Chapter 313: Great Ming's Majesty

……

Outside the city, Zhu Yong helped Guanyin Nu down from the carriage.

The family stood at the front of the line, gazing at the city in the distance.

Zhu Huanhuan stood beside her mother, speaking softly: "Mother, why are they closing the city gates?"

Guanyin Nu looked at her daughter, saying softly, "Because they are afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of us."

Zhu Huanhuan was silent for a moment, then whispered, "But we never intended to go to war."

Guanyin Nu patted her head, saying nothing.

Zhu Yong said calmly beside them, "They don't know whether we want to fight; they only know that this army can fight, and can win."

Zhu Huanhuan nodded thoughtfully.

Zhu Qiong Jiong interjected, "So they closed the city gates to protect themselves, but can those gates block Father's hammer?"

He looked at Zhu Yong.

Zhu Yong smiled and shook his head.

Zhu Qiong Jiong asked again, "Then why did they close it?"

Zhu Yong looked at the tightly shut city gates in the distant city and said slowly, "Because that's all they can do."

Zhu Qiong Jiong thought for a moment, then said, "Father, they are so pitiful."

Zhu Yong lowered his head and looked at his son.

The seven‑year‑old boy wore a serious expression.

He suddenly recalled a sentence he had read online in a past life.

"Weakness and ignorance are not obstacles to survival; arrogance is."

The Timur Empire is neither weak nor ignorant.

But they are arrogant.

Three years without tribute is arrogance.

Now, seeing Great Ming's army close the city gates as if facing a great enemy, they are cowardly.

Cowardice comes from knowing they have done wrong.

Knowing they've erred makes it easy to handle.

"They are not pitiful; they just need to understand one thing," Zhu Yong said calmly.

"What thing?" Zhu Qiong Jiong asked.

Zhu Yong looked at the distant city and said, word for word,

"Great Ming is not something they can provoke."

……

On the city wall, the defending commander finally saw reinforcements arrive.

Squads of soldiers surged onto the wall, more archers, more spearmen, crowding the rampart to the brim.

But no one felt at ease.

Because that army remained so quiet.

Three thousand men, three thousand warhorses, stood there silently, motionless and speechless.

The sun rose higher, and the sunlight grew increasingly fierce.

Those on the wall began to sweat, their mouths dry and tongues parched.

Yet the army below the city remained completely still.

The iron‑clad soldiers were like cast iron, wholly unaffected by the sun.

The defending commander suddenly found himself ridiculous.

He had guarded the city for twenty years, believing he had seen the world.

Now he realized he had never truly seen anything.

At that moment, the distant army moved.

It wasn't a charge; the whole formation moved.

A wider path opened in the middle of the ranks, and several larger carriages slowly drove forward.

Those carriages were larger and more splendid than the earlier ones.

The carriage compartments were made of the finest wood, carved with exquisite patterns, draped with silk curtains, and the windows were set with glass.

In the sunlight, the glass reflected a dazzling glare.

The commander stared with eyes widened.

Glass...

That is more precious than gold!

His Majesty Tie Mu Er possesses a glass vessel, said to be from the West, treasured beyond measure, never shown to anyone.

But now, the windows on those carriages are all made of glass!

How much would such a large piece of glass be worth?

The commander dared not imagine.

He only knows that after today, people of the Timur Empire will no longer dare call themselves "civilized people."

……

Outside the city, Zhu Yong watched those carriages drive forward, a faint smile curling his lips.

Those glass windows were installed at his order.

They're not valuable; in Great Ming, glass has long ceased to be a rarity.

But in the Timur Empire, this thing is worth more than gold.

He wants them to see.

Let them know that Great Ming is not something they can match.

"Father, when are we entering the city?" Zhu Qiong Jiong asked beside him.

Zhu Yong looked up at the sky, then glanced at the city beyond where the gates were tightly shut.

"No rush; let them panic for a while," he said calmly.

Zhu Qiong Jiong blinked and suddenly laughed.

"Father, you're really wicked."

Zhu Yong looked at him and also laughed.

"It's not wickedness; it's to make them understand that some things aren't done just because they wish so. Son, remember that wherever we go, Great Ming's authority must not be lost..."

…

On the city wall, the defending commander was on the verge of collapse.

That army had stood there silently for almost an hour.

Motionless, without a word.

But the pressure kept growing heavier.

The commander suddenly recalled a phrase.

"Soldiers at the city gates."

When he read it in school before, he thought it was just four characters.

Now he understands.

Soldiers at the city gates is not merely four characters.

It is a suffocating sense of oppression.

"General, perhaps... shall we send someone out to ask?" the Vice General said cautiously.

The commander glared at him and scolded, "Ask what? Ask what they're here for? Can't you see?"

The Vice General tucked his neck and dared not speak further.

The commander took a deep breath and looked again at that army in the distance.

It was still that quiet.

Still that orderly.

Still that terrifying.

He suddenly ordered, "Send someone to the royal palace, and urge again, saying... saying that Great Ming's army has already arrived, and request His Majesty to decide."

