

Arriving here, they could eat to their heart's content, and the prices weren't expensive at all. They couldn't eat it before, so what was spending a bit of money now?

Mutton was the same—the price was even lower than what they used to pay, and the quality was better, so they all ate their fill.

With the military's procurement added on top, consumption in this period was enormous, and trade throughout the entire city of Shenyang flourished.

Caravans came and went in a steady stream. The Mongols came here to sell wool, mutton, sheep, cattle, horses—they sold everything.

And the Ming merchants were the same, dumping all sorts of textiles and other goods over here in one go.

For a time, commerce in Shenyang was thriving, but there were also many incidents, and no small number of contradictions brewing.

Yet after this military exercise, those contradictions seemed to have vanished, and the entire city of Shenyang became considerably more peaceful.

Indeed, range is justice, caliber is truth, and the more ammunition, the more peace.

For Zhu Youxiao, none of these matters were worth his concern. What he truly needed to focus on was the banquet in the palace.

He didn't need to arrange any of it either, because others had already handled things properly—he only needed to attend.

After Zhu Youxiao sat down, he noticed that the atmosphere at the scene was quite different.

Compared to before, these people showed him much more respect. This respect seemed to come from the very depths of their bones.

When they looked at him, their eyes carried fear and admiration—some didn't even dare to look at him at all, and the smiles on their faces were full of fawning and flattery.

This filled Zhu Youxiao with satisfaction.

Indeed, his thinking had been correct—after letting them see the Great Ming's strength, everyone's cooperation would become much smoother.

It was simple: the Great Ming's strength was the true foundation of cooperation, and this had never changed. Everything was the same as in later ages—it had to be settled by force. Especially in this era, such naked rules were even more apparent.

Zhu Youxiao had now accepted this as well, and it seemed the results were quite good.

Zhu Youxiao's mood improved considerably this evening, and he drank no small amount of wine.

Naturally, it was Bumbutai who attended to Zhu Youxiao by his side.

This sight made quite a few people at the scene burn with envy.

No good—when we get back, we absolutely must send our daughters over too!