Chapter 842

The heavens shifted dramatically, and all who understood celestial phenomena were shaken, their attention turning instinctively to news from Jingcheng and the northern lands.

Though the young emperor is often capricious, he is the sovereign of the realm, and his fate carries immense weight.

Only he could cause such a dramatic shift in the heavens.

Everyone's hearts tightened as they devoutly prayed to heaven, hoping the emperor would return safely to the capital.

Pan Yun also clutched the jade pendant in one hand and stroked the small earth god statue in the other, silently praying within her heart.

Pan Xiaohei lay at her feet, looking up at her with dark, earnest eyes: 【You hold a butcher's knife and pray to heaven for his safety?】

Pan Yun: 【If he is safe, the butcher's knife will never rise.】

Xue Shao had somehow slept down from the roof; only one person and one cat sat atop the roof all night.

On the grasslands, Peng Deqing, the newly appointed Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau long tagged as Wang Zhen's confidant, arrived before dawn outside Wang Zhen's tent and urged him: "Your Excellency, last night's celestial omen warns us—we must not advance further, or we shall trap His Majesty in the wilderness. Who will bear responsibility?"

Wang Zhen refused outright, sneering: "We shall reach Datong tomorrow. If we don't enter the city, won't it be a fruitless expedition? His Majesty will never agree."

Peng Deqing whispered: "His Majesty is open to counsel. Why not stay here today to rest? If you urge him repeatedly, he will listen eventually."

"No!" Wang Zhen clenched his teeth, his voice stern: "Due to days of heavy rain, our march has been slow, mishaps have piled up, and His Majesty is already displeased with me. When he insisted on personally leading the campaign, he quarreled bitterly with the ministers. How could he possibly turn back? If I act like Kuang Ye or Zhang Fu, he will surely despise me."

"Moreover," Wang Zhen lowered his voice, "His Majesty has already agreed that when we return, we shall pass through Weizhou—I haven't set foot in my hometown in twenty years…"

Wang Zhen did not finish, but his meaning was clear.

Peng Deqing instantly fell silent, for he knew further pleading was useless.

At first light, the army broke camp and pressed onward.

The army trudged slowly, with gaps forming in its ranks, yet still crammed tightly together, morale sinking, no longer the proud, spirited force it had been upon leaving Jingcheng.

Yu Rui had taken the medicine Pan Yu arranged, survived the fever and coughing phase, and was now recovered—though he still coughed occasionally, and his face remained pale.

His limbs still felt weak, but he did not attribute it to illness—it was hunger.

Yes, hunger.

From the moment the emperor issued the order until departure, he gave the Ministry of War and the Ministry of Revenue only two days to prepare.

Though messengers had raced ahead to arrange provisions along the route, and the Ministry of Revenue hurriedly shipped a batch ahead, and the army carried some supplies, it was still insufficient—far from sufficient.

War has always demanded grain first; emperors like this one were not unheard of—but they were always vanguards.

Vanguard troops typically carried only three days' dried rations, then relied on foraging locally.

But the emperor led a vast, endless army of two hundred thousand, plus auxiliary troops and laborers—about two hundred fifty thousand men. Such numbers could never be sustained by foraging.

Kuang Ye, Chen Xun, and others had turned their hair white trying to mobilize grain.

Under these conditions, the army finally reached Datong at noon on the second day.

Datong erupted in joy; the people lined the streets to welcome the imperial carriage.

The emperor was delighted; for the first time, a smile appeared on his face. He laughed: "Issue orders—I shall reward the troops tonight."

The soldiers and attendants cheered in agreement.

The order reached Kuang Ye and Chen Xun; their expressions grew even more grim: "What shall we reward them with?"

The Marquis of Ying, mounted on horseback, was preoccupied elsewhere; his gaze swept the city and sensed something was amiss.

He slowed his horse, waiting for the Prince Consort Jing Yuan and the Earl of Pingxiang Chen Huai to catch up, then whispered: "You two send discreet scouts to investigate Datong's situation—find out how the recent battles have gone."

Jing Yuan and Chen Huai exchanged glances and murmured their assent.

Datong's Commander Guo Deng and the eunuch supervisor Guo Jing jointly welcomed the emperor into the city. After he was lodged, Guo Deng reported the military situation in Datong.

He stated that the Oirat forces had been temporarily repelled, and Datong's defenders had achieved a stage-by-stage victory.

The emperor remarked casually: "My intent is to hunt northward—to expel the Oirats entirely. Where do you think we should engage them?"

Guo Deng immediately knelt: "Your Majesty, Datong is already the frontline. We must not advance further north."

The ministers quickly joined in, pleading: In just twenty days, many soldiers have been wounded or fallen ill. If we go further north, please, Your Majesty, spare us.

