Chapter 109

Zhu Di looked at Zhu Zhu Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang with some confusion and said,

"Father, but what do we do after we find Zhu Zhu Zhu Zhu Zhu Yunwen?"

Zhu Zhu Zhu Zhu Yuanzhang looked at the last teleportation talisman remaining in the chat group and whispered in a low voice,

"What kind of time is this, that we still have the luxury to worry about him?!"

"Save whoever we can!"

Upon hearing this, Zhu Di's heart leaped with joy.

He immediately cupped his hands and said,

"Your son receives the decree."

During the Yongle era.

The Prince of Han, the Prince of Zhao, and the Crown Prince looked at each other in bewilderment, staring at Zhu Di behind the screen.

"Who is our father talking to?"

"Why all this 'your son receives the decree'? Has our grandfather risen from the dead?"

"Pah, if the old man rose from the dead, could our father act like this?"

"..."

Before the three could even react,

Zhu Di had already slowly walked out from behind the screen.

Looking at the few people before him, he whispered in a low voice,

"Eldest."

Upon hearing this, Zhu Gaochi froze for a moment.

"Ah."

"You continue to supervise the state affairs for a few more days; I am going out to handle some matters."

Zhu Gaochi looked at Zhu Di with some confusion and asked,

"Father, what matters?"

Zhu Di snorted coldly and said,

"To meet a few old friends."

Zhu Gaochi and the other two looked at each other, then spoke in unison,

"Your sons receive the decree!"

With that said, Zhu Di walked on his own toward the imperial bedchamber.

As soon as he entered the bedchamber,

shimmering white light instantly appeared beneath Zhu Di's feet.

Then, everything before his eyes turned white.

By the time Zhu Di came to his senses again,

he was already situated within a military camp.

Standing before him was a youth whose figure bore a slight resemblance to Zhu Zhu Zhanji.

Outside the military camp, chaos had already erupted.

"The Tartars have broken in!"

"General, Tartars are raiding the camp from the north!"

"..."

Looking at the youth before him, Zhu Di could not help but let out a long sigh.

Before Zhu Di could even open his mouth,

Fan Zhong, his temples gray and covered in bloodstains, walked toward the main camp.

"Your Majesty, the Duke of Ying ordered this humble official to escort..."

Before he could finish speaking, Fan Zhong saw the old man standing before him.

Fan Zhong's words cut off abruptly, while that old man teased him just as he had in days past:

"Fan Zhong, so even you have grown old, eh?"

95, Esen: Zhu Di has died in battle!

Inside the central command tent, Fan Zhong, his temples flecked with gray, looked at Zhu Di before him in disbelief.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down several times, and instantly something seemed to swirl in his eyes.

"Em... Your Majesty..."

Zhu Di's expression gradually grew solemn; placing his hands on his hips, he whispered in a low voice,

"How many troops does your vanguard camp have left?!"

Fan Zhong's body trembled, and he declared in a clear voice,

"Of the three thousand brothers in the vanguard camp, there are still over fifteen hundred who can mount their horses and fight!"

Upon hearing this number,

Zhu Di's heart could not help but tremble.

These were the elite of the elite who had followed him all the way from Beiping to Jin Ling during the Jingnan Campaign back then!

Standing alone before the sand table, Zhu Di let out a long breath and whispered in a low voice,

"Good!"

"Tell those little brats in the vanguard camp to sharpen their blades bright and charge up with me to kill another round!"

Fan Zhong instantly excitedly dropped to his knees.

"This humble general vows to follow Your Majesty unto death!"

Standing outside the tent, Wang Zhen witnessed this scene and, as if seizing a lifesaving straw,

rushed straight into the tent.

"Audacious Fan Zhong! Are you blind? His Majesty is right here; why do you bow to this old man?!"

Upon hearing this, Fan Zhong instantly snapped his head up.

He fixed his gaze firmly on Wang Zhen.

The killing intent suppressed all along the way was no longer concealed in the slightest.

Watched by Fan Zhong, Wang Zhen could not help but shudder.

His imposing manner instantly weakened by several degrees.

"You... do you truly intend to rebel?"

Zhu Di looked at Wang Zhen expressionlessly and asked softly,

"So you are Wang Zhen?"

Wang Zhen glanced at Zhu Di, then looked at Zhu Zhu Zhu Zhu Zhu Qizhen, whom he had shielded behind him.

Instantly stiffening his neck, he declared loudly,

"Indeed I am!"

"Good. I intend to borrow something from you for use. Are you willing?"

Hearing this, Wang Zhen froze.

"'I'? You also deserve to call yourself 'I'?! You..."

Before Wang Zhen could finish his sentence, he suddenly felt a flash of cold light before his eyes.

Then he lost consciousness forever.

The entire tent instantly filled with a thick scent of blood.

As if tossing a watermelon, Zhu Di lifted Wang Zhen's severed head and threw it onto Zhu Zhu Zhu Zhu Zhu Qizhen's imperial desk, yet his gaze inevitably fell upon the suit of armor he often wore, hanging in the corner of the command tent.

"You brat even brought this along?"

"Today, your great-grandfather will teach you how to fight a war; watch carefully."

Standing in the corner, Zhu Zhu Zhu Zhu Zhu Qizhen immediately stepped forward, cupped his hands, and said,

"This son-subject obeys the imperial decree!"

Zhu Di stared intently at the Oirat cavalry within the tent, a trace of killing intent suddenly surfacing in his eyes.

"Armor me!"

"Yes!"

Fan Zhong personally stepped forward, just as he had more than twenty years ago, and helped Zhu Di don his armor.

Once armored, Zhu Di yanked the saber hanging on the wall from its scabbard and vaulted onto his warhorse in one fluid motion.

