Chapter 871: The Emperor Falls

Outside Datong City, banners fluttered as a massive army pressed in, a dark, dense mass.

The Oirat army advanced ceaselessly, scouts from every direction racing back with reports.

"Report — some fifty thousand troops approaching from the western suburbs!"

"Report — Oirat infantry on the left and right wings outside the northern gate are sweeping in, they've crossed the twenty-li line, nearly upon us!"

Kuang Ye fixed his gaze, heavy and dark, on the Oirat army that had already halted beyond the moat, knowing this time was different from the last few.

"The last operation angered Esen." Kuang Ye had a splitting headache, but felt no regret — only grief that the operation had failed to bring the Emperor out, and had left Pan Yun heavily wounded.

Chen Huai, sharp-eyed, spotted the Emperor being shoved forward at the very front of the enemy line. He lunged to the wall's edge, fists clenched tight: "It's Your Majesty!"

Cao Nai followed his gaze, his heart aching fiercely.

The group then saw an Oirat soldier, in shoving the Emperor, tear off his sleeve, and the Emperor himself pitched forward from the push — every face involuntarily went pale.

The news reached the city. The civil and military officials, who had been organizing soldiers below the tower, scrambled up the tower on hands and knees. Seeing the Emperor looking more wretched than in any of the previous times, they burst into weeping: "Your Majesty, Your Majesty—"

The Oirats, as if the torment were not yet enough, dragged two sheep over and hauled at the Emperor, trying to strip every last garment from his body.

The officials and soldiers on the tower watched, their faces going pale, all glaring down in fury.

Chen Huai finally could bear no more. He let out a wild, screaming howl, turned, and dropped to his knees before Kuang Ye: "Commander, give me troops — I'll go rescue Your Majesty!"

The other generals also dropped to their knees one after another, eyes bloodshot: "When the sovereign is shamed, his ministers should die. We would gladly die in battle for Your Majesty rather than see him suffer such disgrace!"

The Oirats meant to perform the Sheep-Dragging Ceremony on Your Majesty — since the Jin and Yuan dynasties, this had been a shame upon the Han people. How could the Emperor of Great Ming endure such an insult?

At this moment, every soul on the tower wished to leap down and hack at the Oirats, even if it meant being torn to pieces.

The ministers burned with fury, all fixing their bloodshot eyes on Kuang Ye, waiting for his order.

Kuang Ye's fists clenched tight, his eyes bloodshot, nearly bitten bloody, yet he forced himself to endure and said: "His Majesty is in their hands…"

At this moment, the news of the court enthroning a new Emperor was still en route. The ministers on the tower did not know that, just yesterday, Wang Zhen's fellow-traveler and Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard Ma Shun had been beaten to death in the great hall, and the senior ministers led by Yu Qian had decided to support Zhu Qiyu to succeed as Emperor, and by evening had just persuaded the Empress Dowager to issue her edict of consent.

That very morning, the edict was read aloud in the great hall; the Ministry of Rites would select another auspicious day to enthrone the new Emperor. At this moment, the envoys bearing the edict to all quarters had only just galloped out of the capital, racing toward every direction.

Among them, the northern envoy carrying two imperial edicts was galloping toward the Great Wall at full speed. Once past the Great Wall, they would split — one carrying an edict to Xuanfu, the other carrying an edict to Datong.

The edicts bore not only the Empress Dowager's seal, but also the Emperor's seal.

First, it informed all quarters that the Empress Dowager had set the Prince of Cheng, Zhu Qiyu, as the new Emperor; then, the new Emperor ordered every pass to hold firm, not to let a single Oirat soldier through.

Because this news had not yet been received, in the ministers' hearts Zhu Qizhen was still their lord and father. The Oirats holding the Emperor meant, in their eyes, holding the lifeblood of Great Ming.

They could shut the city gates tight, but they could not send troops to fight the enemy — if the Emperor were harmed, ten thousand deaths could not absolve them.

Kuang Ye bit down hard and said nothing. Cao Nai, shaking off the dizziness before his eyes, glanced at the Emperor, who kept struggling and refused to let the rope be put on him, then seized Kuang Ye's arm, his lips trembling slightly: "If the Founding Emperor knew beneath the springs…"

The two old ministers at once burst into tears.

Cao Nai swallowed down his grief, wiped his tears, and said in a heavy voice: "We must make some preparations."

Kuang Ye, eyes bloodshot, said: "His Majesty is here — we cannot fight. But outside the west gate, the two wings can still be engaged. Men—""No!" Chen Huai's reason returned, and he blocked him: "The Oirats outside the west gate can be left alone, but the two wings must not be engaged. Otherwise, once they coordinate their response, anyone we send out will be surrounded and cut off — no return."

He said in a low voice: "We cannot vent our fury by placing soldiers in peril." It would be a meaningless struggle — not an inch of ground gained, the Emperor not rescued, and morale shattered instead.

Kuang Ye came back to himself and made other arrangements.

Chen Huai silently helped with the troop dispositions.

Just then, a clear cry rang out from midair, and everyone involuntarily looked up.

They saw a great bird flying in from the northwest, far off, and on the bird there seemed to stand a person.

Soldiers on both sides heard it and looked up at the sky, surprise on every face.

The Emperor, his clothes half torn away, immediately gathered them up and clutched them tight before raising his head to look at the sky.

The dark speck drew near swiftly. Strangely, the Emperor's eyes were perfectly clear — he could actually make out the figure in the distant sky.

The other wore a bird mask that covered the face, leaving only a pair of eyes visible.

The two gazed at each other across the sky. The other was dressed in Mongol garb, hair braided back, of medium build but with an upright, striking bearing — he should be a handsome man.

Zhu Qizhen felt the eyes were familiar, as if he had seen them somewhere before.

Before he could react, the other, under his gaze, lifted a bow; an arrow appeared in his hand, he nocked it, drew the bow full, the arrowhead aimed at him.

Zhu Qizhen's pupils contracted sharply, his heart pounding. Under his gaze, everything seemed to slow. In that instant, he felt the people around him vanish — between heaven and earth, only he and the other remained…

In that split instant, the arrow, with a force that could shatter heaven and earth, tore through the air and hurtled toward him.

Esen, who had been sitting calmly on his war-chariot, had risen the moment the bird and the rider appeared. Before he could even discern the newcomer's identity, he saw him nock and draw — he was greatly alarmed, leapt forward two steps, and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Protect the Emperor! Protect the Emperor—"

But faster than his shout was the arrow. The arrow, with the force of a thunderbolt, clove down through the clouds and, with the weight of ten thousand jun, pierced straight through the Emperor's heart.

Zhu Qizhen heard only a soft *puchi* at his ear, then belatedly felt the pain in his chest. He lowered his head to look at the gaping hole in his heart, then dazedly raised his head to meet the gaze of the figure in the sky.

It was Pan Yun!