Chapter 376: Piercing Through

Zhu Yong did not move.

He just rode his horse, brandishing his hammer, watching the black, oppressive army surge forward.

Three hundred steps.

Two hundred steps.

One hundred steps.

"Fire!" On the city wall, three hundred cannons equipped with breech‑loading guns fired simultaneously.

Shrapnel shells sliced the air, trailing long tails, smashing into the allied troops' crowd.

Explosion after explosion rose, bricks and stones shattered, smoke and dust billowed skyward.

The infantry at the front were blown apart, men and horses flailing, severed limbs soaring into the air.

One round of cannon fire knocked down at least two thousand people.

But the hundred‑thousand army was too massive; those in front fell, those behind kept charging.

Zhu Yong raised his right‑handed hammer and said, "Longxiang Army, charge with me."

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

Three thousand Longxiang Army roared in unison, hooves thundering like muffled thunder, tightly following behind.

Zhu Yong charged at the front, wielding his Double Hammers left and right.

An Ottoman cavalryman charged forward, his spear thrust toward Zhu Yong's chest.

He smashed the spear shaft with one hammer, and struck the horse's head with the other.

The warhorse whined and fell, the rider was flung off, his neck broken.

Another Serbian infantryman raised his shield in front; Zhu Yong hammered down, shattering the shield, the man's arm snapped, his scream cut off, and the second hammer already struck his head.

The third, the fourth, the fifth…

He alone pierced through the vanguard of ten thousand men.

Behind him, three thousand Longxiang Army followed his path, firing Flintlock Guns in unison, slashing with sabers.

The Ottoman vanguard was ripped open by these three thousand into a huge gap.

Mu La De watched from behind, his face ashen.

He had heard this man was formidable, but did not expect him to be this great.

One man, two hammers, a formation of ten thousand could not stop him.

"Send word, flank from both wings, surround him!" he shouted hoarsely.

The cavalry on both wings moved.

Serbian troops charged from the left wing, Hungarian troops flanked from the right, trying to trap Zhu Yong in the middle.

Zhu Yong held his horse, watching the cavalry surge from both sides, a slight curl at the corner of his mouth.

This was the moment he had waited for. He drew a small flag from his chest and waved it toward the city wall.

On the city wall, Zhu Di saw the flag, his eyes brightening as he said, "Fire the cannons, strike the two wings!"

The three hundred breech‑loading cannons swivelled their barrels, aiming at the cavalry charging from both wings.

Shrapnel shells fell into the crowd, exploding into clouds of blood mist.

The Serbian cavalry were blown into chaos, men and horses flailing, formation in disarray.

The Hungarians fared no better; the few hundred at the front were obliterated by a round of cannon fire, the ones behind held their horses, unsure whether to advance or retreat.

Zhu Yong did not stop.

He turned his horse's head, leading three thousand Longxiang Army to charge straight at the allied central army.

Mu La De, in the Central Command Tent, watched the blood‑soaked figure draw nearer, his legs growing weak.

He had fought wars half his life, never having seen anyone like this.

One man, two hammers, a formation of a hundred thousand could not stop him.

"Retreat, quickly retreat!" He turned his horse's head and fled backward.

The Marshal's banner fell, the central army fell into chaos.

The hundred‑thousand army, the front unaware of what the rear faced, the rear unaware of what the front fought, each fighting on their own, a tangled mess.

Zhu Qiong Jiong burst from the ranks, seized a Serbian war flag, smashed the guard with a hammer, grabbed the flagpole and yanked it hard.

Cut down generals, seize flags, break formations, be the first to ascend.

He alone claimed all four great battle merits.

The twelve‑year‑old boy, drenched in blood, blood dripping from his Wolf Fang Club, eyes shining terrifyingly.

When the sun rose overhead, the battle ended.

The battlefield was littered with corpses, discarded flags and weapons everywhere.

The Ottomans fled, the Serbians fled, the Hungarians also fled.

Of the hundred‑thousand army, over twenty thousand died, more than thirty thousand were captured, the rest scattered across the hills.

Mu La De ran the fastest, not even having time to retrieve the Marshal's banner.

Zhu Yong held his horse, slung the hammer back onto his saddle, and wiped the blood from his face.

His body was covered in blood, but it wasn't his.

Zhu Di rode in, his face excited, saying, "Second Prince, we've won! The hundred‑thousand army has broken!"

Zhu Yong nodded and said, "Send word, pursue fifty li; capture as many as you can."

Zhu Di took the order and left.

Zhu Yong sat on a large stone, watching the soldiers clean the battlefield.

Prisoner after prisoner was marched in, heads hung low.

Weapons piled into small hills, Grain and Fodder carts and loads were everywhere.

Zhu Gaochi came out of the city, riding a small horse, with a few junior officials following behind.

He dismounted, walked up to Zhu Yong, and performed a proper salute: "Second Uncle."

Zhu Yong looked at him and asked, "Are you afraid?"

Zhu Gaochi shook his head and said, "Not afraid."

"Then why are you here?"

"Cleaning the battlefield, counting the captives, settling the wounded—these tasks need someone to do them." Zhu Gaochi's voice remained steady and unhurried.

Zhu Yong looked at him for a moment, nodded, and said, "Go ahead!"

Zhu Gaochi led those junior officials and began counting the captives.

He was young, but efficient; his questioning was orderly and logical. He asked which nation, how many people, what unit, how much Grain and Fodder remained, clarified each point, and recorded it in a notebook.

The captives stared at the pale, chubby child, and were somewhat stunned.

Zhu Qiong Jiong hoisted the Wolf Fang Club and came over, crouched beside Zhu Gaochi and said, "Gaochi, have you finished your work? When you're done, come with me to check over there; many people have fled that way."

Zhu Gaochi, without raising his head, replied, "Let me finish tallying this ledger first."

Zhu Qiong Jiong waited a moment, then asked, "Gaochi, are you really not afraid up on the city wall today?"

Zhu Gaochi put down his brush, looked up at him, and said, "I am afraid, but Second Uncle once said that fear makes one careful, and carefulness prevents mistakes."

Zhu Qiong Jiong froze for a moment, then grinned, "Your father said that?"

"Yes."

Zhu Qiong Jiong nodded, said nothing more, and crouched nearby, waiting.

By evening, the battlefield had been mostly cleaned.

There were over thirty thousand captives, several thousand warhorses, and Grain and Fodder carts piled into small hills.

Zhu Yong stood on the city wall, gazing at the western sky.

The setting sun dyed the whole land a blood‑red, and in the distance scattered flames could be seen—tents abandoned by fleeing soldiers burning.

Zhang Wu stepped forward and said, "Prince, after this battle the Ottomans will need at least three years to recover."

Zhu Yong nodded, "Three years is enough."

"Enough for what?"

"Enough to govern this region well." Zhu Yong turned, looking at the Street inside the city.

The townsfolk had already begun to tidy up; some were repairing houses shattered by cannon fire, others were clearing rubble from the Street.

An old man selling flatbread pushed his cart out from a corner of the Street, shouting hoarsely.

Everything returned to normal.

Zhu Gaochi came up from below the city, holding a thick stack of papers, and said, "Second Uncle, the captives have been counted: 12,000 Ottomans, 8,000 Serbians, 6,000 Hungarians, 4,000 Wallachians.

The Grain and Fodder will feed these captives for two months, and there are also weapons—over 20,000 Sword and Spear pieces, 5,000 bows, 3,000 warhorses. How should these weapons be dealt with?"

Zhu Yong thought for a moment and said, "Melt the weapons into farming tools, incorporate the warhorses into the Longxiang Army, enlist captives who are willing to surrender as auxiliary troops, and send those who refuse to work on road repairs."

Zhu Gaochi wrote it down point by point, then asked, "What about the wounded captives?"

"Treat those who can be healed; give a swift end to those who cannot."

Zhu Gaochi paused, then softly said, "Second Uncle, there are a few with severe injuries; the army doctor says they cannot be saved, but they wish to see their families—could we…?"

"We can… have someone deliver a message to their families, and keep them well‑nourished until they see them." Zhu Yong cut him off.

Zhu Gaochi froze for a moment, then smiled, performed a proper salute, and said, "Yes, Second Uncle."

Zhu Yong watched his retreating back, a faint smile curling his mouth.

The child is kind‑hearted, yet not foolish.

Strict when needed, lenient when appropriate.

In the future, he will be a good Emperor.

In the distance, Zhu Di was leading the Yan Army in pursuit of the fleeing soldiers, smoke and dust billowing, shouts of battle echoing farther away.

On the walls of Constantinople, Great Ming's banners fluttered in the evening wind.

From Yingtian Prefecture to here, it was tens of thousands of li.

Battle after battle came, city after city fell.

One day, Great Ming's banners will be planted across the whole world.

The setting sun sank, and the last afterglow vanished on the horizon.

The lights in the city lit up one after another, and the townsfolk began to light fires and cook.