Chapter 145: Total Enemy Killed: 7,000!!!

Undoubtedly!

After this battle, once Zhentangcheng falls, Zhu Ying will undoubtedly become the undisputed foremost contributor to the northern expedition.

Securing this illustrious military merit lays a solid foundation for Zhu Ying to receive imperial rewards after the northern expedition achieves total victory.

Moreover, this is merely the first battle of the northern campaign; as the army continues to push deeper into Northern Yuan territory, it is clear that Zhu Ying will have many more outstanding opportunities to earn great merit in the future.

Time slipped away quietly!

The fighting within Zhentangcheng had already reached a feverish, intense stage.

The Ming army surged like an unstoppable flood, each soldier charging forward with a death-defying resolve, fighting desperately and slaughtering enemies mercilessly.

The Yuan army’s resistance was equally fierce, their eyes filled with defiance and struggle.

Clearly, after their devastating defeat in Liaodong, the Yuan high command had intensified supervision over their troops; patrol units armed with sharp blades roamed behind the lines, executing any soldier who showed even a hint of retreat.

Only through such brutal measures had the army’s collapsing morale been barely stabilized.

The governor’s mansion of Zhentangcheng now exuded a suffocatingly heavy atmosphere.

Inside the main hall of the mansion.

“Report!”

A Yuan general rushed into the hall, pale and stumbling, fell to his knees with a thud, and cried out in a trembling voice: “Your Highness, the Ming forces have breached the city! General Mahawu is organizing a desperate defense, but the Ming assault is too fierce—I fear Zhentangcheng cannot hold!”

Seated on the main throne sat Di Baonu, the second prince of the Northern Yuan and son of the Northern Yuan emperor.

He wore an ornate Northern Yuan prince’s robe, radiating nobility.

Yet now his face was grim, filled with shock and disbelief.

Along the border with Ming, over two hundred thousand troops were stationed—elite forces personally loyal to the Northern Yuan emperor, their command firmly held by the imperial family.

Ever since the Northern Yuan lost the Central Plains, their control over the various tribes had collapsed like a toppled tower, plummeting rapidly.

Thus, the Northern Yuan emperor assigned his two sons to each command one hundred thousand troops, guarding key border strongholds.

One was Di Baonu; the other was the third prince, Elbek.

As for the eldest son, the Northern Yuan crown prince, he remained at the new capital, safeguarding the empire’s core.

“How could this happen so fast?”

Di Baonu’s voice rose sharply; he leapt to his feet, gripping the armrests tightly, staring at his subordinate: “Weren’t the gates sealed shut? How could they be breached so quickly? How did the Ming manage this?”

The reinforcement of Zhentangcheng’s walls and defenses, and the imperial order to seal the gates upon learning of Ming intentions—all these tasks were personally overseen by Di Baonu.

Under his strict supervision, the gates were completely bricked and mortared shut, and an immensely thick wall was erected directly before them.

In his view, such a fortress could withstand even hundreds of cannons firing simultaneously without being easily breached.

Yet now, this seemingly impregnable defense had been broken?

And not after ten days or even half a month—merely less than half a day, and the city was already on the brink of collapse.

“Your Highness, it was Zhu Ying, commander of the Danning border troops, who broke through the gates.”

The Yuan general’s voice trembled further, sweat pouring down his forehead; he continued: “He’s a monster—the gates and the barricaded wall were both shattered by him alone.”

“Now, with a vast Ming force under his command pouring into the city, we cannot stop them.”

“General Mahawu orders Your Highness to retreat immediately—he will lead the outer city troops in a final stand against the Ming.”

“Moreover, General Mahawu specifically warned: Zhu Ying cannot be judged by ordinary standards.”

“In other cities, besides reinforcing defenses, you must prepare special weapons targeting Zhu Ying.”

“Only by eliminating Zhu Ying can our Great Yuan withstand the Ming offensive—no city can hold against his assault.”

“General Mahawu...”

Di Baonu’s face twisted in deep conflict; he slowly sank back into his chair, his expression grave.

He knew full well that forcing Mahawu into such desperation was unprecedented.

Mahawu was the most trusted and capable general under Di Baonu’s command in Zhentangcheng; seeing him in this state filled Di Baonu with helplessness and sorrow.

“Your Highness, there’s no time to hesitate!”

Another Yuan general, seeing Di Baonu still wavering, cried anxiously: “The city gate is breached—more and more Ming troops are pouring in.”

“If we delay, we may lose even the chance to retreat.”

“General Mahawu said: retreat to Zhenhuacheng, fortify its defenses, and await our reinforcements.”

Hearing this,

Di Baonu fell into deep thought.

Yet the thunderous, deafening cries of battle echoing through the city made his body tense.

