Chapter 355: Victory

At dawn the next day, before sunrise, Zhu Yong awoke.

He stood up and stretched his muscles.

In the distant horizon, a faint dark‑yellow line could already be seen.

It was the dust of a 150,000‑strong army.

"Send the order down, the whole army form up."

Fifty thousand Longxiang Army rose in unison, adjusting armor and checking weapons.

Zhu Yong flipped onto his horse, drew a short sword, and pointed its tip westward.

"Longxiang Army, follow this king and break the enemy!"

Fifty thousand voices roared, "Kill!"

The troops set out.

No drums, no banners, only silent cavalry and silent warhorses.

Hooves struck the Gobi plain, raising clouds of dust.

After about a hour's march, a black, oppressive army appeared ahead.

One hundred fifty thousand men spread over the land like a dark cloud pressing down.

Zhu Yong halted his horse and squinted. Ottomans were in the center, Mamluks on the left wing, Jin camp remnants on the right wing.

The formation was tight and disciplined.

"Not foolish, keep close," he said with a slight curl of his mouth, turning to glance at the Longxiang Army behind him.

He squeezed the horse's belly, the warhorse whinnied, and surged forward.

Fifty thousand Longxiang Army followed tightly, like a drawn bow released toward that black sea.

The allied forces opposite clearly did not expect the Ming army to take the initiative.

They thought that fifty thousand against 150,000 meant the Ming army would surely hunker inside the city to defend.

Yet this Ming army dared to charge directly at the 150,000‑strong formation.

The Ottomans' ranks became somewhat disordered.

Front‑line archers fumbled to draw bows and nock arrows, while rear spearmen hurriedly formed their lines.

But it was too late.

Zhu Yong had already surged to the front of the formation.

With his left hand he drew a drum‑pot golden hammer, and with his right he swung another; the Double Hammers came out together, smashing the front‑line archers.

"Boom!"

The hammerhead struck a man, shattering his sternum instantly; the body flew out, toppling three men behind him.

The other hammer swept sideways, sending another four or five people flying.

Fresh blood spurted, and cries of agony rose everywhere.

Zhu Yong's horse kept its speed as he charged into the ranks.

The Double Hammers arced left and right; each strike took a life.

No fancy technique—just the simplest smash, sweep, and swing.

Yet that simplest motion was unstoppable.

The hammers were so heavy that a hit meant death, a graze meant maiming.

The Ottomans' curved swords and spears were like paper before the hammers—break at the slightest touch.

Zhu Yong alone cut a bloody path.

Behind him, fifty thousand Longxiang Army.

They followed Zhu Yong's trail, surged into the ranks, firing Flintlock Guns in unison and hacking with sabers.

The Ottomans' formation was ripped open by those fifty thousand.

Inside the Central Command Tent, Ottoman Sultan Ba Ye Ji De Yi Shi watched the scene, his face ashen.

He had not expected the Ming army to take the initiative.

He never imagined fifty thousand could break through his vanguard.

"Send the order: left wing encircle, right wing converge, trap those fifty thousand!" he barked.

The messenger waved flags, delivering the command to both wings.

Mamluk cavalry began pressing toward the center, and Jin camp remnants' cavalry started flanking around.

Zhu Yong saw it.

A slight curl formed at his mouth; this was the moment he had waited for.

"Zhang Wu! Left wing! Chen Heng! Right wing! Hold the line for me!"

Zhang Wuhe and Chen Heng each led ten thousand Longxiang Army, confronting the Mamluks and the Jin camp remnants respectively.

Zhu Yong himself led the remaining thirty thousand, pressing toward the central army.

Ba Ye Ji De's expression grew even worse.

Fifty thousand still dared to split forces? He clearly didn't consider him a threat.

"Send the order: central army press forward, capture that leading Ming general!"

The central army moved.

Five thousand elite cavalry surged toward Zhu Yong like a tide.

Zhu Yong looked at the black, oppressive cavalry and smiled.

He flipped off his horse, hefting the Double Hammers, and walked toward the five thousand riders.

The five thousand riders' iron hooves made the ground tremble.

Zhu Yong, alone, just walked, neither fast nor slow.

Nearer.

Hundred Steps.

Fifty Steps.

Thirty Steps.

Zhu Yong suddenly accelerated, the Double Hammers rose and smashed toward the foremost horse.

"Boom!"

The warhorse let out a mournful whinny, and both rider and horse flew out, toppling several horses behind.

Zhu Yong did not stop, the hammers arced left and right, each hammer taking a life.

Five thousand cavalry were blocked by him alone, while the rest of the Longxiang Army had already begun to resist other enemies.

Those Ottoman soldiers had never seen such a monster.

One man, two hammers, standing there, no one could pass.

One hammer struck down, rider and horse smashed into mush. A sweeping hammer sent five or six people flying.

No one could block a single move of his, no one could make him retreat a step.

Baye Jide's hand began to tremble.

Baye Jide had fought wars all his life, never seen anyone like this.

Five thousand elite were blocked in their path by one man.

"Send word, retreat, quickly retreat!"

He was scared.

Not scared of the fifty thousand Longxiang Army, but of that man.

But it was too late.

Left Wing, Zhang Wu had already shattered the Mamluk cavalry.

Right Wing, Chen Heng also scattered the Jin camp remnants.

Central Command, Zhu Yong alone, pierced through the formation of five thousand cavalry, heading straight for the Central Command Tent.

Baye Jide watched the blood‑soaked figure draw nearer, his legs went weak.

He turned and fled, forgetting even to ride his horse.

Zhu Yong chased up to the Central Command Tent, and with one hammer knocked over the flag in front of the tent.

That flag embroidered with a crescent and a curved blade fell with a crash.

One hundred fifty thousand troops were utterly defeated.

The army fell like a mountain collapsing.

Ottoman, Mamluk, Jin camp people, each caring only for themselves, all fled.

Zhu Yong stood before the Central Command Tent, watching the scattered allied forces, wiping the blood from his face.

His body was covered in blood, but not his own.

Zhang Wu rode over, face beaming: "Prince, we have won! One hundred fifty thousand troops, routed!"

Zhu Yong nodded, slinging the hammer back onto his horse: "Send word, pursue for a hundred li, capture as many as possible."

"Yes!"

Fifty thousand Longxiang Army began the pursuit.

The routed soldiers were everywhere, the fast ones vanished, the slow ones knelt and surrendered.

Zhu Yong did not chase. He sat on the chair in the Central Command Tent, looking at the wreckage on the ground.

Chen Heng came over, handed a pot of water and said: "Prince, are you injured?"

Zhu Yong shook his head: "No."

Chen Heng looked at his blood‑stained clothes, swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

One man, pierced through the formation of five thousand cavalry, with not a single wound on his body.

What kind of monster is this?

"Prince, what do we do next?" Chen Heng asked.

Zhu Yong took a sip of water and said: "Gather the men and horses, head west. Since they came, we won't let them leave."

Chen Heng was startled: "Prince, should we charge through?"

Zhu Yong glanced at him: "Since they dared to come, they must learn that Great Ming's swords are long enough."

That afternoon, three thousand Longxiang Army finished forming and continued westward.

Zhu Yong rode his horse, turned back to glance east.

There lay the direction of the Yingtian Prefecture.

Father and elder brother probably still don't know a battle is being fought here.

By the time they receive the battle report, at least a month will have passed.

By then, the war will already be over.

A faint smile curled at his mouth, he turned his horse westward.

Behind him, fifty thousand Longxiang Army followed closely, disappearing into the depths of the Gobi.