Chapter 315: Question

"Your rules... I remember, three years ago you even sent envoys to Yingtian Prefecture, kneeling in the Fengtian Hall, to kowtow to my Imperial Father and present tribute."

"Back then, why didn't you say that this is the rule of your Timur Empire?" Zhu Yong looked at him, his face beginning to turn serious.

The hall erupted in a clamor.

The foreign envoys whispered to each other, murmuring.

The officials of the Timur Empire wore grim faces.

Tie Mu Er's expression darkened instantly.

He slammed his hand on the throne armrest and shouted angrily, "How dare you! The Timur Empire is no longer what it was; I have swept Central Asia, my power shakes the four corners—what is Great Ming?"

As soon as the words fell, Zhang Wuhe and Chen Heng already drew the Flintlock Guns at their waists, aiming at Tie Mu Er.

Wang Gui's hand rested on his sword hilt, ready to charge at any moment.

The Timur Empire's royal guards inside the hall also drew their weapons and rushed forward.

Swords were drawn, bows taut.

Ready to spring.

The foreign envoys turned deathly pale with fear, some already beginning to step back.

Zhu Yong, however, remained standing there, unmoving.

He looked at Tie Mu Er, his smile fading, his gaze becoming as calm as water.

"Tie Mu Er, what did you just say... I didn't hear clearly."

The voice was not loud, yet everyone in the hall heard it clearly.

Tie Mu Er looked at him and suddenly felt a chill down his spine.

He had fought for twenty years, slain countless people, and seen countless fierce generals.

But he had never seen a gaze like this before.

So calm that not a ripple moved.

Like a bottomless pool of water.

You don't know what lies beneath, but you know that once that water stirs, it can drown everything.

Tie Mu Er opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but found he could not utter a word.

At that moment, a clamor suddenly rose from outside the hall.

Immediately followed by shouts, cries of death, and the chilling "bang bang" sounds that exploded instantly.

It was the Longxiang Army.

They had moved.

The faces of those inside the hall all changed.

Tie Mu Er sprang to his feet, intending to rush out to see what was happening.

But as soon as he took a step, Zhu Yong blocked his path.

Zhu Yong still wore that calm demeanor, looking at him.

"His Majesty Tie Mu Er, do not be hasty; the matters outside can be discussed later. For now, let us finish our words."

Tie Mu Er's royal guards surged forward, trying to protect His Majesty.

Zhang Wuhe raised his hand and fired several shots; the few guards at the front fell instantly.

The others were stunned by the power of the Flintlock Gun, frozen in place, daring not to advance.

Outside the hall, the shouts and cries grew nearer.

The "bang bang bang" of gunfire merged into a cacophony, mixed with the wailing and pleas for mercy of Timur Empire soldiers.

The foreign envoys curled up in terror, some already beginning to tremble.

A Portuguese envoy, clutching his head with both hands, muttered in Portuguese, "God! What kind of weapon... what kind of army...?"

The people beside him could not understand, but they could feel the fear.

Tie Mu Er's complexion could no longer be described as merely grim.

Pale as death.

Steel‑blue.

He stared at Zhu Yong, his eyes full of disbelief.

How could this be possible?

He had thirty thousand troops stationed at Samarkhan, walls five zhang high, and the city stocked with ample Grain and Fodder.

How could three thousand men breach it so quickly?

Zhu Yong looked at him and said lightly, "Tie Mu Er, do you know what mistake you have made?"

Tie Mu Er opened his mouth, unable to speak.

"You overestimate yourself; you think that sweeping Central Asia makes you unbeatable, that Great Ming being unable to act because you haven't paid tribute for three years leaves you unchallenged, that a mere show of force can make me bow."

Zhu Yong spoke word for word.

He took a step forward.

Tie Mu Er instinctively stepped back.

"You... do you know who I am?"

He continued forward, saying as he walked, "I am the Prince Wu of Great Ming, the Imperial Father's legitimate second son, the Crown Prince's younger brother.

At thirteen I entered the army and that same year broke open Kaiping, at fifteen I destroyed the Northern Yuan, at sixteen I pacified the Nüzhen, at seventeen I subjugated Goryeo, at eighteen I secured Wa Country, and in my early twenties I descended upon the South Sea."

He took another step.

Tie Mu Er stepped back again.

"I have fought countless battles, slain countless people; I cannot even count them myself... but I know one thing."

He stopped in his tracks and looked at Tie Mu Er.

"No place I have struck can overturn the heavens; no person I have killed can ever stand again."

He pointed at his hammer.

"This thing, one thousand two hundred jin, I have used it to smash open the gates of Kaiping City, to smash open the gates of Helin City, and to crush countless people who thought themselves invincible."

"You think… your skull is harder than my hammer…"

Tie Mu Er looked at the two hammers, and fear finally showed in his eyes.

Listening to Zhu Yong's words, every foreign envoy who understood the meaning through the translator swallowed their saliva, looking at Prince Wu of Great Ming with unparalleled fear.

Their final gazes all fell upon the two war hammers called one thousand two hundred jin.

One thousand two hundred jin…

Heavens!

Could Prince Wu perhaps be a god who failed to descend? How could a mortal possibly lift such a heavy weapon?

Inside the palace, apart from the sounds of breathing and swallowing saliva, no one dared to make even the slightest noise.

The shouts and cries of battle outside the hall gradually subsided.

In their place came the orderly sound of footsteps.

It was the march of the Longxiang Army.

Zhang Wu's Vice General strode into the hall, kneeling on one knee.

"Prince, the palace has been taken; Tie Mu Er's thirty‑thousand troops have already surrendered ten‑thousand, and the rest are being controlled."

In an instant, even the sound of breathing grew faint, and the hall fell into a dead silence.

The officials of the Timur Empire each had faces ashen as death.

Those foreign envoys had eyes full of awe and fear.

Tie Mu Er himself was slumped helplessly on the throne.

Zhu Yong turned around and looked at the foreign envoys.

"Envoys, I have caused you alarm."

His voice was very calm, even carrying a hint of simple honesty.

But at this moment, no one dared to underestimate him.

Zhu Yong looked at Tie Mu Er again.

"His Majesty Tie Mu Er, now, may we have a proper discussion?"

Tie Mu Er opened his mouth with difficulty, forcing out a single word.

"C… can…"

Zhu Yong nodded, then made a move that no one had expected.

He walked over and sat on Tie Mu Er's throne.

He sat in the seat that symbolized the highest authority of the Timur Empire.

The Timur Empire's officials widened their eyes, but no one dared to speak.

Tie Mu Er himself stood aside, his face ashen, yet also dared not speak.

Zhu Yong leaned against the throne, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the hall.

"I, the Prince, have come today to ask only one thing."

His voice echoed throughout the hall.

"For three years you have not paid tribute; who gave you the nerve?"

The hall was so quiet one could hear a needle drop.

No one dared to answer.

The foreign envoys held their breath, daring not to exhale.

The setting sun streamed in through the windows, dyeing the entire hall a blood‑red.

The dusk of Sama Erhan arrived just like that.

And this once haughty city, at this moment, finally bowed its proud head.