After gritting his teeth and struggling for a moment, he shouted: “Order: all troops except those under General Mahawu, follow me in retreat!”

At this moment,

Di Baonu’s heart was filled with helplessness and resentment—he had meticulously planned for Zhentangcheng to hold for at least half a month against the Ming assault, retreating only when the breach became undeniable.

Yet in a single day, the Ming’s furious, storm-like assault had shattered his entire defense strategy.

At the junction between Zhentangcheng’s inner and outer city, several thousand Yuan shield troops stood in perfect formation, their shields locked together, forming an unbreakable iron wall.

Within the protection of the shield line,

a Yuan officer hurried over, nearly running to Mahawu’s side, bowing low and whispering urgently: “General, Prince Di Baonu has withdrawn the forty thousand troops stationed in the inner city.”

“Good.”

Mahawu’s face showed a flicker of relief; he tilted his head upward, gazing into the distance as if he could see through the buildings the retreating troops.

Then,

he spoke slowly, voice low and resolute: “Our Great Yuan expended immense manpower and resources to build ten fortified cities along this border, precisely to guard against Ming barbarians—to ensure we could advance or retreat as needed.”

“Now I see: the Emperor truly had foresight.”

“Without these cities, our Great Yuan could never have stopped the Ming—we’d have been forced to retreat to the northern steppes.”

“On the very first day of battle, the Ming have breached our city.”

The nearby Yuan officer’s face burned with shame; he clenched his fists, voice trembling with anger and resentment: “How could the Ming have grown so powerful?”

“Once, these barbarians knelt before our Great Yuan—yet now...”

Hearing this,

one could tell.

Perhaps many Yuan still clung to the delusion of their former glory, when the Yuan Dynasty ruled all under heaven.

“Enough!”

Mahawu’s expression hardened; a look of final resolve flashed in his eyes as he roared: “Our Great Yuan warriors once roamed the world, conquering all four directions—how could we lose to these barbarians?”

“Order: all troops not yet engaged in combat, retreat two streets back.”

“All archers, take position on rooftops and secure advantageous terrain.”

“All cannons and ballistae, prepare immediately—ensure absolute readiness.”

“This battle—we fight to the death, annihilating as many Ming invaders as possible.”

“I, Mahawu, will stand with every warrior—life or death, together!”

His words ended.

“We obey your command!”

The surrounding Yuan officers shouted in unison, their voices echoing across the bloody battlefield.

After issuing his orders, Mahawu’s eyes hardened with final resolve; he lowered his head and whispered inwardly: “Your Majesty, you once showed mercy to my tribe—today, I repay you with my life.”

“After this battle, after my death, the fate of the Great Yuan no longer concerns me.”

At this moment,

Mahawu’s thoughts turned to his son back in the tribe—but now, he could only bury that longing deep within his heart; for the Great Yuan, for his tribe, he had no other choice.

Within Zhentangcheng, flames roared, smoke choked the air, turning the city into a living hell.

The air reeked of thick, acrid blood, mingled with burning wood and gunpowder, nauseating and suffocating.

Zhu Ying rode Wufeng, leading from the front, transformed into an unstoppable god of slaughter, driving his troops in relentless carnage.

“Killed a Northern Yuan soldier: +1 Speed, +10 days lifespan.”

“Killed a Northern Yuan Garrison Commander: +30 to all stats, +60 days lifespan, reward: Common Treasure Chest.”

“Killed a Northern Yuan Myriarch: +50 to all stats, +100 days lifespan, reward: Tier-One Treasure Chest.”

“Killed a Northern Yuan soldier...”

As Zhu Ying pressed forward, system prompts echoed incessantly in his mind.

It was an invisible form of motivation.

“Furious Blade Dance!”

Seeing the Yuan troops before him shattered and fleeing like birds startled by arrows, Zhu Ying’s eyes hardened; he raised his battle blade high, its edge gleaming coldly, then slashed down with a thunderous roar.

In an instant,

his blade became a living dragon, whirling wildly; dazzling, solid-looking blade shadows materialized in the air.

Each blade shadow fell, and surrounding Yuan soldiers screamed and collapsed like lambs slaughtered.

Where the blade’s light flashed, blood sprayed—whole groups of Yuan troops died, falling into pools of ink-dark crimson.

Behind Zhu Ying, his personal guards followed closely, clad in black armor, blades gleaming coldly, every movement fluid and lethal.

The Danning cavalry surged like a flood, hooves thundering, spears swinging—wherever they went, Yuan troops broke and fled.

“General!”

Liu Lei, slashing through enemies, shouted to Zhu Ying, his face splattered with blood, voice hoarse with excitement: “The Yuan troops in the city seem to be retreating—they’re no longer fighting with the same desperate resistance!”

