Chapter 761: Century's Prelude

Winter snow just begins to melt, the black soil turns to slurry.

On the walls of Brocade Prefecture City, the 'Ming' character banner snaps in the biting cold wind, its edges already showing traces of smoke and fire.

Commander Zu Dashou stands at the crenel with hand on sword, his eye sockets deep-set.

He has not removed his armor for three days.

Ten li outside the city, the former farmland and villages have become a hideous azure‑blue scar.

Twisted, neither‑tree‑nor‑tree black branches thrust from the frozen soil, their tips bearing sticky, faintly glowing sacs.

The ground is covered with a half‑chi‑thick fungal carpet that writhes slowly like a living creature.

From time to time, fist‑sized mutant insects burrow out of the fungal carpet's holes, then burrow back in.

Farther off, the Qing army's camps stretch continuously, their azure‑blue braziers burning day and night.

That is not real fire, but a halo of condensed dark‑energy light, illuminating the strange birds circling above the camp—vulture‑shaped yet bearing two pairs of fleshy wings.

This is the seventh time.

Vice‑Commander Wu Sangui's young voice hoarse with restrained strain, he pointed outward from the city wall.

There, the freshly splashed lime slurry mixed with strange‑iron powder was reacting violently with the fungal carpet trying to climb up.

Amid the hissing sound, pungent white smoke rose.

The fungal carpet retreated, but soon new hyphae spread from afar, and the cycle repeated.

This damned thing—cannot be killed, cannot be burned out.

Wu Sangui gritted his teeth.

"Yesterday I sent suicide squads out of the city to burn three li with fire oil; after one night, it had grown back two li!"

Zu Dashou remained silent.

His gaze swept over the city wall.

The brick surface was covered with fingernail‑sized azure‑blue corrosion marks.

These were traces of acid sprayed by the Qing army's "Spitters" at long range.

Although artisans constantly patched with strange‑iron mortar, the corrosion continued to expand at a slow pace.

On the wall stood a Hongwu‑pattern cannon, its barrel wrapped with hemp rope soaked in strange‑iron water.

The muzzle was aimed at the distant camp, yet it had never been fired.

Shells are precious; strange‑iron is even more precious.

The Qing army's offensive has never been a neat formation charge.

But rather endless harassment, pollution, and attrition.

"Report—!"

The messenger ran up to the wall and knelt on one knee.

"General! Thirty li to the northwest, the Li Family Village beacon smoke!"

Zu Dashou and Wu Sangui turned their heads at the same time.

On the northwestern horizon, three straight plumes of black smoke rose, especially stark against the gray‑white sky.

Three smokes launched together signal the highest alert—a major enemy assault.

"They're here."

Zu Dashou drew a deep breath; the icy air stabbed into his lungs.

"Beat the drums, prepare for battle."

"All mosquito‑repellent lamps, run at full power!"

"Artillerymen in position, await my orders!"

Heaven‑responding, Martial Flourishing Hall.

Before the vast Bei Jing sand table, Zhu Yuanzhang (Zhu Yue) was conferring with Xu Da, Liu Ji, and others.

On the sand table, the position of Brocade Prefecture City bore a small flag already blackened by smoke.

"The Qing army's main force has finally moved."

Xu Da held a long pole, pointing to the northwest of Brocade Prefecture City.

"Scouts report that Hong Taiji personally leads the Plain Yellow and Border Yellow banners' elite, driving over two thousand head of various mutant beasts as the vanguard, straight for the Li Family Village stronghold."

"The stronghold's garrison numbers only three hundred; even with allied‑garrison reinforcements, it could not hold long."

Liu Ji added.

"This is a yang stratagem. If Li Family Village falls, the Brocade Prefecture northwest barrier will be flung open, allowing the Qing army to march south along the Daughter River, severing the link between Brocade Prefecture and Tranquil Far."

"Zu Dashou must be rescued. Once he leaves the city for field battle……"

Liu Ji shook his head.

"Exactly what the Qing army wants."

Zhu Yuanzhang stared at the sand table, his finger unconsciously tapping the table edge.

His visage remained that of a man in his thirties at peak condition, yet deep in his eyes lay a gravity and anxiety far beyond his years.

Time.

He possesses time, but the Great Ming does not.

"Li Family Village, must not be lost."

He spoke, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable force.

"But Zu Dashou, too, must not leave the city."

Xu Da frowned.

"Your Majesty, if we do not rescue them, the troops' morale will……"

Who said not to save?

Zhu Yuanzhang lifted his eyes.

Order the Commander of Shanhai Pass, Man Gui: mobilize our three thousand cavalry, equip with double horses, all personnel carry Fire Crow Arrows and strange-iron incendiary shells, and advance swiftly in light gear!

Do not engage battle; only harass the rear of the Qing troops and the mutant beast herds with rockets on the outskirts!

Tell Man Gui, his mission is not to annihilate the enemy, but to create chaos and buy time!

Also order the Ningyuan garrison to detach a unit of the Pure Dust Camp, carry the newly trial-produced Vibration Wave Generator, go by sea, and rush to reinforce Jinzhou!

He spoke extremely fast, his orders clear.

The Investigation of Things Institute reports that the second-generation Miasma-Dispelling Lamp can now be miniaturized for transport by carriage, and it has a significant inhibitory effect on fungal-mat contamination.

Order them to move all twenty units in storage to Jinzhou!

Tell Zu Dashou, hold it for me!

As long as the city stands, the people stand. If the city falls...

Zhu Yuanzhang paused, a cold light flashing in his eyes.

Then let Nurhaci fill it with a hundred thousand lives!

Yes!

Xu Da stood sternly, quickly noted the order, turned and left the hall to make arrangements.

Liu Ji, however, did not move.

He waited until only the ruler and his subject remained in the hall, then spoke softly.

Your Majesty, such mobilization will inevitably leave other sections of the Liaodong defense line empty. If the Qing forces dispatch another detachment...

They will.

Zhu Yuanzhang walked back to the desk and unfolded a secret report.

In the Jizhen and Xuanfu directions, small-scale infiltration incidents have increased by forty percent recently. The forces of Amin and Daisan have unclear movements.

What Nurhaci wants is for me to be rushing around putting out fires, exhausted from running.

So——

He picked up his pen and swiftly wrote on a blank imperial edict.

Order the Ministry of War to immediately issue directives to the garrisons of Zhili, Shandong, and Henan, following Plan No. 3, to activate the All-People Fortress Defense.

Males aged fifteen to fifty must, during farming off-seasons, participate in drills, becoming familiar with beacon signals, simple trap making, and... identifying the weaknesses of mutant beasts.

Storehouses in each prefecture, subprefecture, and county shall distribute, according to population proportion, lime mixed with strange-iron powder, strong liquor, fire oil, and other defensive materials.

Liu Ji drew a slight breath.

Your Majesty, once this order is issued, the populace will surely resent it, and it will be costly...

Resentment is better than a lost nation.

Zhu Yuanzhang cut him off, his pen not stopping.

Cost is better than land being polluted and the people twisted into monsters.

Liu Ji, we are not facing an ordinary enemy state.

This is a plague. A plague aimed at the land, the living beings, and even the foundations of civilization!

To treat a plague, we need a potent remedy! We need the strength of the whole nation!

He set down his pen and pushed the edict toward Liu Ji.

Go handle it.

Tell the people, this is not a corvée levied by the court, but a battle for survival!

The demonic mist on the northern border will not stop at Jinzhou; if it spreads here, nobody will survive!

Liu Ji received the edict, feeling it as heavy as a thousand jin.

He gave a deep bow and retreated from the hall.

The hall returned to silence.

Zhu Yuanzhang (Zhu Yue) stood alone before the vast map of Bei Jing, his gaze slowly sweeping from Jinzhou across all of Liaodong, then falling back on Ying Tian.

His finger unconsciously traced several names: Xu Da, Chang Yuchun, Liu Ji, Tang He, Li Shanzhang... and even the one mentioned in the just-received battle report, the one guarding the Jinzhou front line, Wu Sangui.

A faint sense of unease once again flitted through his heart.

Too concentrated.

These generals and ministers, who ought to have shone in different eras, have now been as if snatched by an invisible hand and scattered all at this tumultuous juncture.

He recalled the warning from the Eastern Light Curtain—'History Keepers.'

Is this the 'script' being maintained? A tangled mess, forcibly stitched together?

Or is it precisely because we want to tear up the script that these 'variables' have arisen, gathering here?

His gaze fell upon the three characters 'Wu Sangui'.

In the depths of his memory, an image of a switch being turned on flashed and vanished.

But immediately, a clearer image overlaid—

It was the young man in the battle report, his face covered in dust, standing on the Jinzhou city wall, directing soldiers to smear strange-iron lime slurry.

It was the record in the secret files, that his paternal clan of dozens perished utterly from yuan-energy corrosion when Liaoyang fell.

This Wu Sangui is not that Wu Sangui.

Zhu Yuanzhang muttered to himself.

The times have changed, the enemy has changed, and people's hearts... will also change.

He cannot, because of a certain possibility that has not yet happened in his memory, destroy a commander before him who dares to fight and is capable of fighting.

But he will be watching.

They will do so through institutions, through personnel, by firmly binding the fate of the entire Ming to the great cause of resisting the Qing, so that everyone understands——

To betray the Ming is to betray all of human civilization.

That is not only a dead end, but also a disgrace from which one can never be reborn.

Outside the hall, Liu Ji strode quickly toward the Secretariat, his heart still unsettled.

"All‑people defend the fort"…… Your Majesty intends to turn the entire northern region into a massive military camp.

He couldn't help but recall the time he first met His Majesty.

At that time His Majesty was merely the leader of a small refugee army, yet he singled me out from among the few with unerring precision and entrusted me with the role of chief strategist.

And Xu Da, Chang Yuchun, Tang He…… these heroes who now uphold half of the Ming's realm were all singled out by His Majesty in their obscurity.

Even Wu Sangui, a scion of a military family far away in Jinzhou, barely twenty, His Majesty personally inquired about his promotion and exceptionally appointed him as deputy commander.

"Your Majesty's ability to discern and employ people is unparalleled in history."

Liu Ji could only sigh in this way, attributing it to "the Mandate of Heaven" and "a heroic sovereign possessing unique insight."

He never imagined that behind this lay a soul's complex‑laden "reunion" with the brilliant stars of history's long river.

Liaodong, outside Li Family Village.

A gloomy blue tide of mutated beasts washed over the hills like sewage.

At the forefront were hundreds of boar‑shaped creatures clad in bone plates, spewing acid—the "Tramplers."

The Hongwu‑style cannons on the garrison wall roared.

Solid iron balls slammed into the beast horde, carving a bloody passage.

But more mutated beasts surged forward.

The fort's walls began to tremble.

"Light it! Throw!"

The garrison officer bellowed.

Fire‑soaked bundles of wood were ignited and shoved down the wall.

The flames temporarily halted the assault.

But everyone saw that the fire burned across the fungal mat at a speed thirty percent slower than yesterday.

The fungal mat was adapting.

Or rather, the Qing forces were adjusting the nature of the polluted field.

"Reinforcements… how much longer?"

The garrison officer asked in a hoarse voice.

No one answered.

Just then, urgent horse hooves came from the northeast, along with a strange, keening whine like countless metal sheets vibrating.

A detachment of black cavalry sliced into the battlefield's edge like a blade.

They did not charge the main beast force; instead they swept past at high speed, firing volleys of arrows whose tails trailed flames at the fungal mat behind the beasts.

The oil tanks exploded, igniting the fungal mat.

More importantly, a peculiar device on several wagons at the heart of the cavalry emitted a low hum.

An intangible ripple spread outward.

Where it passed, the fungal mat's writhing noticeably slowed, even beginning to wither in patches.

The mutant beast horde fell into brief confusion.

"It's the Ningyuan 'Purification Dust' unit! They've brought new gear!"

Cheers erupted on the city wall.

But the cheers were abruptly cut short.

In the distant Qing camp, a low, horn‑like call sounded.

The gloomy blue halo suddenly intensified.

Deep underground came a rumbling tremor.

On the far horizon, something huge was breaking through the earth.

On the walls of Jinzhou, Zu Dashou lowered his far‑seeing telescope.

His hand was steady, but the chill in his heart was sharper than the Liaodong spring wind.

"Issue the order."

He said to Wu Sangui behind him.

"From today onward, Jinzhou's rations are cut by twenty percent, and the quotas for arrows, gunpowder, and strange‑iron powder are reduced by thirty percent."

"All saved supplies go into the storehouse."

"We must prepare…… for a possible year‑long siege."

Wu Sangui's young face tightened.

He looked northward, where the gloomy blue light was gathering and rising at the junction of heaven and earth.

It seemed as if a colossal beast was slowly opening its eyes.

"And after one year?"

He asked softly.

Zu Dashou gave no answer.

He merely patted the young deputy commander on the shoulder, then turned and walked toward the watchtower.

His back stood straight as a spear.

Some questions need no answer.

Because the answer lies only in blood and fire.

The candlelight in Wuying Hall burned bright until deep into the night.

Zhu Yuanzhang (Zhu Yue) finally finished reviewing the last memorial.

He rose and walked to the white marble railing outside the hall.

The lights of Nanjing spread beneath his feet, and farther away lay the slumbering mountains and rivers for ten thousand li.

He knew that this present tranquility was merely an illusion before the storm.

The century-long race has already begun.

And the first blood-red curtain is now slowly drawing open upon the black soil of Liaodong.