Chapter 316: Is That a Human?

The setting sun's afterglow streamed through the high windows into the great hall, dyeing the entire palace a deep crimson.

Zhu Yong sat on Tie Mu Er's throne, his right hand resting on the armrest, his left hand on his knee, relaxed in posture yet exuding a majesty that made others dare not meet his gaze.

The hall was dead silent.

Tie Mu Er stood beside the throne, his face ashen, his lips trembling slightly.

He had lived over fifty years, fought wars for forty, conquered countless lands from India to the Caucasus, and no one had ever dared treat him this way.

But now, he could only stand, watching others sit upon his own throne.

The officials of the Timur Empire knelt on the ground, daring not to lift their heads.

Someone stole a glance at the young man on the throne, then hurriedly lowered his head again.

In that instant, they saw a pair of calm eyes.

No smugness, no arrogance, nothing at all.

Like a bottomless pool of water.

That calm was more frightening than any hubris.

The foreign envoys still stood in place, but their legs trembled.

They came from different nations: the Ottoman Empire, the Kingdom of Portugal, the Khin Khanate, the Delhi Sultanate…

Each was once a prominent figure in their own country, having been dispatched to countless lands and witnessed countless grand scenes.

But at this moment, they were all stunned.

A Portuguese envoy, named Pei De Luo, stood there, his mind a blank.

He was sent by King João I of Portugal, his mission to assess the Timur Empire's reality and see if trade relations could be established.

He had been here three months, met Tie Mu Er three times, each time crushed by the crippled conqueror's aura to the point of breathlessness.

But now…

The once haughty Tie Mu Er stood aside like a child who had erred.

And the young man on the throne, merely sitting there, made everyone too afraid to speak.

"God! Who is this person?" Pei De Luo whispered silently in his mind.

Beside him, the Ottoman Empire's envoy Mu Si Ta Fa was even more panicked.

The Ottoman Empire and the Timur Empire were ancient enemies; a few years ago Tie Mu Er had nearly struck their capital.

This time Tie Mu Er suddenly sent envoys to the Ottomans, claiming to "form an alliance," and Sultan Ba Ye Ji De Yi Shi knew full well that the crippled man harbored no good intentions.

So Mu Si Ta Fa came, with dozens of attendants, hoping to probe the Timur Empire's reality.

But now…

"Great Ming… what kind of country is that?" he muttered repeatedly in his mind.

He looked at Zhu Yong on the throne, then at the soldiers clad in iron armor wielding strange weapons, his fear growing wildly like untamed grass.

The Timur Empire was already mighty enough, sweeping across Central Asia, unmatched by any.

Yet this Great Ming seized Samarkand with only three thousand men.

Three thousand men…

What does that even mean?

Mu Si Ta Fa dared not think further.

He only knew that from today onward, the world was about to change.

……

Outside the hall, the shouts and cries of battle had completely subsided.

In their place came orderly footfalls.

It was the Longxiang Army on patrol.

Each step, iron boots struck the stone slabs, emitting a muffled thud.

Dum—dum—dum…

Like a heartbeat.

The townsfolk hid inside their houses, daring not to breathe a word.

Behind those windows, countless eyes stared outward.

The streets were filled with soldiers in iron armor, marching in squads, so orderly it seemed measured with a ruler.

Their weapons were oddly shaped—some resembled spears but shorter; others looked like bows yet even stranger.

No one dared to go out.

The Timur Empire's soldiers now crouched in several city squares, overseen by members of the Longxiang Army.

They had been disarmed, each hanging their heads in dejection.

Someone whispered to the companion beside them, "Those people… who are they?"

The companion shook his head, "Don't know, but… it's terrifying."

"We have thirty thousand, they only have three thousand."

"Three thousand what? Didn't you see? When they charged in, we had no time to react."

"What are those fire‑spitting sticks?"

"Don't know…"

"Did you see those two huge hammers? The one the man in dark robes was carrying."

"Saw them… that big, must be a few hundred jin, right?"

"A few hundred jin? I heard a captive say the two hammers together weigh twelve hundred jin."

"Twelve hundred jin…"

"Speak softer…"

The person inhaled a cold breath and dared not ask further.

One thousand two hundred jin.

What does this mean…

The bravest warriors they have seen could wield a hundred‑jin Wolf Fang Club, already possessing immense strength.

One thousand two hundred jin…

Is that a person?

……

Inside the palace…

Zhu Yong sat on Tie Mu Er's throne, his gaze calmly sweeping over the crowd inside the hall.

Tie Mu Er stood aside, his complexion iron‑blue, his right leg trembling slightly from unstable footing.

Several of his sons who had not gone out were forced by Longxiang Army soldiers to kneel on the ground, each with a face ashen as death.

The Civil and Military Officials of the Timur Empire dared not even breathe, heads lowered, as if wishing to bury their heads in their chests.

Only the foreign envoys managed to keep a semblance of composure, yet the fear in their eyes could not be concealed.

Zhang Wu strode into the hall and knelt on one knee.

"Prince, the city has been fully secured."

He paused, then continued to report: "Tie Mu Er's thirty‑thousand garrison, twelve thousand surrendered, of the remaining eighteen thousand, two thousand fell in battle, the rest were all captured.

All the palace guards surrendered, none escaped."

Zhu Yong nodded and looked at Tie Mu Er.

"Thirty‑thousand troops, gone so quickly—His Majesty Tie Mu Er, your army seems rather ineffective."

Tie Mu Er's face darkened further, yet he could not utter a single word.

What could he say…

That his soldiers were useless? Or that Great Ming's army was too strong…

Outside the hall, the shouts and killings had completely ceased.

In their place came orderly footfalls and occasional commands.

It was the Longxiang Army taking over the city's defenses.

Zhu Yong stood up, walked to the main hall's doorway, and looked outward.

The setting sun turned the whole Sa Ma Er Han a blood‑red hue.

On the city wall, Great Ming's banner had already been hoisted atop the highest watchtower.

A red field, a golden dragon, rustling in the evening breeze.

On the Street inside the city, squads of Longxiang Army soldiers were patrolling.

The common folk of the Timur Empire hid behind doors and windows, peeking out secretly.

Some shivered, some wept, some whispered prayers.

Zhu Yong turned and walked back into the hall.

His gaze fell upon the foreign envoys.

"Everyone, you were startled just now."

Those Portuguese envoys were the first to regain their senses.

The leading one, about forty years old, wore a dark long robe and sported neatly trimmed beard.

He stepped forward and, in halting Persian, said: "Honorable Great Ming Prince, we are envoys of the Kingdom of Portugal, sent by our king to pay homage to His Majesty… no, to pay homage…"

He paused, unsure how to address the current situation.

Zhu Yong looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"Portugal, this king knows, you are far to the west, by the sea, your shipbuilding is fine, and in recent years you have been exploring outward."

The Portuguese envoy was stunned.

He did not expect that this Prince far in the east would know Portugal.

And know it so clearly.