Chapter 263: Not Yet Satisfied

As the words fell, dozens of axe‑men surged from all sides in an instant, some brandishing swords, some with crossbows, charging straight at Zhu Yuanzhang.

At that moment, Zhu Yong, who stood beside Zhu Yuanzhang, moved.

He lifted a six‑hundred‑jin war‑drum jar golden hammer with one hand and swung it horizontally.

The three axe‑men at the front didn't even have time to scream; they were flung like rags, slammed into the courtyard wall, and burst into three clouds of blood mist.

One hammer, three men.

Zhu Yong kept moving, and the other hammer followed closely, smashing toward the five people rushing in from the left.

The five raised their swords together to block; the swords snapped, arms broke, and the bodies were sent flying.

Another five lives.

Zhu Yong stood in front of Zhu Yuanzhang, the Double Hammers whirring like two golden whirlwinds.

The axe‑men surged forward, only to be smashed and sent flying.

They charged again, and were smashed again.

Even the crossbow bolts aimed at them were hammered away, as if a tightly woven net...

No one could get within three steps of Zhu Yuanzhang.

Someone fired cold arrows from the side, three crossbow bolts whizzing in.

Zhu Yong didn't turn his head; with a backward sweep of a hammer, the three arrows snapped simultaneously, their tips shattering and flying.

Immediately, his left‑hand hammer flew free, smashing toward the axe‑man who had fired the arrows.

The man stared wide‑eyed as the six‑hundred‑jin iron hammer struck his chest, sending him flying backward, smashing through the Moon Gate behind him.

Zhu Yong strode over, picked up the hammer from the ground, and wiped the blood off his clothes.

In barely a dozen breaths, over thirty axe‑men—half dead, half gravely wounded— the survivors cowered on the ground, trembling, too scared to move.

Blood ran like a river through the courtyard.

Zhu Yong hoisted the hammer and walked back to Zhu Yuanzhang, smiling, "Father, it's over now."

Zhu Yuanzhang sat on a stone stool, motionless, not even spilling a drop of tea.

He looked at the corpses strewn across the ground, then at his blood‑soaked son, and suddenly laughed.

"Good kid, over thirty people, and you handled them all by yourself."

Zhu Yong scratched his head and said, "I haven't even had my fill of fighting, and they're already gone."

Next to them, Hu Weiyong lay slumped on the ground, his face ashen.

He knew everything was over.

At that moment, a deafening roar of battle cries erupted from outside the Yuefu.

Immediately, Wang Gui led a squad of Longxiang Army soldiers into the courtyard, kneeling on one knee and saying, "His Majesty! I have already led my troops to surround the Yuefu; not a single rebel can escape!"

Zhu Yuanzhang rose, walked to Hu Weiyong's side, and looked down at him from a height.

"Hu Weiyong, let me ask you, this sweet‑spring omen—was it just to lure us here so you could strike?"

Hu Weiyong trembled all over, unable to utter a single word.

Zhu Yuanzhang crouched, patted his face, and said, "We've known you had a problem for a long time; we just wanted to see how long you could endure."

"Never thought you'd be so petty—just a broken well water, and you think you can fool us?"

He stood up, looked at Zhu Biao, and said, "Biao, you come and examine the matter clearly; you know what should be done."

Zhu Biao bowed and replied, "Your son, I understand."

Zhu Yuanzhang turned to Zhu Yong, smiling, "Yong Er, you protected the carriage today; later we'll reward you properly."

Zhu Yong smiled back, "Father, I don't need a reward; as long as you're safe, that's enough."

Zhu Yuanzhang laughed heartily, patted his shoulder, and strode out.

……

Three days later, the morning court.

Zhu Yuanzhang sat on the imperial throne, his expression grim.

Zhu Biao stepped forward and reported the verdict of the Hu Weiyong case: the treason was confirmed, his conspirators spread throughout the court, involving dozens of officials, and the plot had been brewing for more than a day.

The hall fell silent.

Zhu Yuanzhang scanned the ministers and said coldly, "All these years we've treated him well, made him Chancellor, let him oversee the Six Ministries, yet he only thinks of taking my life, my son's life."

