Chapter 418: Capture the Thief by Capturing the King First

"Castile submits to Great Ming; the king's title is abolished, changed to a marquis of Great Ming, the land belongs to Great Ming, the king's family may retain property and receive an annual stipend."

Alvaro's complexion changed.

He opened his mouth, as if to speak, then swallowed it back.

Zhu Yong looked at him and said lightly, "What, unwilling?"

Alvaro wiped the sweat from his forehead and said cautiously, "General, this matter is too big; I cannot decide, I must return to report to the king."

"Fine. Go back and tell your king to give me an answer within a month; after a month, Great Ming's great army will march into Castile. Then it will no longer be a matter of submission."

Alvaro's face grew even paler.

He bowed repeatedly and hurried away with his men.

Zhu Gang came up from behind, watched the backs of those Spaniards disappearing, and grinned, "Second Prince, you're putting courtesy before force."

Zhu Yong stood up and walked toward the city.

"Give them a chance; if not, don't blame us for being impolite."

Back at the palace, Zhu Yong gathered several younger brothers together.

The map was spread on the table, the terrain of the Iberian Peninsula clear at a glance.

"The Spaniards won't submit; they're buying time, hoping we leave so they can retake Portugal," Zhu Yong said, his fingers drawing several lines on the map.

Zhu Shuang nodded and said, "Second Prince is right; these Europeans say one thing to our faces and another behind our backs, we can't trust them."

"So we won't wait; at first light tomorrow we'll split forces: one route east over land to strike Castile's border cities, the other south by sea straight for their capital Toledo."

Zhu Di looked at the map and said, "Second Prince, Toledo is inland, not on the coast."

"It's not on the coast, but not far; landing from sea and taking the land route is only about a hundred li."

Zhu Shuang stepped forward and volunteered, "Second Prince, I'll lead troops from the land."

"Alright, take ten thousand soldiers east from Porto to strike Salamanca; fourth brother, you take ten thousand troops by sea, land at the mouth of the Tagus, then advance north to capture Toledo."

"Fifth brother, you stay in Porto to hold the rear."

Zhu Gang protested, "Second Prince, I also want to go to battle."

"You stay in Porto, keep an eye on those prisoners, don't let them escape."

Zhu Gang pursed his lips and said nothing more.

At first light the next day, before dawn, Porto's port was already bustling.

Sixty steamships were ready to depart, their smokestacks belching black smoke, the roar of the engines deafening.

Ten thousand Longxiang Army troops lined up on deck; the iron armor glinted coldly in the morning light, Flintlock Guns shone brightly, bayonets were fixed, flashing a chilling gleam in the sun.

Zhu Yong stood on the bow of the "Wu Wang" ship, gazing at the distant sea.

The sea breeze was light, the waves low—perfect weather for setting out.

Zhu Gang stood on the dock, his face full of unwillingness.

"Second Prince, you really won't let me go?"

"You stay in Porto, watch those prisoners; if the Spaniards attack, you defend the city."

Zhu Gang opened his mouth, as if to speak, then swallowed it back.

He knew Second Prince was right; Porto had just been taken, it couldn't be left unwatched.

"Alright, I'll follow Second Prince."

Zhu Yong nodded, turned and looked toward the fleet behind him.

"Depart."

The whistle blew, and the sixty steamships slowly set off, leaving the harbor toward the open sea.

On the sea, the fleet formed a long line, the flags on the masts snapping in the wind.

A red field with a golden dragon, teeth bared and claws outstretched, exuding majestic vigor.

Zhu Yong stood at the bow, looking at the distant sea.

There, the direction of Castile, the direction of Spain, deep into the European continent.

He didn't know how long the war would last, but he knew that as long as he kept marching east, one day Great Ming's banner would be planted across all of Europe.

Footsteps sounded from behind.

Zhu Qiong Jiong emerged from the cabin, shouldering the Wolf Fang Club he never left behind.

The twelve‑year‑old boy was sun‑tanned black, his arms full of muscle, walking with a fierce, wind‑like stride.

"Father, are we going to fight Spain?"

"Mm."

Zhu Qiong Jiong grinned, "I heard Spain is larger than Portugal; if we take it, our territory will expand considerably."