The Marquis of Ying, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke: "Your Majesty, detach one hundred thousand troops under Jing Yuan, Chen Huai, and others to drive out Yishi's invading army, reclaim occupied lands; leave eighty thousand to guard Your Majesty's person; and assign twenty thousand as vanguard to clear obstacles along the planned return route, preventing Oirat ambushes."

Guo Deng frowned, pursing his lips: "Marquis of Ying, Datong has never fallen. How could the Oirats possibly ambush His Majesty on his return via Zijing Pass?"

The Marquis of Ying replied calmly: "We naturally trust Commander Guo—but caution is always wise."

The emperor fell into thought—would this mean he had merely taken a one-day tour of Datong?

If he could not lead troops into battle, why had he endured such hardship to travel thousands of miles here?

Reluctant, the emperor growled: "This matter will be reconsidered."

Chen Huai, desperate, cried out: "Your Majesty—"

The emperor frowned: "Everyone is weary from the march. Rest first. We shall deliberate on battle plans later."

The Marquis of Ying sighed and bowed, withdrawing.

Since the Marquis of Ying had withdrawn, everyone else followed suit.

No sooner had they left than the emperor summoned Guo Deng again: "Bring the map. Where are the Oirat forces now? How were the previous battles fought? How many did we win? How many enemies were slain?"

Guo Deng's heart pounded, fearing the emperor would insist on personally leading the charge—but he had no choice but to retrieve the map.

Guo Jing, while the emperor was distracted, slipped Wang Zhen a covert glance; the two exited the room one after the other, leaving only the emperor's excited voice and Guo Deng's steady explanations inside.

Wang Zhen allowed Guo Jing to grasp his hand; once they reached a secluded spot, he smiled faintly: "You've had good fortune. Though entangled in the arms smuggling case, since it involved Prince Lu and the Earl of Huichang, the matter was quietly dropped—you escaped unscathed."

"It was thanks to Your Excellency's maneuvering within the palace that my life was spared," Guo Jing whispered. "I know this well. So even before Guo Deng, I must warn Your Excellency."

Wang Zhen's smile vanished. He asked sternly: "Warn me? Warn me of what?"

Guo Jing whispered: "Guo Deng concealed military intelligence. Yishi's army has advanced southward. In every engagement, Datong's defenders have been defeated by the Northern Yuan forces, suffering heavy losses."

Wang Zhen's face turned ashen: "What? Such a grave matter—and Guo Deng dares not report it?"

Guo Jing whispered: "Who could have anticipated His Majesty would personally lead the campaign?" Guo Deng originally reported the situation truthfully when he begged for reinforcements from the capital—he only wanted a relief force, then intended to continue fighting.

He lowered his voice: "Yishi must have prepared for a long time. His forces vastly outnumber Datong's, and their cavalry is devastating. If we sortie to fight, we will lose! Guo Deng first appealed to Xuanfu for aid—but Yishi sent another army toward Xuanfu; Yang Hong sent no reinforcements, so he had no choice but to beg the capital. Who could have foreseen His Majesty would come in person?"

With the emperor's personal campaign, Guo Deng looked at his own battle reports and found them shameful—even he could not bear to show them to the ministers accompanying His Majesty.

Guo Deng could almost see the guillotine hanging above his head, and only then did he feel forced to falsify the military report.

Why didn't Guo Jing, as the supervisor of troops, expose him before the Emperor and the ministers?

Because he was complicit too.

With the battle going this badly, could the supervisor expect a good outcome?

But Guo Jing was still loyal—he could betray the Emperor, but not his own beloved seal-bearer.

Wang Zhen had saved him from dire straits multiple times; of course he told Wang Zhen the truth: "Seal-Bearer, Datong is no longer safe. You should take the route through Yanghe. A few days ago, our garrison clashed with the Oirat forces there and suffered a crushing defeat—they couldn't even retrieve the corpses. You should have seen the bones littering the road…"

He had seen them, of course—bodies strewn everywhere, not just soldiers but ordinary civilians too—but he simply didn't let it trouble him.

Wars never go without deaths.

But… what if Datong keeps losing?

Wang Zhen swallowed hard and asked, "Is Datong no longer safe?"

"Yes," Guo Jing whispered. "Seal-Bearer, if you can persuade His Majesty to return to the capital soon, you should urge him to do so."

Wang Zhen fell into thought.

On the other side, the sidelined ministers gathered around the Duke of Ying, hoping he would offer them a plan.

Zhang Fu's gaze swept over them, and he sighed deeply—he was seventy years old; though he had come along with the Emperor's procession, he held only his noble title, not a general's rank.

He knew the Emperor had brought him only as an advisor—he had no real authority.

Everyone present, except for a handful who had risen solely through patronage and had no cunning, had some sense.

Yet they feigned ignorance, forcing an old man like him to take the lead.

But he couldn't afford to act recklessly—the Emperor was with the army; if anything happened to him, Zhang Fu would be guilty of a crime beyond redemption.

He could only suppress his sigh and said gravely: "The corpses littering the southern outskirts of Yanghe prove Datong failed to hold its defensive line—or at least once, it failed, allowing the Oirat forces to break through to the rear. The Emperor's personal campaign has created a complex situation; we cannot blindly trust Guo Deng's reports. You must prepare yourselves."

Kuang Ye said, "It would be safest to order the Emperor to retreat."

The Duke of Ying snapped, "His Majesty is determined to march north and confront the Oirats. We can't even get an audience with him—how can we advise him?"

Traveling is not like being in the palace.

In the palace, ministers could meet the Emperor in the court or the study, or even kneel outside the palace gates; the palace's tangled power structures always offered ways to make the Emperor hear them.

But on campaign, the Emperor is under the highest security—only Wang Zhen can see him at will; everyone else must go through Wang Zhen to gain an audience.

Last time, Kuang Ye and Chen Xun clashed with Wang Zhen, and Wang Zhen issued an imperial decree ordering them to kneel outside the imperial tent all night. To this day, they still don't know whether it was truly the Emperor's order—or Wang Zhen forging it.

Exhausted, the Duke of Ying instructed them to investigate the true situation in Datong and calm the troops, then went to rest. As he left, he brushed his hand against Jing Yuan's.

Deep in the night, Jing Yuan secretly went to see the Duke of Ying.

The Duke of Ying lay on his bed, his face pale with illness.

Jing Yuan was deeply worried: "Is the Duke ill?"

The attendant whispered, "The Duke is over seventy. This journey has been soaked in rain, filled with forced marches, and piled with humiliations—how can a man his age endure it?"

The Duke of Ying silenced the attendant, pointed to the door, and ordered him out.

When only the two of them remained, the Duke of Ying whispered, "Prince Consort, you may be the only one who can save His Majesty and the people."

Jing Yuan was startled: "Why does the Duke say that?"

The Duke of Ying sighed: "None of us can see the Emperor. Among all these men, only you still have a chance."

Jing Yuan was married to Princess Jiaxing, daughter of Emperor Renzong, making him the Emperor's uncle-in-law; he was also exceptionally capable—one of the few Ming imperial sons-in-law worth mentioning.

He had taken up arms after abandoning the brush, earned numerous battle merits, and once commanded troops along the northern frontier to fight the northern barbarians—he was truly both literary and martial.

The young Emperor has always favored talent, and he has always trusted and valued this uncle-in-law, so he placed him in the Imperial Guard and brought him along on this campaign.

The Duke of Ying knew Jing Yuan had always avoided offending Wang Zhen—who would want to offend Wang Zhen?

Even he, at his age, didn't want to.

Unless he was forced.

And now, the moment had come.

The Duke of Ying gripped his hand and urged him softly: "His Majesty is the anchor of the empire. If he perishes on this expedition, the realm will descend into chaos—this is throwing the people into fire and water."

The Duke of Ying tightened his grip and said gravely: "If disaster strikes, we are all guilty of unforgivable crimes. That is why I beg you."

Saying this, he tried to roll off the bed and kneel before Jing Yuan.

Jing Yuan was startled and quickly grabbed his arms, dropping to his own knees, face flushed: "Your Grace, you're trying to kill me! How could I ever accept your kneeling? Whatever you ask of me, I will do—even if it costs me my life!"

The Duke of Ying then said: "Go to the Emperor. You must persuade him to return to the capital."

Jing Yuan ran his fingers through his hair in anguish: "Your Grace, you've watched the Emperor grow up—you know his nature. He has grand ambitions, but he is stubborn, impulsive, and obsessed with face. He insisted on this personal campaign—how could he possibly return without firing a single arrow?"

The Duke of Ying: "I know. If Guo Deng had held Datong and truly kept Esen beyond the frontier, I would have gladly arranged a ceremonial troop review for the Emperor to command. But Guo Deng is clearly hiding something. With the Emperor here, we have no time for slow investigations. The best course is to leave!"

The Duke of Ying said gravely: "No matter how much face he values, is it worth more than his life? Tell the Emperor: as long as a man lives, all possibilities remain. Once he dies, everything is gone."

Jing Yuan fell into thought.

The Duke of Ying said: "Guo Jing is Wang Zhen's man. Have the Emperor ask Wang Zhen."

He sneered: "Wang Zhen is a master of deception—but he fears death, fears losing power, and is a fool with a small mind. When the Emperor questions him, with His Majesty's intelligence, he will surely sense something is wrong. Then, you must beg him relentlessly: the Emperor has no Crown Prince yet. If he perishes in the north, what becomes of the Empress Dowager? What becomes of the capital? What becomes of Great Ming?"