Chapter 146: Improvising on the Spot

In Wenhua Hall, Chongzhen was frowning deeply at the maps of Jingxiang and Shaanxi, occasionally tracing his finger along the map, occasionally marking a few spots with his vermilion brush—quite the bearing of a commander at the front.

At that moment, Cao Huachun stumbled in, his voice choked with tears: "Your Majesty, this old servant has failed you—something terrible has happened..."

"Xiangyang has fallen?" The moment Chongzhen heard this, his head buzzed, and he felt the world spinning around him.

Cao Huachun and Wang Cheng'en hurried forward to support him, and Cao Huachun quickly said: "Your Majesty, Xiangyang has not fallen—it is the Yongwei Camp that has mutinied!"

"Oh, as long as Xiangyang hasn't fallen, that's fine." Chongzhen recovered at once upon hearing this, and only after drinking a sip of tea handed over by Wang Cheng'en did he let out a sigh of relief.

A moment later, he suddenly snapped back to reality, startled, and exclaimed in shock: "What? The Yongwei Camp has mutinied?"

Cao Huachun said tearfully: "The garrison at Chengtian Gate reports urgently that over ten thousand troops of the Yongwei Camp have already entered Chengtian Gate, surrounded the offices of the Censorate, and even the area before Meridian Gate is packed with fully armed iron-armored soldiers!"

"What do they intend to do? Force the throne on the Crown Prince's behalf?" Chongzhen roared. This was the second time he had experienced the feeling of being humiliated—anger, hatred, and terror all surged into his heart at once.

Chongzhen suddenly fell into a state of helplessness and powerlessness, shocked and furious and worried all at once. What shocked him was that he had never expected this unfilial son to hold such high prestige among the military—the Yongwei Camp, the personal army of the Son of Heaven, had mutinied in full force for his sake.

He thought back to the events of seven years ago—the same city of Beijing, someone had humiliated him the same way. After Yuan Chonghuan was arrested, his subordinate general Zu Dashou led the Liaodong army away in a huff, showing not the slightest regard for Beijing, which was surrounded by Hong Taiji.

"And that unfilial son? Is he so eager to take the throne?" Chongzhen said hatefully, feeling that he had raised an ungrateful wolf all these years!

Wang Cheng'en reminded him in a low voice: "Your Majesty, His Highness is still confined to Zhongcui Palace and has not left the palace."

"The Crown Prince is still in the palace?" Chongzhen's restless heart paused, then slowly calmed down.

Within the magnificent hall, the young emperor paced back and forth anxiously. After a long while, he finally said slowly: "Summon the Crown Prince."

In Zhongcui Palace, Zhu Cilang received a carrier pigeon message from Li Tingbiao. This was a special means of communication reserved for extraordinary circumstances; ordinarily it was not used, as dedicated messengers handled regular contact.

The moment Zhu Cilang saw the carrier pigeon message from Li Tingbiao, he knew something major had happened. When he opened the note, he was utterly stunned, and he angrily said: "That brainless Huang Degong, what the hell are you in such a hurry for!"

Mutiny was hardly uncommon in the Great Ming, but that was merely local soldiers rioting over unpaid wages, which the higher-ups would directly suppress and settle. Ten thousand men of the Yongwei Camp mutinying in the capital—that was not something easy to suppress.

Zhu Cilang was not stupid enough to think that Huang Degong and Sun Yingyuan would come to force the throne and drape him, the Crown Prince, in the yellow robe for a forced ascension—that was too absurd.

Not to mention that the two sides had never coordinated or given any prior hint—even if they had the intention, Zhu Cilang could not usurp the throne now. In the current situation of the Great Ming, forcing the throne and usurping would be no different from pushing the Great Ming into the abyss and setting himself on fire.

Zhu Cilang was no greenhorn who had only transmigrated a few days ago. He had grown up in the Great Ming for several years and understood this environment thoroughly—feudal ethics ran deep in people's hearts, far more terrifying than one might imagine.

Even if he forced the throne and became emperor now, what then? He could control the capital and slaughter all the disobedient officials within it—but would the local officials, gentry, and armies recognize him as a filial emperor who had usurped the throne?

Not to mention that Li Zicheng and Zhang Xianzhong would laugh in their sleep—the warlords holding troops in various regions would likely imitate Cao Cao, leading their armies into the capital under the banner of coming to the emperor's aid. The nine border garrisons were so close, and not far away were Shandong Regional Commander Liu Zeqing and Governor-General of the Three Border Regions Hong Chengchou.

