Chapter 324: Blood Battle of Samarchan

…

Outside the city, Zhou Da Niu crouched in the trench, watching the Timur Empire soldiers fall batch after batch, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Are you stupid? This is Great Ming's strength."

A new recruit beside him whispered, "Brother Zhou, when do we charge out?"

Zhou Da Niu glared at him and said, "Charge what? The Prince has ordered us to stay here and wait; once they can't push forward, we'll go out to reap."

The recruit nodded and kept crouching.

…

On the city wall, A Qizi watched the scene, his legs trembling.

He wasn't afraid; he was shocked.

Seventy thousand people!

Just like that, three thousand of them beat them so badly they couldn't lift their heads.

Those Longxiang Army soldiers never moved an inch from start to finish.

They just stood there, firing shot after shot.

Each shot brought someone down.

Timur Empire soldiers, without even reaching the city wall, had already lost tens of thousands.

What kind of combat power is this…

He suddenly recalled the battle three days ago.

Back then he thought the three thousand taking Samarchan was due to a surprise attack, catching them off guard.

Now he knows.

Even if they fought head‑on, they still couldn't win.

Three thousand versus thirty thousand, they can't win.

Three thousand versus seventy thousand, still can't win.

Those Longxiang Army fighters aren't even human.

They're monsters.

He glanced furtively at Zhu Yong, who was standing not far away.

The man in a dark princely robe had been standing on the city tower unmoving since the battle began.

His face showed no expression; he just stared like that.

It was as if those seventy thousand outside the city weren't enemies, just a swarm of ants.

A Qizi shivered and dared not look further.

…

Outside the city, Jia Han Ji Er finally couldn't hold on.

Seventy thousand, almost half were dead.

The remaining ones had lost all fighting spirit.

Those soldiers, looking at the iron‑clad troops on the wall, were filled with terror.

They no longer wanted to fight.

They wanted to run.

Jia Han Ji Er clenched his teeth and stared at the distant city wall.

Father Han is inside.

The capital is inside.

But he can't charge in.

"Retreat…"

He finally gave the order.

The remaining over thirty thousand soldiers, as if granted a pardon, turned and fled.

Routing.

Total rout.

…

On the city tower, Zhu Yong watched the fleeing Timur soldiers, a slight smile curling his lips.

"Send word: Longxiang Army, exit the city and pursue."

"Yes…"

Three thousand Longxiang Army troops opened the city gate and charged out.

They rode horses, chasing the fleeing Timur soldiers, killing them all the way.

Another few thousand died on the road of escape.

When Jia Han Ji Er led the remnants back to the Military Camp, of the hundred thousand army, only a little over twenty thousand remained.

One battle, a loss of seventy thousand.

The news spread, and the whole Samarchan trembled.

The townsfolk hid in their houses, listening to the outside commotion, daring not to breathe.

They knew the battle outside the city had ended.

Great Ming won.

Thirty thousand versus one hundred thousand, Great Ming won.

What does that even mean?

No one dares to think.

The officials of the Timur Empire were locked in a side hall, listening to the sounds outside, their faces pallid.

They knew that from today onward, everything had changed.

The sky of the Timur Empire collapsed.

……

Outside the city, on the battlefield, corpses lay scattered everywhere.

Fresh blood stained the Gobi sands red, and the air was thick with a heavy scent of blood.

The soldiers of the Longxiang Army were cleaning the battlefield, gathering weapons, and treating the wounded.

Zhu Yong stood on the city tower, gazing at the ruined battlefield in the distance, silent for a long while.

Guanyin Nu walked to his side and said softly, "Prince, we won."

Zhu Yong nodded and took her hand.

"We won."

Zhu Huanhuan and Zhu QiongJiong also ran up to the city tower, crouching on the battlements to look out.

Zhu QiongJiong stared at the mass of corpses in the distance, his eyes bulging.

"Dad, so many people died."

Zhu Yong lowered his head, looked at his son, and said calmly, "War is like this: either you die, or I live."

Zhu QiongJiong nodded, half‑understanding.

Zhu Huanhuan stood beside her father, silent, only watching the distance.

She suddenly recalled the stories her father used to tell her when she was young.

Stories of war.

Back then she didn't understand why war caused deaths.

Now she understands.

But she doesn't want to understand.

……

Outside the city, Zhou Da Niu led the engineers' battalion, handling those corpses.

Digging pits, burying bodies.

Thousands of corpses will take a long time to bury.

But there's no choice; if left unburied, plague will arise.

