Chapter 265: The Imperial Fleet Sets Sail

He fell silent for a long time.

Ye Xianggao thought back to his first appointment as Chief Grand Secretary, lost in reverie.

That was the thirty-sixth year of Wanli. The lingering warmth of Zhang Juzheng's reforms was fading, and beneath the calm surface of the Great Ming, undercurrents were already churning.

The Emperor had ceased holding court, factional strife was severe, the court was torn apart, mining taxes wrought havoc, popular resentment boiled over, and the Jianzhou barbarians were on the rise.

Ye Xianggao realized that if things continued this way, the realm would surely descend into chaos and the Great Ming faced the danger of collapse, so he repeatedly submitted memorials of earnest admonition.

Yet all his memorials were kept in the palace without response, vanishing like stones dropped into the sea.

Not to mention local posts left unfilled—even the Grand Secretariat was sustained by Ye Xianggao alone, struggling to hold things together.

For the sake of the realm's people, Ye Xianggao rose early and worked late every day, doing the work of eight men single-handedly, exhausting himself until his back ached, his eyes blurred, and he coughed blood. His health deteriorated steadily—he was practically propping up the court with his very life—and yet when he finally left office, he had been nothing more than a paper-patching craftsman, having accomplished nothing.

Now, once again, the regime stood at a moment of crisis.

Ye Xianggao had not yet perceived it, but his sovereign had known beforehand, and had in turn laid out the stakes for him, the Chief Grand Secretary...

If only the Wanli Emperor back then had possessed even half of this... the realm would not have come to its present state.

At this thought, Ye Xianggao's heart surged with emotion.

After a long while, Ye Xianggao raised his head, let out a long sigh, and then said: "In my younger days, I served as the Great Ming's sole Grand Secretary, single-handedly sustaining the two capitals and thirteen provinces for six full years. Now, counting Dongning, Nan'ao is but four provinces' worth of land—no matter how great the territory, I can handle it.

Helmsman, go forth and do what you must."

Lin Qian rose and bowed deeply to Ye Xianggao with clasped hands.

That night, Ye Zhen lay in bed holding Lin Qian's arm and said softly: "Husband, this voyage to the Southern Ocean—must you truly go in person?"

Since their marriage, Ye Zhen had been obedient in all things, deferring entirely to Lin Qian. This attitude of hers was already a sign of opposition.

Lin Qian said: "This campaign is far beyond our borders and of utmost importance. It requires commanding all parties and committing the full elite strength of Nan'ao's navy. Military and political matters are too numerous and complex to be conveyed back and forth by hawk ship—I must lead the expedition in person."

Ye Zhen remained silent for a long time, and Lin Qian was racking his brain for how to comfort her.

Then Ye Zhen spoke: "Then this wife will pray day and night to Mazu, hoping for my husband's safe return."

"And our child—we'll wait for my husband to return before giving him a name."

"And Grandfather's birthday celebration—we'll also wait until my husband returns to hold it."

"That's fine."

"And also..."

"Stop." Lin Qian's scalp prickled and he quickly called a halt. "Why do you keep planting more and more flags?"

Although the Great Ming had no concept of "planting flags," seafaring folk still considered it taboo to speak too absolutely.

Ye Zhen had been anxious and forgotten this, so she quickly tried to reassure herself: "Right, right! Everything I just said doesn't count... no, no—the prayers to Mazu, those still count... oh dear, you're still laughing!"

A few days later, Chen Jiao, Lei Sanxiang, Zheng Zhilong, and the others all returned to Nan'ao one after another.

Since their operations had expanded, the sworn brothers rarely gathered in full force. This time, taking advantage of the joint military-political conference, everyone was finally assembled. Lin Qian had the household prepare food and drink, and the brothers ate meat, drank wine, and boasted loudly, making a tremendous racket.

Before they knew it, the day of Nan'ao's supreme joint military-political conference arrived.

Attendees arrived early to wait in the great hall of the Government Affairs Hall. Qin Liangyu brought her son and daughter-in-law to observe, and Ye Xianggao also made a rare appearance. There were so many participants that dozens of extra chairs had to be added, packing the entire hall full. With so many people crowded together, the hall was sweltering—many were drenched in sweat before the meeting even began.

Lin Qian entered from behind the screen, and everyone rose together, clasping their hands in salute: "Helmsman."

Lin Qian said: "Please, everyone be seated."

Only after he sat down did the others take their seats one after another.