"Yes!"

The messenger ran down again.

The commander turned around, continued to lie on the rampart, watching that army in the distance.

In his heart he wondered, Timur Emperor, what exactly have you done to make Great Ming send such an army?

Three years without tribute—was it really worth it?

…

Outside the city, the sun had risen to its zenith.

The noon sun made people feel a bit dizzy.

But the Longxiang Army's soldiers remained perfectly still.

Three thousand men and three thousand warhorses stood there silently.

This is the rule.

Without orders, no one may move.

Zhu Yong looked at those soldiers, a hint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes.

This army was brought up by his own hand.

From a few thousand at the start to now thirty thousand elite of the Longxiang Army.

Their equipment is the best, training the toughest, discipline the strictest.

This is Great Ming's elite, and also his confidence.

"Prince, it's time to eat," Guanyin Nu came over, saying softly.

Zhu Yong nodded, leading his family back to the carriage.

The servants had already set out the food.

It was simple: just some Dry Rations, jerky, and a pot of tea.

But in a place like this, having a cup of hot tea was already a luxury.

Zhu Qiong Jiong gnawed the jerky, his eyes fixed on the distant city wall.

"Father, will they keep the gates closed?"

Zhu Yong took a sip of tea and said calmly, "No."

"Why?"

"Because they are more impatient than we are."

Zhu Qiong Jiong blinked, not quite understanding.

Zhu Huanhuan whispered beside him, "Idiot, they closed the city gates; the citizens inside can't get in, the caravans outside can't enter, and if it lasts long, chaos will arise."

Zhu Qiong Jiong let out an "oh", and, thoughtful, nodded.

……

On the city wall, the commander was already frantic, spinning in circles.

Outside the city, that army was actually eating!

So many people, sitting so neatly on the ground, quietly eating Dry Rations and drinking water.

Even eating is so disciplined!

The commander felt only a wave of despair.

He finally understood why Great Ming could seize such vast territories, and why His Majesty Tie Mu Er had not dared to advance east all these years.

With such an army, who could defeat it?

"General, His Majesty has issued an order!" A messenger ran up the wall, panting, and handed over a document.

The commander took it and skimmed it quickly.

Then he was stunned.

The document contained only one sentence.

"Open the city gates and receive Great Ming's envoys with state ceremony."

The commander lifted his head and looked toward that army in the distance.

A complex feeling suddenly welled up inside him.

His Majesty Tie Mu Er finally bowed his head.

……

Outside the city, Zhu Yong had just finished lunch when he saw the city gates slowly open.

Rows of soldiers surged out of the gates, lining both sides of the formation.

Then a group of officials in splendid brocade robes, crowding a golden carriage, slowly drove it out of the gate.

The carriage stopped about Hundred Steps from the Longxiang Army.

A tall, middle‑aged man with a great beard and a Gold Crown stepped out of the carriage.

His gait was odd, limping.

Tie Mu Er.

"Lame Tie Mu Er".

Zhu Yong stood up and watched the man walking toward him.

A feeling of sentiment rose in his heart.

In the history of his previous life, this man had almost defeated Great Ming.

But in this life, he personally came to receive Great Ming's envoys.

That is the difference.

Tie Mu Er walked up to Zhu Yong and bowed deeply.

"Tie Mu Er, respectfully welcome Prince Wu of Great Ming."

His Mandarin was stiff, but very respectful.

Zhu Yong looked at him and said lightly, "His Majesty Tie Mu Er, three years apart—how have you been?"

Tie Mu Er's body tensed slightly.

He lifted his head and looked at the young man before him.

Thick brows, large eyes, a square face, a full forehead, his gaze calm as water.

Yet beneath the calm lay a majesty that one dared not stare at.

He suddenly understood that sending this man was not without reason.

He inhaled deeply and bowed again.

"Tie Mu Er, you are guilty..."

Zhu Yong looked at him, was silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

"Being guilty is fine; knowing you're guilty makes it easy to handle."

He turned and looked at the magnificent city.

Sama Erhan had finally arrived.

Behind him, three thousand Longxiang Army troops remained motionless, as silent as a mountain.

Sunlight fell on them; that steel forest exuded a suffocating majesty.

Timur Empire officials, watching from afar, turned pale one by one, their legs weakening.

They finally understood what Great Ming's majesty meant.

What invincibility is.

And Zhu Yong stood at the front of the formation, hands behind his back.

The dark princely robes rustled in the wind.

On the horses behind, the two gilded war hammers glimmered a dark gold in the sunlight.

"Let's go! Enter the city," he said lightly.

The three thousand Longxiang Army troops moved in unison.

The sound of hooves rolled across the ground like muffled thunder.

Timur Empire officials retreated one after another, clearing the road.

Not one dared to look up.

Not one dared to speak.

Only that steel‑like army moved slowly forward, toward the city that had once been overbearing.

Sa Ma Erhan finally lowered their head in fear.