A young engineer, while digging, whispered, "Brother Zhou, did we win?"

Zhou Da Niu glared at him and said, "Obviously, didn't you see those Timur people fleeing?"

The young engineer grinned, "As long as we won, that's good, as long as we won."

Zhou Da Niu shook his head and kept digging.

He had fought for over a decade, never having a battle so easy.

Three thousand against one hundred thousand, almost no casualties.

No one would believe it if he said it.

But that's the fact.

……

At dusk, the setting sun turned the entire battlefield a blood‑red.

The Longxiang Army finished cleaning the battlefield and withdrew into the city.

At the city gate, A Qizi led those five thousand surrendered troops, kneeling to welcome Zhu Yong into the city.

They saw the battle with their own eyes.

They saw Great Ming's strength with their own eyes.

From today onward, they dare not be double‑crossing.

Zhu Yong rode his horse, passing in front of them.

His gaze swept over them, and he said calmly, "Get up, and from now on work properly."

A Qizi looked up, staring at the man on the horse.

The setting sun shone on him, giving him a golden rim.

In that moment, A Qizi suddenly felt that this man truly was a god.

He bowed his head heavily and struck his forehead.

"Yes!"

……

In the palace, Timur was locked in a side hall, listening to the sounds outside.

He heard cannon fire, explosions, and shouts of killing.

Then, everything fell silent.

He didn't know what had happened outside.

But he knew the battle was over.

The door opened.

Zhu Yong walked in.

Timur lifted his head, looking at the young man.

His clothes were spotless, not a drop of blood on them.

It's like I just went out for a walk and have just returned.

"Jiahanjier was defeated," Zhu Yong said lightly.

Tie Mu Er closed his eyes and said nothing.

He had guessed it long ago.

One hundred thousand troops, three thousand Longxiang Army.

Anyone else would think the hundred thousand are certain to win.

But he knows that young man cannot be measured by ordinary logic.

"Is he dead?" Tie Mu Er asked.

"No, he fled, taking over twenty thousand people, heading west."

Tie Mu Er was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Prince, what exactly are you?"

Zhu Yong looked at him and smiled.

"Great Ming, Wu King, Zhu Yong."

Tie Mu Er shook his head and said, "I'm not asking that; I'm asking, what exactly are you?"

Zhu Yong was stunned for a moment, then smiled even wider.

"Your guess?"

Tie Mu Er did not guess.

He lowered his head and said nothing further.

Zhu Yong turned and walked away.

Reaching the doorway, he suddenly halted, turned back, and gave Tie Mu Er a glance.

"Stay put for a few days; I'll send you back to Great Ming to meet my Imperial Father."

Tie Mu Er lifted his head, his eyes filled with complexity.

Great Ming.

The country he once dismissed with contempt.

Now, he must go to that country as a captive.

At night, Samarchan was unusually quiet.

The townsfolk hid inside their houses, daring not to go out.

Those officials of the Timur Empire were locked in a side hall, sleepless through the night.

Longxiang Army soldiers patrolled the city walls, occasionally uttering a few words.

Zhu Yong stood by the palace bedroom window, gazing at the night outside.

Guanyin Nu came over and draped a cloak over him.

"Prince, aren't you sleeping yet?"

Zhu Yong shook his head and said, "Can't sleep, just thinking about things."

Guanyin Nu stood beside him and whispered, "What are you thinking about?"

Zhu Yong was silent for a moment, then slowly said, "I'm wondering, after this battle is over, how many more battles remain to be fought."

Guanyin Nu looked at him without speaking.

She knew her husband was contemplating future wars.

The things the Prince was thinking of were beyond her understanding.

But she knew that wherever the Prince went, she would follow.

A family together is all that matters.

Outside the window, Moonlight was like water.

In the distance, a faint wind could be heard.

Samarchan's night was so quiet it made people uneasy.

Yet behind this calm, a new storm was brewing.

Jiahanjier fled, taking over twenty thousand people, heading west.

He will return.

The Timur Empire's forces elsewhere will also return.

Three hundred thousand troops won't just be dismissed like that.

But Zhu Yong is not afraid.

He has never been afraid.

Because he knows that no matter how many enemies come, he can win.

Three thousand against a hundred thousand, and they won.

Three thousand against three hundred thousand, they can still win.

He turned, looked at Guanyin Nu, and smiled.

"Go to sleep! There's more to do tomorrow."

Guanyin Nu nodded and followed him to the bedside.

The candle flame went out.

The night grew deeper.