In the corner, Ma Xianglin said in a low voice: "Everyone saluting together like this—it's a bit like a mountain bandit chief."

Zhang Fengyi said: "Is that so? I think it feels more like a grand court assembly, just without the three kneelings and nine prostrations."

Qin Liangyu scolded them in a low voice: "Both of you, shut up!"

The Government Affairs Hall was built in imitation of a Great Ming Governor's yamen. Behind the main seat hung a huge screen depicting waves and mountain cliffs.

Before the surging waves and crashing breakers, Lin Qian, seated in the main position, spoke: "I'm sure everyone knows why we're here today, so I won't belabor the point. Zheng Zhilong, tell us about the situation in Malacca."

Zheng Zhilong rose, clasped his hands in salute to Lin Qian and the assembled company, and then said: "The Sultanate of Aceh and the Ottoman Empire share the same origins. Their ties are extremely close, and they join forces to oppose the Portuguese on the Indian Ocean.

The Ottoman Empire is a top-tier power spanning three continents. Its infantry, cavalry, and artillery are all first-rate, and it fights simultaneously on multiple land and sea fronts across Asia, Europe, and Africa. Its strength is second only to the Mughal Empire.

The Sultanate of Aceh receives massive economic and military support from the Ottoman Empire. In tactical style and military strength, the two are nearly identical—the only difference lies in scale."

The Chartered Agricultural Company controlled by Zheng Zhilong was closest to the Sultanate of Aceh and had collected a great deal of intelligence on it. Even the intelligence used by the Military Intelligence Staff Office came from Zheng Zhilong.

As he spoke, attendants had already wheeled out a map marked with the relative positions and approximate territorial extents of the Ottoman Empire, the Sultanate of Aceh, the Mughal Empire, and the Great Ming.

Huang Hetai couldn't help exclaiming: "Such vast territory? Surely it can't be stronger than the Great Ming?"

Chen Jiao said: "The Great Ming is strong on paper, but it's long since rotted through, riddled with holes. The Ottomans, the Mughals, and Aceh are all at the peak of their national power—is there even a comparison to be made?"

Ma Xianglin listened with wide, staring eyes and asked Qin Liangyu for confirmation: "Mother, is what they're saying true? Beyond the Central Plains, there are actually barbarian nations this powerful?" Zhang Fengyi added: "Well, we're going to sail with the fleet anyway—true or false, we'll see it with our own eyes when we get there, won't we?"

Zheng Zhilong had the map flipped to the next page. The new map's scope was much smaller, covering only the vicinity of the Strait of Malacca.

On it were marked the spheres of influence of Aceh, Johor, the city of Malacca, and the Dutch.

"According to merchants passing through Banda Aceh (the capital of the Sultanate of Aceh and an important port), for this campaign Aceh has prepared a total of twenty thousand troops and three hundred warships, including forty heavy artillery ships.

Of course, these so-called heavy artillery ships are still oared sailing vessels—more men, slower speed, fewer cannons. They can't compare to Nan'ao's mainline warships.

But don't forget—the battlefield for this campaign is in the equatorial doldrums, the home ground of oared vessels. Nan'ao's wind-powered warships would be like sitting ducks there, with every disadvantage on full display."

Zheng Zhilong paused, then said: "Therefore, our army's disadvantage in this campaign is too great. It would be best not to get involved."

Lin Qian asked: "Zhong Aqi, you've been through the equatorial doldrums. How did you manage to break out of Malacca back then?"

Zheng Zhilong sat back down, and Zhong Aqi rose to his feet and said: "Just as Director Zheng said, that place is cursed. One day there'd be howling gales, the next it was like sailing into a transparent dome—not a breath of wind, and the ship simply couldn't move. My fleet only made it to the mouth of the Strait of Malacca by towing with rowboats. Once we reached the mouth, we waited for the wind to slowly carry us forward as day and night alternated.

That place doesn't stay windless forever, though. It often acts up like a fever, blowing strong gusts for an hour or an hour at a time. I relied on those gusts, hugging the northern shore, to blast through the strait."

Zheng Zhilong said: "Helmsman, that wind is far too unreliable. You can barely navigate with it—trying to fight a battle relying on those gusts is nothing but gambling with your life."

Zhong Aqi agreed: "Right. The strong winds in the strait come and go without any pattern. Even if there were a pattern, the Acehnese have lived here for generations—they'd know it better than we would."