In the final years of a dynasty, if someone in the court usurped the throne, that was something many regional magnates would be delighted to see. Even if they did not openly rebel, they would treat the court's decrees like toilet paper and continue hoarding troops to await the greater tide.

After all, with real strength, everyone wanted to emulate Li Yuan and Zhao Kuangyin. There were plenty of successful usurpations in history—Wang Mang, Cao Cao (Cao Pi), Sima Yi (Sima Yan), Gao Huan (Gao Yang), Yuwen Tai (Yuwen Jue), Xiao Daocheng, Chen Baxian, Yang Jian, Li Yuan, Zhao Kuangyin, and so on.

If Zhu Cilang had a hundred thousand troops like the Yongwei Camp in hand, he could gamble on it—ruling by military force, beating down anyone who refused to submit until they submitted.

The Yongwei Camp's current twenty thousand men could only hold one corner; taken out, they could not possibly hold the entire nation. The troops were too few, and the gentry supporting him from behind were not many either. Usurping now would be completely squandering a good hand.

What Zhu Cilang needed to do now was figure out how to preserve the Yongwei Camp and protect Huang Degong and Sun Yingyuan. If that proved impossible, he could only stand with the Yongwei Camp and stir up heaven and earth, sending heads rolling.

Following the eunuch bearing the imperial edict to Wenhua Hall, Zhu Cilang spent the journey thinking about how to handle what came next.

The moment he entered Wenhua Hall and was about to perform the ritual of greeting, he heard Chongzhen point at him and rage: "Unfilial son, are you trying to force the throne?"

"What does Your Majesty mean by this?" Zhu Cilang pretended not to know, asking back with an innocent look.

Chongzhen had been watching Zhu Cilang's expression closely since he entered, yet after observing for a long while with his keen eyes, all he found on Zhu Cilang's face was innocence and surprise—nothing else.

"Your Yongwei Camp has gathered before Chengtian Gate and Meridian Gate, surrounded the Censorate, and even put Tang Shiji, one of the Seven Ministers, into a coffin—is that not forcing the throne?" Chongzhen said coldly, his words still carrying great anger.

Zhu Cilang's face seemed to bear a giant question mark: "Forcing the throne? Has the Yongwei Camp ever attacked the Forbidden City?"

Seeing Chongzhen silent, Cao Huachun spoke up: "No, they have not."

Zhu Cilang let out a light breath and said: "Then how can you speak of forcing the throne? Besides, your son only holds command authority, not deployment authority, and I have been confined to Zhongcui Palace—how could I possibly order the Yongwei Camp?"

Chongzhen felt that made sense upon hearing it—perhaps this really had nothing to do with the Crown Prince? Then what was the Yongwei Camp's mutiny about?

Zhu Cilang raised the core question: "Military mutinies have causes. Why did the Yongwei Camp mutiny? And why surround the Censorate?"

Cao Huachun, ever the helpful ally, said: "Perhaps it was because censors like Tang Shiji spoke in the great hall of erasing the achievements of the Yongwei Camp's soldiers."

Zhu Cilang nodded, let out a sigh, and put on an expression of profound grief, saying: "Soldiers take honor in military merit. Tang Shiji spouted nonsense in the hall. When I pretended to kill him that day, it was to make him shut up and protect him, to keep disaster from coming out of his mouth. I never thought it would still come to this. Alas, it is all my fault."

Chongzhen and Wang Cheng'en both stared at Zhu Cilang in astonishment. That day had not seemed like that at all—you chased the man all the way to the Golden Water Bridge. If the Embroidered Uniform Guard had not stopped you, you probably would have chased him out through Meridian Gate and killed him all the way to Chessboard Street. That was what you called protection??

Regardless of whether Zhu Cilang was putting on an act, Chongzhen gritted his teeth and said: "That Tang Shiji is truly a piece of garbage!"

Zhu Cilang said seriously: "Father, issue an edict ordering the Yongwei Camp back to camp, and your son will personally deliver the decree!"

You deliver the decree? What if you turn around and lead the Yongwei Camp in to attack, draping yourself in the yellow robe? There was no way Chongzhen would let Zhu Cilang leave the palace to rendezvous with the Yongwei Camp.

Cao Huachun suggested: "Why not have Your Majesty and His Highness go together to Meridian Gate to take a look? With the two of you present, I believe the Yongwei Camp cannot turn the sky over."

Chongzhen nodded. He also wanted to see for himself and understand the situation—how had the Yongwei Camp, which he had painstakingly built, come to mutiny?

This is chapter one; the next chapter will be posted in ten minutes, so that everyone can read it more continuously.