……

……

Outside the central command tent.

Zhang Fu, Duke of Ying, stood with over a hundred Personal Guards, desperately shielding the central command tent.

While slashing and killing, he hoarsely shouted in accusation,

"What exactly is Fan Zhong doing? Is His Majesty ready? The Tatars ahead are growing more numerous by the moment!"

Before his words had even faded,

Zhang Fu immediately heard the rapid clatter of hooves approaching from behind.

Followed by a familiar stream of reprimands.

"How many times must I say it? Form ranks, form ranks!"

"Form ranks! Is this how your officers taught you to form ranks?!"

"Who taught you to set up camp like this? Once this battle is over, I will personally behead the official in charge of construction!"

"If you're not dead, get up, mount your horse, and follow me; I will lead you to break out!"

"Where are the cannons of the Divine Machine Battalion?!"

"Do not panic, do not panic!"

"Hang Wang Zhen's head up for all to see!"

"……"

Just as Fan Zhong held Wang Zhen's head high,

the Ming army, which had been on the verge of collapse,

began to gradually restore order to its entire battle strategy.

While Zhang Fu was still standing there in a daze,

Zhu Di unleashed a torrent of fierce scolding right in his face.

"You little whelp, why are you standing there frozen? You've fought wars for so many years; have you become so old that you've forgotten how to fight?!"

"Your Majesty."

"Save the nonsense for later; get on your horse and stabilize the lines immediately!"

"After this battle is won, I will settle accounts with you good-for-nothings and see what kind of soldiers you have trained!"

Zhang Fu, who had been stunned in place, dared not delay for a moment and immediately mounted his horse to join the fray.

At that very moment,

Zhu Di, who was stabilizing the situation within the camp, suddenly noticed a squadron of Oirat cavalry charging rapidly toward the Ming central army in the distance, among whom seemed to be several familiar faces.

A cold sneer inadvertently curled the corners of Zhu Di's mouth.

He immediately wheeled his horse around and charged straight toward that squadron of cavalry.

Fan Zhong, leading a squad of Personal Guards from the Vanguard Battalion, followed closely behind to protect Zhu Di.

The leader of that Oirat cavalry squadron

was none other than Esen, the Oirat Regional Commander, Grand Preceptor, Prince of Huai, and Right Chancellor of the Secretariat!

At that moment, Esen's eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the central command tent in the distance.

His face was flushed with excitement.

Twenty years!

The warriors of the grasslands have finally killed their way back!

How could that old Emperor have imagined that the realm he had worked so hard to conquer would ultimately be handed over to such useless descendants?!

Just as the smile on Esen's face began to turn sinister, he suddenly noticed

that amidst the Ming army, which had already descended into chaos, a squadron of cavalry had burst forth, charging directly toward him with sheer force!

The expression on Esen's face gradually grew grave.

Fixing his gaze on the Ming troops before him, he gritted his teeth and whispered,

"My sons..."

Before Esen could finish his sentence,

he clearly recognized the face of the newcomer under the bright moonlight.

That face, like a nightmare, which had kept all the tribal groups of the grasslands in anxious fear for twenty years!

Esen froze completely in place.

Meanwhile, Zhu Di skillfully drew an arrow, and before Esen could regain his senses,

a "whoosh" rang out.

Esen's helmet was knocked flying by Zhu Di's arrow.

Reacting on pure instinct, Esen immediately rolled off his warhorse without hesitation.

Seeing this scene, Zhu Di disregarded the ongoing combat, immediately raised his voice while still mounted, and shouted,

"Esen is dead! Lay down your weapons and you shall not be killed!"

Fan Zhong, following behind Zhu Di, immediately joined in, shouting the news of Esen's death in both Mongolian and Chinese.

The Oirat cavalry within the camp, unaware of the situation, looked toward the direction of their Grand Preceptor.

Sure enough, they saw the Kheshig in complete disarray.

In an instant, the Oirat army fell into great chaos.

Meanwhile, Duke of Britain Zhang Fu also seized the opportunity.

Leading the various battalions under his command, he launched a counterattack.

The Oirat army, whose offensive had previously been fierce, finally began to show signs of collapse.

Esen, helped to his feet by others, almost instinctively shouted sternly,

"Why are you all standing there dumbstruck? Shout as well!"

"Zhu Di is dead!"

The Kheshig guards behind him didn't even think.

Immediately, they too began screaming themselves hoarse within the Ming army's camp.

"Zhu Di is dead!"

At that moment.

The originally noisy battlefield fell into deathly silence almost instantly.

Whether Ming soldiers or Oirat cavalry, everyone took a moment amidst the chaos to shoot Esen's Kheshig personal guards a withering glance.

Damn it, do we need you to tell us Zhu Di is dead?

Forget about Zhu Di.

Even Zhu Di's grandson is dead!

Did your village just get internet access?

The fierce battle between both sides continued, but after these small interludes, the Ming army reversed their declining fortunes.

After losing all advantage.

The Oirat cavalry almost without hesitation disengaged from the Ming army.

Zhu Di, who witnessed all this with his own eyes, could not help but grow solemn.

In merely a few decades.

How had the Oirat tribe grown so powerful?

Steppe warfare boils down to only two words.

That is "flexibility."

It is all about coming and going like the wind.

Whether it was Wang Baobao back in the day or Nailibuha later on.

Although the generals all thought in terms of the old ancestral strategy: when the enemy advances, we retreat.

Yet the steppe cavalry under their command, whose legs had been softened by the allure of a splendid empire, were long no longer the force that once roamed freely across the world.

Therefore, whether attacking or defending.

When facing the Great Ming, the steppe cavalry almost constantly displayed a certain rigidity.