"After breaking out of the strait, did the wind pick up at the northwestern mouth?" Lin Qian asked.

"There's wind at the northwestern mouth, but it's not strong—warships can only sail at low speed."

Lin Qian then asked about the situation of their Aceh allies.

Zheng Zhilong replied that whether the Ottoman Empire would send men was unclear, but the Dutch were certain to dispatch troops—according to merchants plying the routes, Batavia was already on full war footing.

The great hall immediately buzzed with discussion—weather, monsoons, ships, troop strength, supply lines—in every respect, Nan'ao was at a disadvantage, and anyone with eyes could see that sending out the fleet meant certain defeat.

At once, people rose one after another, urging Lin Qian to abandon the plan.

Ma Xianglin watched the clamorous hall, fanning himself as he muttered in a low voice: "Looks like this trip of ours isn't happening after all."

Qin Liangyu, however, said: "Don't jump to conclusions. Helmsman Lin looks young, but in truth he's deeply calculating. If he weren't confident, he wouldn't have called this assembly."

After the crowd's chorus of dissuasion, Lin Qian had everyone quiet down and laid out the same reasoning he had given Ye Xianggao the day before.

Everyone stood frozen on the spot.

Lin Qian's words seemed alarmist on the surface, yet upon reflection, they were indeed difficult to refute.

Someone said: "In less than half a year, Nan'ao's first cruising warships will be launched. Those ships are designed specifically for single-ship commerce-raiding operations—surely they can handle Dutch raiders?"

Before Lin Qian could speak, someone from the Navy Department retorted: "Commerce-raiding is for striking at others' shipping lanes.

When it comes to protecting your own routes, the effectiveness drops considerably—and besides, with Nan'ao's national strength, can we afford a war of attrition against the Dutch?"

It was now nearly noon; the great hall was growing hotter, with not a breath of wind, and everyone felt as if they had already arrived in the equatorial doldrums. On top of that, the war-gaming had reached a deadlock, and the ceaseless chirping of cicadas outside the hall only made everyone's mood more irritable.

Lin Qian gave Ranqiu a look, and moments later, servants filed in from the courtyard in single file, bearing trays in their hands, each tray holding bowls of dessert with spoons stuck in them.

The servants wove through the assembled crowd, distributing the desserts.

Ma Xianglin took one, tried a bite, and exclaimed in surprise: "It's cold!"

Zhang Fengyi also said: "So sweet, like honey water! And there's a milky fragrance—Mother, you must try it!"

Qin Liangyu had risen to the rank of Regional Commander and was a woman of wide experience, yet even she was momentarily taken aback at the sight of the dessert. In the white porcelain bowl lay a snow-white jelly, like tofu, quivering with a springy bounce, topped with raisins, red bean paste, and honey as garnish.

Qin Liangyu scooped up a spoonful and brought it to her mouth—the thing was slightly cool, rich with milky fragrance, carrying threads of sweetness that lifted one's spirits, as if galloping across the northern grasslands with the wind in one's face.

Zhang Fengyi asked the servant what kind of dessert this was.

The servant said: "This is called double-skin milk, a delicacy found only in the Helmsman's household. Before the meeting, the Helmsman had us chill it in the well." Double-skin milk was a delicacy only invented during the Kangxi era; its ingredients and method were extremely simple—Lin Qian merely described it by word of mouth, and Uncle Chen learned it at once.

To Lin Qian, such a trivial matter was hardly worth mentioning.

But Qin Liangyu thought of the Great Ming court—when the Governor-General's yamen held deliberations, martial officers were considered fortunate to be allowed inside to stand, and even sweating was not to be wiped carelessly; one had to endure it stoically. Where was there ever such treatment as being given seats and chilled desserts?

Even under Lord Zhu's command, martial officers were merely spared verbal abuse.

And here on Lin Qian's side, he treated the worthy with such courtesy—no wonder so many were willing to serve the Helmsman with all their hearts.

Ye Xianggao, meanwhile, thought of the night Guangning fell, when the grand secretaries were summoned before the Emperor in the dead of night, arranged in the duty room, waiting bitterly for five full double-hours—nearly from the Hour of the Rat all the way to noon.

Not so much as a hot meal was offered, and there was only a single brazier of charcoal.

The youngest of the grand secretaries was already fifty years old; frozen stiff all night long, half his life drained away, and still he never laid eyes on the Emperor. Though everyone knew Wei Zhongxian was the one pulling strings behind it all, it was hard not to feel a chill in one's heart.

