Chapter 858: Sworn Oath

"Please go to Xuanfu and ask Yang Hong how the Xuanfu defense line was held?" the Duke of Ying said grimly. "Regardless of the actual situation, Yang Jun delayed the opportunity and failed in defense—this is undeniable. Now is a time to use talent; we may spare his life for now, but after this battle ends and His Majesty returns to the capital, we will judge his merits and faults."

Cao Nai clenched his lips tightly and said grimly: "Yang Jun allowed the Oirat forces to sneak behind us, leaving our troops without aid—his crime deserves a hundred deaths. Now is the time to execute one to warn a hundred."

The Duke of Ying sighed and demanded directly: "Do not kill him—not until the great battle is over!"

Fearing Cao Nai might act rashly, the Duke of Ying looked at Chen Huai, Liang Cheng, Wang Xi, and others: "You may not know, but you generals should know—Xuanfu cannot do without Yang Hong."

The generals fell silent.

It was true: Yang Hong had long governed Xuanfu; the soldiers looked to him as their leader. He himself had committed no grave offense, and replacing a general during wartime was a grave taboo—harmful to Great Ming.

In peacetime, the issue would be minor, but now, moving Yang Hong would bring Great Ming great problems.

Seeing the angry yet restrained expressions on the generals' faces, Cao Nai and the others realized the Duke of Ying's caution was correct.

Cao Nai immediately agreed, saying grimly: "I will give the soldiers a proper accounting for this matter later. But where is His Majesty now?"

The Duke of Ying swayed, his strength finally spent, and collapsed straight backward—the chair buckled under his full weight and toppled over.

Cao Nai and Liang Cheng swiftly caught him and laid him gently on the ground.

They checked his breath—it was nearly gone.

Pan Yun and the other two stood motionless. Cao Nai's eyes burned red as he shouted at them: "Why didn't you save him?"

Miao He said: "He has been dead for a long time."

The Duke of Ying could not open his eyes, but his ears remained sharp. He smiled faintly, and weakly patted Cao Nai's hand, as if to say he understood.

Cao Nai pulled aside his armor and saw it: a diagonal slash from upper left to lower right across his chest—soaked in blood, it had gone unnoticed until now.

"It was this wound…"

But Miao He shook her head, stepped forward, took his hand, and gently rubbed it before saying: "It is exhaustion—exhaustion so severe it caused heart failure. The moment he appeared, we knew no medicine could save him."

She glanced at Pan Yun's pale face, then added: "But since he still had unfinished matters, my junior uncle lent him Qi to keep him alive until now."

He had died of exhaustion. Cao Nai's tears fell steadily; the other civil and military ministers watched the Duke of Ying in sorrow.

Yet the Duke of Ying seemed to have known his fate all along—his face was calm. He only worried about the young emperor.

In his final moment, the haze before his eyes cleared. He seized Pan Yun's sleeve.

Pan Yun hesitated, then knelt on one knee and offered him her hand.

The Duke of Ying's gaze was sorrowful yet piercing: "Had I known you were coming, I would not have sent His Majesty to flee elsewhere."

Pan Yun said expressionlessly: "If you had not let him flee elsewhere, he would already be dead. The Emperor lacks Xia Zheng's Wu Gong and coordination."

The Duke of Ying realized this was true, and felt somewhat comforted.

He stared at Pan Yun and whispered: "So His Majesty is still alive…"

This was not a question—it was a statement.

Pan Yun said nothing.

The Duke of Ying gazed at her with piercing eyes: "You are the famed Pan Yun."

Pan Yun: "Yes, Your Grace knows me."

The Duke of Ying smiled gently: "We warriors spend half our lives in the Jianghu—we know more than others. You are unlike other cultivators."

"I have always known there are strange people in this world who ignore worldly affairs and focus solely on cultivation. I have never liked them."

The Duke of Ying said: "How can a man live in this world with only himself in mind? You are good—you are better than all others. You seek justice for your father, vengeance for the people, and fight for the throne's silver mines. Now, you will defend Great Ming's lands. You have feeling, you have righteousness—you are more human than any I have ever met."

The Duke of Ying gripped her hand tightly, praising without restraint: "Good child, I know you have ability. Please find His Majesty and bring him back to Jingcheng. Great Ming's future lies in your hands."

Pan Yun lowered her gaze, avoiding his eyes, and whispered: "I will find His Majesty, and I will do my best to prevent Great Ming from being coerced by foreign tribes until it collapses."

The Duke of Ying: "That is your vow."

Pan Yun lifted her eyelids and stared at him steadily: "That is my vow."

The Duke of Ying exhaled deeply, then turned to Cao Nai and the others, leaving only one final phrase: "Farewell, all of you!"

Seeing the Duke of Ying's face as white as paper and his breath gone, the ministers and soldiers could no longer hold back—they burst into tears.

Pan Yun gently tried to pry open the Duke's hand, but he gripped it tightly—she could not loosen it.

After Cao Nai and the others had wept, they noticed and came to help—but his hand remained locked, refusing to release.

Pan Yun pondered, then finally held his hand and whispered: "Duke of Ying, I, Pan Yun, swear to protect Great Ming's lands."

The Duke's hand loosened slightly—but did not fully let go.

Pan Yun added softly: "To ensure the Zhu imperial family's rule remains secure."

The large hand gripping hers finally released.

Everyone exhaled in relief—and when they looked at Pan Yun again, their gazes were different.

In these days, civil and military ministers had grown accustomed to death. Though pained, they quickly regained their resolve, gathering around Cao Nai and Chen Huai to discuss and await their decisions.

Unconsciously, they surrounded Pan Yun as well, leaving her no way to leave.

Pan Yun: … When civil and military ministers turn stubborn, they are truly stubborn.

Pan Yun simply sat cross-legged on the ground, waiting for their decision while meditating to restore her Qi.

Cao Nai could not bear her calmness and asked: "Master Pan, where do you think we should search for His Majesty?"

Pan Yun: "I think you should listen to the Duke of Ying and Chen Huai. The grasslands are vast—finding one man is nearly impossible. Better to regroup at Xuanfu and Datong, fortify the frontline, repel the Oirat army, and trap them behind closed gates. As long as His Majesty does not leave the pass, we will find him."

Cao Nai widened his eyes: "How could it be so…"

But he realized—it was indeed the best way, the one causing least loss to the troops. He fell silent. He always accepted sound advice.

He looked at the others.

The others said nothing. Since the Emperor's personal campaign began, the army had lost men daily—especially these past days. Those once familiar—former rivals, allies, known and unknown—had all died because of the Emperor.

They knew inwardly: only if the Emperor lived could Great Ming be safe. But when the blade hovered above their necks, they could not help wondering: must we really have this Emperor?

The late Emperor was not without other sons. Emperor Renzong had more than one son.

They exchanged glances, eyes flickering—and silently accepted Pan Yun's proposal.