Chapter 367: Constantinople

The nineteenth year of Hongwu, May 14th.

Outside Constantinople, eighty thousand Ming troops formed a continuous camp stretching dozens of li.

The setting sun dyed the entire thousand‑year‑old city a deep red; the cross flags and star‑and‑moon flags on the walls fluttered interlaced, and the ramparts were packed densely with defenders.

Zhu Yong stood on a small hill, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the towering city in the distance.

It was the third day.

Three days earlier, after seizing the Gallipoli Peninsula, the main army crossed the sea to this spot.

The Ottomans pulled back all their forces, besieging Constantinople like an iron barrel.

"Prince, the city holds roughly eighty thousand defenders, the walls are three layers, the outer wall forty chi high, the inner wall sixty chi high, with a thirty‑chi‑wide passage in between.

Outside the walls there is a ditch sixty chi wide and thirty chi deep, filled with seawater," Zhang Wuhe unfolded a freshly drawn enemy map.

Zhu Yong nodded.

Constantinople, the world's foremost mighty city.

In a thousand years it has been besieged twenty‑three times, yet breached only twice.

One breach occurred during the Fourth Crusade, the other a hundred and twenty years ago.

Each time it fell because of internal strife, not by brute assault.

"What about the reinforcements from Europe?" he asked.

Chen Heng replied, "Serbians, Bulgarians and Wallachians, forty thousand in total, have crossed the Danube and are hurrying this way; they can arrive in as little as ten days."

Zhu Yong's mouth twitched upward slightly.

Ten days. Enough.

"Send the order: assault the city tomorrow."

He turned and walked down the hill, his voice as flat as if he were merely stating tomorrow's breakfast.

Zhang Wuhe and Chen Heng exchanged a glance, each seeing excitement in the other's eyes.

Having fought alongside the Prince for over a decade, they felt this battle, once finished, would truly reach the heavens.

Inside the Central Command Tent, Zhu Di was squatting on the ground, drawing a siege map.

Zhu Qiong Jiong squatted beside him, a charcoal pencil clenched in his hand, sketching something on the map.

When Zhu Yong entered, the two rose.

"Second Prince, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Zhu Di asked.

Zhu Yong walked to the sand table, his gaze sweeping over the miniature city.

"Place rear‑mounted line‑of‑sight cannons on the north bank of Jin Jiao Bay to bombard the outer wall.

Longxiang Army will fill the ditch and set up Ladder.

Yan Army will feint an attack at the South Gate to tie down their troops."

Zhu Di frowned, "The outer wall is easy to breach, but the inner wall—it's sixty chi high; ladders won't reach it."

Zhu Yong gave no answer, turning to Zhu Qiong Jiong, "Did you go down to the city today?"

Zhu Qiong Jiong's eyes lit up, "I did, Father. I crouched by the ditch all afternoon; the outer wall has three sections that are long‑neglected. In the southeast corner, the brick joints are overgrown with grass—just a few cannon shots and it will collapse.

The wall near the South Gate is sturdy, but the gate is wooden, sheathed in Reinforced Iron, and has been that way for many years."

Zhu Yong nodded.

An eleven‑year‑old, crouching under the enemy city all afternoon, could still recount everything coherently upon return.

This kid is born for war.

"Got it: the wooden gate wrapped in Reinforced Iron is old; the iron has rusted and the wood has rotted," Zhu Yong told Zhu Di.

Zhu Di was startled, then realized, "You intend to blast the gate?"

"The inner wall is high, ladders can't reach it, but the gate allows passage. Once the outer wall is breached, we fill the ditch, then set up artillery to bombard the inner gate.

Rear‑mounted line‑of‑sight cannons can fire accurately from three li away, blasting a gate open—enough for our needs."

Zhu Di's eyes brightened.

Zhu Di recalled Kaiping City, Helin City, Fan City, Ankara… each of those cities would crumble in less than three days before the Second Prince.

"Tomorrow I'll lead men to fill the ditch," Zhu Di volunteered.

Zhu Yong shook his head, "You take the Yan Army to feint at the South Gate, drawing their troops away; the ditch, I'll fill."

Zhu Di opened his mouth, then swallowed his words. He remembered how, years ago beneath Kaiping City, the Second Prince alone shouldered a battering ram against a gate. After a decade‑plus, the temperament remained.

"Then I'm going too!" Zhu Qiong Jiong leapt up.

Zhu Yong lowered his head, looking at his son, "What are you going to do?"

"Fill the ditch! Fight!" Zhu Qiong Jiong clenched his fists; the eleven‑year‑old's eyes shone like twin flames.

Zhu Yong stared at his son, silent for a moment.

This kid has killed before, even earlier than his own first time on the battlefield.

"Stay with me, and don't stray far."

Zhu Qiong Jiong nodded vigorously.

Night had deepened.

Zhu Yong sat in the Central Command Tent, a map spread before him, a charcoal pencil clenched in his hand, marking tomorrow's attack routes on it.

The tent curtain lifted, and Zhu Qiong Jiong slipped in, carrying the Wolf Fang Club.

"Father, aren't you sleeping?"

"Can't sleep. Why aren't you sleeping either?"