If the Emperor had been willing to see the grand secretaries even once—even just a single word of concern—perhaps Ye Xianggao would not have been so disheartened as to resign.

After drinking the double-skin milk, the restlessness in the hall subsided considerably.

Scholar Zhou tentatively proposed: "What if... we strike at Batavia instead—besiege Wei to rescue Zhao?"

Zheng Zhilong said: "The Dutch have operated in Batavia for over a decade. Their bastion forts are built like iron buckets, lined with numerous coastal guns, and the locals would tip them off. Never mind taking it—even besieging it would be nearly impossible."

Amid the clamor of the crowd, Lin Qian said: "We take the Sunda Strait and sail around."

"What?" Everyone fell silent, staring at Lin Qian in disbelief.

In truth, everyone had heard him clearly—it was simply that no one could believe it. The plan was too wild, too fanciful, simply inconceivable.

Lin Qian repeated: "We cross the Sunda Strait, sail along the southwest side of Sumatra, and loop around to the northwest mouth of the Strait of Malacca. The winds there will be sufficient for our fleet to fight."

The great hall fell silent in an instant—so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The naval staff officers were stunned dumb by this mad plan.

After a long while, someone finally stammered: "Helm... Helmsman, the Sunda Strait sits right beside Batavia—that's the Dutch lair!"

Lin Qian said calmly: "One cannot catch tiger cubs without entering the tiger's den. Surely the Dutch and the Acehnese would never expect us to pass through there."

Lin Qian dared to make this bold plan because, historically, the Dutch ultimately never sent troops to Malacca—the Mataram Sultanate on Java chose that moment to besiege Batavia, leaving the Dutch unable to save themselves, pulling all their ships and forces back toward Java.

Even if, through the butterfly effect, the Dutch truly did send reinforcements,

then Nan'ao's fleet passing through the Sunda Strait would still draw the Dutch fleet back to defend, splitting the Dutch and the Acehnese apart to be defeated one by one.

And if the Dutch were already blockading the Sunda Strait, Lin Qian still had a secret weapon—one that could sail through the doldrums and charge straight into Malacca for a head-on clash.

This expedition was Lin Qian's best chance to crush the Acehnese navy and open the Strait of Malacca—possibly the only chance in the next decade or more, and the window was extremely narrow.

No matter how one planned, risk could never be eliminated entirely; if one dared not take any risk at all, then why go to sea—one might as well grow old and die on shore. The staff officers ran through the plans against their maps and realized that Lin Qian's scheme truly was the most feasible of all options.

Lin Qian said to Ma Chenglie and Huang Hetai: "This campaign will take at least three months, at most half a year. During that time, the defense of Fujian and Guangdong is entrusted to you two."

As their territory had expanded, the positions of Ma and Huang had risen accordingly—each now controlled the defense of the two Guangs and Fujian respectively.

The two rose and clasped their fists: "Rest assured, Helmsman!"

Lin Qian continued: "Director Zhou, Zheng Zhilong will be accompanying this campaign, so the burden of the Governance Department will fall on your shoulders."

Scholar Zhou rose, radiating righteousness: "Your servant shall exert himself to the utmost, until death do us part!"

Ye Xianggao shot him a look, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

"Governor Chen, this campaign requires the transfer of all of Nan'ao's main naval warships. Only the Sea Wolf-class ships will remain along the coast for defense—those vessels are more than adequate against Ming naval forces, but if foreign enemies come with great ships and heavy cannon, there is absolutely no chance of victory; you must rely on the coastal artillery for defense. I entrust the near-sea defense to you. I beg of you."

Chen Jiao rose and clasped his fists, murderous aura radiating from his entire body: "Rest assured, Helmsman—I will never let an enemy trespass upon our seas!"

"Regional Commander Lei, all of Nan'ao's land forces are at your disposal. During this period, mop up the remaining enemies in Guangxi and assist in the defense of Fujian and Guangdong."

Lei Sanxiang rose, clasping his fists with a solemn expression: "This one understands!"

Arrangements settled, and seeing no further objections, Lin Qian approved the battle plan and said: "This time we must move with lightning speed. We'll take only the four whale ships—10, 11, 12, and 13—refitted with soft sails.