“Don’t overthink it!”

Zhu Ying’s gaze was calm as he replied loudly, his voice cutting clearly through the chaotic battlefield.

“Press forward and kill! The main force must not cluster together—use the Garrison Commander battalions as the core, scatter and strike hard; first take the outer city.”

“The archer units have entered the city—assign one archer company to each Garrison Commander cavalry battalion to lead the advance.”

“Chen Heng, Zhang Wu—did you hear that?”

“We obey the General’s order!”

Hearing this, Chen Heng and Zhang Wu behind him shouted back immediately.

They exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with fearless resolve.

Then, swiftly following Zhu Ying’s command, they began organizing their troops.

They shouted across the battlefield, directing soldiers to re-form ranks, leading with the Garrison Commander battalions as they charged forward relentlessly.

Clearly.

Zhu Ying had endured many siege battles; he understood this situation perfectly.

The Yuan troops no longer rushed forward in suicidal charges—that meant their commander had gathered fresh reinforcements behind the lines and was reorganizing defenses.

Soon, they would face an even more brutal, bloody close-quarters fight.

“The Yuan commander holding this city is indeed capable.”

Zhu Ying stared at the thinning Yuan ranks ahead, thinking to himself: “Even in defeat, they can still reorganize.”

“In Liaodong, only Naha’chu could have done this—no one else could.”

For this battle’s breach of the city, especially the first major victory of the northern campaign, Zhu Ying was determined to claim it!

This battle.

The first merit was already within his grasp.

“Brothers, follow me and kill!”

Zhu Ying roared, spurring Wufeng forward, leading the charge as he kept slaughtering without pause.

Catching up to the fleeing Yuan troops, he swung his battle blade, flashing blades slicing wildly in lethal arcs.

“Slain a Northern Yuan soldier—gained 1 point of inner qi, gained 15 days of lifespan.”

“Slain a Northern Yuan soldier…”

The system prompts echoed constantly in Zhu Ying’s mind.

As time passed, nearly two hours had gone by.

Most of the outer city had been seized by Zhu Ying’s forces.

Throughout Zhenxiacheng, mountains of corpses, streets piled high with dead—both Ming and Yuan—blood pooled into streams, trickling slowly down the street slopes, staining the ground dark red.

The city’s civilians trembled in fear, huddled in rooms, clutching their ears with shaking hands, trying to block out the terrifying cries of battle.

Their eyes brimmed with terror and despair; they dared not make a sound, afraid of drawing the soldiers’ murderous attention.

“Slain a Northern Yuan soldier—gained 1 point of speed, gained 10 days of lifespan.”

“Total kills reached 7,000—reward: one Tier-I treasure chest.”

As Zhu Ying slew the next Yuan soldier before him, the system prompt sounded again.

“Seven thousand.” Zhu Ying’s heart surged with excitement; a grin of triumph spread across his face: “Good—this time I’ve accumulated quite a few treasure chests.”

At this moment.

Most of the Yuan troops in the outer city had been wiped out; corpses lay everywhere, twisted limbs, faces frozen in final terror and resentment.

Blood flowed like rivers, the thick stench of blood choking the air.

Isolated Yuan soldiers were swiftly cut down by Zhu Ying’s troops, with no mercy shown.

“General, we’ve cleared all of this section of the outer city.”

Chen Heng and Zhang Wu approached Zhu Ying and reported respectfully.

Both had fought relentlessly; their armor was caked in blood—some dried to dark red, some still dripping, pooling into small puddles beneath their feet.

“From now on, infantry leads, cavalry follows.”

Zhu Ying’s expression turned grave as he scanned the officers around him.

“The Yuan troops must be entrenched ahead, and archers must be positioned on rooftops.”

“Make sure the men proceed with extreme caution.”

As he finished speaking,

Several officers immediately replied: “We obey the General’s order.”

Then,

Zhu Ying dismounted with swift, fluid motion.

He hung his blood-splattered tiger-head greatsword across Wufeng’s back, drew his Seven-Star Precious Blade from his waist, gripped his carved bow in hand, and strapped a quiver of arrows to his back.

Seeing this, his personal guards also dismounted without hesitation, drawing their swords and falling in behind their General.

“All soldiers—infantry leads, cavalry follows—follow me and kill!”

Zhu Ying roared, his voice booming like a bronze bell, echoing through the streets.

As usual,

He led from the front.

He charged ahead into the unknown danger.

“We swear to follow the General to death!” Tens of thousands of soldiers roared in unison, their cry shaking the heavens, like thunder rolling through the city.

They surged after Zhu Ying, with the Garrison Commander battalions as the core, archers in front, bows drawn, eyes focused, ready to loose lethal arrows at any moment.

Shield troops and spear formations followed behind, shields locked tight, spears like a forest, advancing in disciplined order.

Zhu Ying felt no panic.

With his current stats, even without armor, ordinary weapons could barely scratch his skin.

He looked ahead—the street was wide open, deathly silent, radiating an eerie atmosphere.

Doors and windows of buildings on both sides were tightly shut, no sign of life—like silent tombs.

Yet with one glance, he sensed the boundless killing intent hidden in the shadows.

Especially Zhu Ying—he could keenly sense the many dangers lying in wait ahead.

The Yuan troops were all concealed, holding their breath, gripping their weapons, waiting for the Ming army to walk into the trap.

When Zhu Ying advanced forty paces, he suddenly halted.

Then,

He raised his blade sharply, his expression cold and stern, and shouted: “Archers!”

Around him, nearly twenty thousand Danning archers were spread out, ready and waiting.

At Zhu Ying’s command, a unified roar echoed: “Kill! Kill! Kill!”

Each archer drew his bow, muscles taut, pulling the string to its limit, angling the arrows upward.

The next instant, ten thousand arrows shot forth, screaming toward the seemingly empty, silent street.

The arrow rain pierced the air with a dense hissing sound, as if countless blades cut through the wind.

Countless arrows flew like silver meteors, carrying death’s breath, piercing straight through the buildings.

Perhaps these arrows had already struck civilians.

But war is always cruel—there is no absolute right or wrong.

In this age, once war begins, civilian safety is rarely a priority.

As the arrow rain fell, the once-silent street erupted in agonized screams and pitiful wails.

The sounds were chilling.

Clearly, they came from the Yuan troops hidden in the shadows.

“Keep firing arrows—kill every Tartar!”

Zhu Ying roared, his voice radiating undeniable authority.

Though his spiritual power could not yet fully extend outward, his sense of killing intent was razor-sharp.

Tens of thousands of killing signals converged ahead—he sensed them all clearly.

The Yuan troops’ ambush was nothing but a joke to him.

Moreover, high above, the golden eagle circled, its sharp eyes surveying the entire city, seeing every Yuan ambush position with perfect clarity.

Clearly, the Yuan commander planned to lure Zhu Ying’s army into the trap, then unleash a storm of arrows—when the Ming troops would suffer devastating losses.

But they had utterly underestimated Zhu Ying.

At this very moment, the Ming archers’ range surpassed the Yuan’s.

As the arrow rain fell, it slaughtered countless hidden Yuan soldiers; the street erupted into chaos—screams, clattering weapons, all intertwined.

“Bad! The Ming have found our position, General!” A Yuan officer’s face turned ashen with terror, his body trembling as he stared at Mahawu.

“How did they know exactly where we were hiding?”

Mahawu frowned deeply, his face etched with shock and confusion.

In his mind,

He tried to find out how the Ming had discovered their ambush positions.

Under his meticulous, tightly planned layout, nearly thirty thousand Yuan troops had hidden perfectly—concealed on rooftops, behind collapsed ruins, in every alleyway.

He had laid a vast net, like heaven’s trap, waiting for the Ming to walk in blindly—then snap it shut and annihilate them instantly.

Yet now,

Zhu Ying had abruptly halted his advance—and unleashed a storm of arrows.

A dense rain of arrows, like a locust swarm sweeping across the land, poured down upon the Yuan army’s hiding spots—the sudden strike caught them off guard.

It completely stunned Mahawu, and left many Yuan soldiers utterly bewildered.

“General, what do we do?”

One of the Yuan generals looked panicked, his voice trembling—he was clearly terrified by this unexpected turn and urgently sought Mahawu’s orders.

“Hold position. Shield troops forward. Archers on alert.”

Mahawu clenched his teeth and forced a calm tone.

His gaze swept the surroundings, searching for even a shred of reassurance.

“This must be coincidence. Our position is too well concealed to have been discovered.”

Mahawu’s voice carried a hint of self-deception, as if the Ming army had merely stumbled upon them by accident.

But just then—

Zhu Ying moved again.

Zhu Ying wore a cold sneer, one laced with mockery at the Yuan army’s ignorance.

Through the golden eagle’s aerial view, he had seen the Yuan troops still holding their ground, hidden everywhere.

“Still holding back? Thinking it’s just coincidence?”

Zhu Ying sneered and shouted again to the archers behind him: “Advance ten paces, keep firing!”

As Zhu Ying’s order rang out,

the Ming archers moved forward swiftly and in perfect order, ten paces.

Each one’s expression was focused, their longbows drawn taut as full moons, strings straining.

Then, wave after wave of arrows rained down upon the Yuan army’s hiding places—each arrow brimming with lethal intent, slicing through the sky with piercing whistles.

…

(End of Chapter)