Zhu Yong gave his son a glance.

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

"It's big, but hard to conquer; Spain's mountains are many, cavalry can't maneuver, artillery is ineffective."

"Then how do we fight?"

"Attack from the sea, bypass their main forces, and go straight for their capital."

Zhu Qiong Jiong's eyes lit up, "Capture the thief by first capturing the king?"

Zhu Yong's mouth twitched slightly.

This kid didn't read books in vain.

The fleet sailed south along the coastline.

Portugal's coastline is very straight, with few bays and few ports.

After two days, a broad bay appeared ahead.

"Prince, this is the Taho River mouth," Wang Gui walked up from behind, pointing at the distant water area.

Zhu Yong squinted and looked for a while.

The river mouth was wide, the current slow, suitable for landing.

The opposite bank was a plain, flat terrain, and further north lay a chain of mountains.

"Relay the Command, all troops land."

The Command was passed down, and sixty steamships began to change formation.

The vanguard of twenty ships moved toward the shore, the two wings each spread ten ships, and the central force of twenty ships formed the line.

On the shore, a few Spanish fishermen were hauling nets; seeing the dark, looming fleet on the sea, they were frightened, dropped their nets, and fled.

Zhu Yong was the first to step onto the gangplank.

Both feet stood on the beach; the sand was soft and spongy, sinking in half a foot.

They lifted their head, looked at the distant plain, and took a deep breath.

The air carried the smell of sea, the scent of earth, but not the stench of Porto.

This place was much cleaner than Portugal.

"Form the ranks."

Ten thousand Longxiang Army troops lined up on the beach; the front line of a thousand crouched, Flintlock Guns held level, the middle line of two thousand stood with barrels forward, and the rear line of two thousand rested, ready to rotate.

Zhu Yong lifted the Double Hammers, and strode inland.

Behind them, ten thousand Longxiang Army followed, the clatter of iron armor echoing across the beach.

After walking for about an hour, a small town appeared ahead.

The town was not large, about a hundred households, the houses built of Stone, but cleaner than those in Portugal.

At the town entrance stood a Stone stele inscribed with several Latin characters, which Zhu Yong did not recognize.

"Wang Gui, what is this place?"

Wang Gui walked up from behind, glanced at the stele, and said, "Prince, this is a small town in Castile called Santa Lun."

Zhu Yong nodded and led the men into the town.

The townsfolk, seeing the ironclad army, were frightened and hid inside, sealing doors and windows.

A few daring ones peeked out through the window cracks, their eyes full of terror.

Zhu Yong ignored them, led the men through the town, and continued northward.

After another hour's walk, a river appeared ahead.

The river was narrow, but the current swift, its roar echoing far across the open plain.

Across the river stood a chain of mountains.

"Prince, ahead is the heartland of Castile; cross that mountain, and we reach Toledo," Wang Gui said, pointing at the distant range.

Zhu Yong looked at the mountains, his brow slightly furrowed.

The mountains were not high but steep, with only a single path, flanked by cliffs on both sides.

If the Castilians set an ambush on this road, a single man could hold the pass, and ten thousand could not break through.

"Relay the Command, the whole army set camp at the foot of the mountain; we will not move tonight."

"Understood..."

The Longxiang Army pitched camp on the open ground by the river; tents were erected one by one, and cooking smoke curled upward.

Zhu Yong sat on a large Stone, watching the distant mountains.

Zhu Qiong Jiong crouched beside him, holding a piece of Dry Rations, took two bites, and set it down again.

"Dad, this place is much cleaner than Portugal."

Zhu Yong nodded.

Castile truly was cleaner than Portugal; at least the streets lacked so much feces and trash.

But it wasn't great either; Europeans generally didn't bathe, and their body odor could be smelled even from several miles away.

"Dad, do you think the Spanish will set an ambush here?"

"Probably..."

Zhu Qiong Jiong's eyes lit up: "Then how shall we get across?"

Zhu Yong looked at the distant mountains and fell silent for a moment.

"Cross over."

Zhu Qiong Jiong froze for a moment, then grinned.

"Dad, your method is just like back then under Kaiping City."