All of our yacht-class vessels will sortie as well. Bring the Voyager stationed at Macao and the Cape of Good Hope stationed at Hoi An, plus the Candle Dragon, Tianyuan, and Zheng He—fourteen warships in total, four troop transports, and twenty eagle ships.

Plus one thousand marines, over a thousand flintlock musketeers, and two hundred Siraya mercenaries.

From today, send word to Pattani—tell them to prepare their soldiers and warships, and tell them the chance to avenge the Sultana has come!"

Our main force will prepare for half a month; half a month later, the fleet sets sail!"

On the first day of the sixth month in the ninth year of Tianqi, the Nan'ao fleet departed, heading for Xinquan Harbor in Water Zhenla.

At the harbor, it was packed with the families of the soldiers—over ten thousand people crammed the port so tightly that not a drop of water could pass through. The crowd waved at the fleet, silently weeping. On that very same day, the dying Tianqi Emperor finally breathed his last, and the only one who wept for his passing was a single young eunuch who served him personally. When Wei Zhongxian learned of this, he immediately sealed off the news, kept the death secret, and urgently summoned Cui Chengxiu to the palace to secretly plot a coup.

At this time, nearly all the empire's troops were under the control of the eunuch faction, and the palace guards and attendants in the Forbidden City were all Wei Zhongxian's confidants.

With this kind of power, if it were Li Shimin, he would dare to launch the Xuanwu Gate Incident ten thousand times over.

But Wei Zhongxian was, after all, a eunuch without roots. Throughout history, there had only been eunuchs causing political chaos—never a eunuch seizing power and declaring himself emperor.

Even the most powerful eunuchs of the late Tang could at most depose or install emperors; they never dared to sit on the throne themselves.

During the Tianqi Emperor's lifetime, Wei Zhongxian had conspired with Ke Shi to harm the harem, wiping out all of the Tianqi Emperor's offspring.

When the emperor was on his deathbed, Wei Zhongxian had hesitated and dithered, unable to make up his mind.

Now the emperor was dead, and before his death he had left an oral decree for Prince Xin, Zhu Youjian, to ascend the throne, backed by Empress Zhang's support.

Wei Zhongxian didn't even have a puppet he could prop up on the throne—what difference was there between rashly rising up and seeking death?

After Cui Chengxiu poured cold water on the idea, Wei Zhongxian still refused to give up and asked, "What about Lin Qian? For the Nan'ao army to securely occupy Min and Yue, they can't do without me. Lin Qian will surely protect me!"

Cui Chengxiu didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and only said, "Nine Thousand Years, it's too late! If you had said this a month earlier, Lin Qian might have sent a fleet to the capital, but now the emperor has already ascended to heaven—we can't keep this secret for long!"

Having said this, Cui Chengxiu suddenly remembered something and asked urgently, "What about Empress Zhang? Has Empress Zhang's residence been placed under watch?"

Wei Zhongxian was stunned, then said in frustration, "Damn it!"

While the two were in secret discussion, the Tianqi Empress Zhang Yan had already personally led people through the palace barriers. On one hand, she informed the Grand Secretariat and the nobility of the emperor's death; on the other, she issued an edict in the Empress's name, inviting Prince Xin, Zhu Youjian, to enter the palace and ascend the throne.

After receiving the edict, Zhu Youjian lifted his foot to head for the palace, but was stopped by an old eunuch: "This servant will tidy Your Highness's robes and cap."

The old eunuch took the opportunity to draw close, leaning to Zhu Youjian's ear, and said in an extremely low voice: "Your Highness, please bring food and drink, hidden in your sleeve. After entering the palace, be careful in everything—do not eat a single grain or drink a single drop of water. Remember this! Remember this!"

The old eunuch finished arranging the robes and cap, stepped back to the side, and smiled: "All tidied up. Shall Your Highness set out?"

Zhu Youjian smiled and said he had forgotten something and needed to fetch it.

The matter was sudden; there was no ready food in the kitchen, only half a sack of parched wheat meant for the servants and a jug of clear water.

Zhu Youjian bound these tightly to his arm with hemp cord, then let his wide sleeve fall to conceal them, ensuring everything was secure before he went out.

That day the north wind howled through the capital, and the sky was heavily overcast. Unexpectedly, in the mere time it took to fetch some dry rations from the kitchen, goose-feather snow began to fall from the sky. Within the prince's courtyard, a layer quickly covered the ground.

Zhu Youjian felt an indescribable unease in his heart. He trod through the accumulated snow, slowly walking to the gate, then suddenly stopped and, as if possessed, glanced back behind him. He met the gazes of his household's family and servants.