He paused, then his voice grew even colder: "Hu Weiyong, you are to be executed by slow slicing; your co‑conspirators—principal offenders—shall have the Nine Clans exterminated, accomplices—three clans. This case will be overseen by the Crown Prince, with the Jinyi Guard assisting; not a single one shall be spared."

The ministers knelt, shouting in unison, "His Majesty, your wisdom!"

Zhu Biao stood at the foot of the imperial steps, his face calm, his gaze as cold as ice.

He knew this was only the beginning.

Hu Weiyong had built his network in the court for years; his followers were everywhere, and eradicating them would require tens of thousands of men.

But none of those who must die may be spared.

……

The tenth day of the fifth month.

Outside Wu Men, the execution ground.

Hu Weiyong was bound to a Wooden Stake, naked, while the executioner, knife in hand, sliced his flesh piece by piece.

The crowd of onlookers pressed in densely, yet not a sound was heard.

Hu Weiyong's screams echoed outside Wu Men.

Zhu Biao stood on the tea house beside the execution ground, holding a cup of tea, expressionless as he watched everything.

Zhu Yong sat nearby, munching on snacks.

"Big brother, how many cuts does this require?" Zhu Xi asked.

"Three thousand six hundred blades, this is Imperial Father's will; rebellion deserves this fate," Zhu Biao said lightly.

This black‑hearted Crown Prince, watching the cruel scene below, shows not the slightest discomfort; this is the merciful Crown Prince of Great Ming.

Zhu Yong nodded and continued to gnaw on snacks.

He has seen battlefields worse than this; for this scene his eyelids wouldn't even blink.

He only felt a bit of sentiment; in previous‑life history, the Hu Weiyong case implicated over thirty thousand people.

In this life, he doesn't know how many.

But regardless of the number, he will not sympathize.

Dare to move his father, his elder brother, his family—they deserve death.

……

Evening, Wu Wang Fu.

When Zhu Yong returned to the manor, the sky had already turned dark.

Guanyin Nu came out to greet him with two children.

The elder daughter Zhu Huanhuan, though resembling Guanyin Nu with delicate brows and eyes, has the temperament of a little girl like Zhu Yong—simple‑minded and loves to laugh.

The younger son Zhu Qiong Jiong, four years old, tiger‑headed and spirited, was holding a small Stone Lock; seeing Zhu Yong return, he ran over, looked up and shouted, "Father! I did fifty reps today!"

Zhu Yong bent down, lifted him up, and laughed, "Impressive, stronger than your father was when he was young."

Zhu Qiong Jiong smiled proudly.

Guanyin Nu walked over and asked softly, "Prince, are you… alright!"

Zhu Yong showed a smile and replied, "I'm fine; the elder brother is on trial, those who should be killed are killed, those who should be exiled are exiled."

Guanyin Nu nodded and asked no further.

She is Wang Baobao's sister, raised on the Grassland since childhood, accustomed to tribal fighting.

She sees clearly the affairs of the court, but never speaks out.

The family of four entered the manor; Hu Bo had already prepared dinner.

At the dining table, Zhu Huanhuan suddenly asked, "Father, did you kill bad people today?"

Zhu Yong was startled, then laughed, "I did."

"What do bad people look like?"

"They look like ordinary people; their hearts are black."

Zhu Huanhuan tilted her head, thought, then said seriously, "Then, Father, from now on, whenever you see a black‑hearted person, you must kill them."

Zhu Yong patted her head and replied, "Alright, Father will follow your word."

Guanyin Nu laughed out loud beside them.

Zhu Qiong Jiong, holding a big chicken leg and gnawing with a greasy mouth, suddenly looked up and said, "Father, when I grow up I also want to kill bad people with you!"

Zhu Yong laughed heartily, "Good! When you grow a few more years, Father will take you into battle."

Outside the window, the night breeze brushed lightly.

The distant Imperial City lights flickered in the night sky.

In this May of the thirteenth year of Hongwu, a storm that had been brewing for years finally settled.

And the future of Great Ming continues.