"I can't sleep either," Zhu Qiong Jiong sat beside his father, the Wolf Fang Club resting on his lap, and asked, "Father, after we take Constantinople, will we march west?"

Zhu Yong set down the pencil, looking at his son, "You want to march west?"

Zhu Qiongjiong nodded and said, "Fifth uncle said that beyond Constantinople lies Europe; over there are many countries, such as the Franks, England, the Holy Roman Empire."

"Father, can we fight all the way to England?"

Zhu Yong smiled.

This kid's appetite is even bigger than his back then.

"We can, but not now; after we capture Constantinople, we must rest. This area is too large, we have to govern it slowly."

Zhu Qiongjiong nodded thoughtfully and asked, "Father, do you think England is as big as our Great Ming?"

"No. But it's not small either."

"Are the people over there formidable?"

"Not particularly. But they are many, the distance is far, to attack we must cross the sea, and the ships will take a long time."

Zhu Qiongjiong thought for a moment, then grinned, "No problem, once I finish training this club, I'll go fight for you."

Zhu Yong looked at his son, and a strange feeling suddenly rose in his heart.

This child resembles him, yet not entirely. He had joined the army back then just to have enough to eat; this child was born in Wang Fu, lacking nothing, yet is innately drawn to the battlefield.

"Alright, when you grow up, you'll help father fight."

Zhu Qiongjiong nodded vigorously, leaned on his father's shoulder, and fell asleep after a short while.

Zhu Yong lowered his head, looked at his son, reached out, lifted him, and placed him back onto the marching cot beside him.

At the same time, in Yingtian Fu thousands of miles away, dawn had not yet broken.

Zhu Yuanzhang was already up.

He stood at the window of Qianqing Palace, looking toward the western sky.

In the distance, the faint roar of steam cars could be heard, and the Ministry of Works was testing vehicles at the crack of dawn.

"Zhong Ba, up this early?" Empress Ma walked over, wrapped in an outer coat.

"Couldn't sleep; over at Yong Er's side, we should be attacking Constantinople." Zhu Yuanzhang turned, sat down on a chair, and said.

Empress Ma paused and asked, "So soon?"

"It's not fast; we captured the Gallipoli Peninsula half a month ago, crossed the sea, troops are at the city gates, that kid fights—when will he ever be slow?"

Empress Ma was silent for a moment, then said softly, "That child has never been easy to worry about since he was young."

Zhu Yuanzhang hummed and said, "It's better to be troublesome; those who are easygoing can't seize such a vast territory."

He stood up and walked to the World Map hanging on the wall.

It was the World Map that Yong Er presented in the Hongwu Third Year.

From Yingtian Fu westward, it was drawn all the way to Europe, to Constantinople.

Further west are the Franks, England, and across the sea, America.

Outside the city of Yingtian Fu, at the construction site, workers had already begun work.

The railway from Yingtian to Lanzhou was built up to Xi'an by the end of last year, and this spring it will be extended to Lanzhou.

At this pace, it will reach Lanzhou by next summer.

Zhu Biao stood on the construction site, looking at the section of track already laid.

The steel rails glimmered silver in the morning light, the sleepers were perfectly aligned, stretching beyond sight.

In another year, a train will be able to go directly from Yingtian to Lanzhou.

From Lanzhou to the Western Regions, from the Western Regions to Sa Ma Er Han, from Sa Ma Er Han to Constantinople… someday this railway will be built to my second brother's feet.

"Prince, the Ministry of Works just sent a report." An official jogged over, handing a document.

Zhu Biao took it and unfolded it.

The report said that cement production had doubled compared to last year, and steel rail output had also increased.

The railway from Yingtian to Lanzhou is expected to be fully connected by June next year.

He closed the report, looked up at the western sky.

Second brother, when you return, you'll be able to ride the train.

Outside Constantinople, before dawn, eighty thousand Great Ming troops had already begun forming ranks.

Longxiang Army was at the front, the Yan army on the left, the artillery battalion on the right.

Rear‑mounted line‑of‑sight cannons were lined up in a row, their muzzles aimed at Constantinople's outer city wall.

Zhu Yong rode at the front, two Double Hammers hung on his horse's back, glinting dark‑gold in the morning light.

Zhu Qiongjiong rode a reddish‑brown horse, following behind his father, with a Wolf Fang Club slung over his shoulder.

The eleven‑year‑old boy stood upright, his eyes shining terrifyingly bright.

This was his second time on the battlefield, but it felt completely different.

The first time he charged with his fifth uncle; this time he followed his father. He felt no fear at all.

On the city wall, the Ottoman defenders had already spotted the approaching army.

Horn Sound rose from all directions, soldiers surged out of the barracks, archers drew their bows and nocked arrows, spearmen gripped their spears, and the catapults began loading.

Baye Jide stood on the highest tower, looking at the sea of iron armor outside the city, his face a shade of iron blue.

After being captured, he had been kept in Bursa City; the Great Ming troops did not mistreat him, gave him food and drink, and he was more comfortable than in the palace.

But he knew that once Constantinople fell, the Ottoman Empire would truly be finished.

"Send the order: the whole army must hold to the death!" he shouted hoarsely.

Zhu Yong halted his horse, stopping three Hundred Steps from the trench.

He looked up at the city wall.