In the instant his eyes crossed with his wife Zhou Shi's, it seemed a thousand words passed between them.

Zhu Youjian took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stepped into the swirling wind and snow.

When he arrived before the gates of the Forbidden City, Wei Zhongxian had sent his own partisans to receive him.

Walking among a group of eunuch-faction guards, Zhu Youjian felt as though prying eyes pierced through his entire body.

He forced himself to endure all the way to Wenhua Hall, where he was arranged to stay temporarily. The eunuchs attending him were all Wei Zhongxian's confidants.

Zhu Youjian dared not sleep at all. He sat alone by a screened candle, his nerves stretched to the breaking point.

In his panic, his mind replayed over and over the scene of his imperial brother summoning him.

Aside from "My brother shall be a Yao or a Shun," the Tianqi Emperor had also spoken two other sentences: "Treat Empress Zhang well" and "Zhongxian is scrupulous, loyal, and true—he can be entrusted with great matters."

These were respectively spoken for the two other people present.

The words truly meant for Zhu Youjian had come before Wei Zhongxian entered the warm chamber.

He had said: "In this life, your elder brother did as he pleased, carefree and content, yet he had two great regrets—one is the Jianzhou barbarians, the other is Nan'ao.

When I had time, I failed to pacify and destroy the rebels. By the time I wanted to rouse myself again, it was already too late...

This burden of a thousand jun can only be handed to you. I believe you will surely be able to remedy my failings..."

Zhu Youjian wanted to ask where to begin, whom to use and whom to trust, but before he could speak, Wei Zhongxian had already entered.

After that came the words "My brother shall be a Yao or a Shun."

The look in his imperial brother's eyes when he said those words was etched firmly into Zhu Youjian's heart.

Now, alone in the palace with danger lurking on every side, Zhu Youjian was terrified—but when he recalled his brother's gaze and admonition, he instead calmed down.

"Your Highness, this maidservant will make Your Highness's bed."

At this moment, the hall door quietly opened, and a palace maid entered.

Zhu Youjian looked up. This palace maid was in the bloom of youth, around sixteen, with a graceful figure, eyes like spring water, rosy lips and white teeth, a face like peach blossoms, and a clear, seductive voice. The moment she entered the hall, a faint fragrance of powder drifted over.

"The late emperor has just passed; this prince cannot be near women's charms. Leave." Zhu Youjian said flatly.

The palace maid was both embarrassed and timid, and said in a low voice: "Your Highness, this maidservant is only making the bed—it's palace rules..."

"Leave!" Zhu Youjian's gaze shot over, his voice carrying a chilling authority.

The palace maid was startled, hastily withdrew her seductive manner, and retreated.

Wei Zhongxian would resort to such low tricks—it showed he was at the end of his rope. Zhu Youjian's heart grew even more settled.

At this time, the night-patrol officer's clapper sounded. Zhu Youjian called for the attending eunuch and asked, "The night patrol works hard. I wish to give them some rewards—how should this be done?"

"Palace food and drink are under the jurisdiction of the Court of Imperial Entertainments. Your Highness may issue an edict to have them brought for the reward."

Zhu Youjian had the eunuch deliver the edict. The eunuch was Wei Zhongxian's confidant, placed there to keep watch and await an opportunity.

But Wei Zhongxian himself was still indecisive, and moreover, Zhu Youjian was upright and awe-inspiring without needing to show anger—he already bore the bearing of a sovereign.

The eunuch dared not defy him and hurried off to deliver the edict.

A stick of incense later, the night-patrol officers received the new sovereign's reward of food and drink. Thunderous cheers erupted as they shouted "Long live the Emperor!" outside the hall to give thanks.

Zhu Youjian grew even more settled at heart, a smile curving at the corners of his mouth.

Sitting in stillness, he pondered the state of affairs again and again.

Ke Shi, the Wei eunuch, Nan'ao, the roving bandits, She'an, the Jianzhou barbarians...

These enemies, he would eliminate one by one.

Zhu Youjian raised his head, his gaze piercing through the glazed tiles of Wenhua Hall, reaching straight to the heavens.

Father Emperor, Imperial Brother, rest assured — I, Zhu Youjian, will work tirelessly from dawn to dusk, vigilant morning and night, and even if I must exhaust everything, I will restore the Great Ming to glory!

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen