Chapter 425: A Shocking Sight

Zhu Yong watched his back, then turned and walked back to the palace.

These Europeans say one thing to the face and another behind it; they cannot be trusted.

Ten days is enough for them to do many things, and also enough for the Great Ming army to be ready.

Back at the palace, Zhu Yong called several of his younger brothers together.

The map was spread on the table, with Zhu Shuang and Zhu Di standing on either side.

"Aragon won't submit; they're stalling, hoping for France's reinforcements," Zhu Yong said, his finger drawing several lines on the map.

"Second Prince, then we won't wait?" Zhu Shuang asked.

"No waiting… At first light tomorrow, we split into two forces. Third brother, you lead ten thousand men eastward by land to strike the eastern border city of Castile, creating the appearance of a frontal attack on Aragon."

"Fifth brother, you take ten thousand men by sea, land at Barcelona, and strike Aragon's rear."

Zhu Di looked at the map, frowned, and said, "Barcelona lies east of Aragon, on the coast, and is Aragon's largest port city."

"Sailing around all of Castile is not a short journey."

"The distance is long, but the Aragonese won't expect us to attack from the sea; their main forces are on the western front, watching Castile, leaving the eastern front empty."

"If you land at Barcelona and march westward, you can reach Zaragoza in half a month."

Zhu Di nodded, "Alright, I'll make preparations."

Zhu Shuang also said, "Second Prince, I'll set out at first light tomorrow."

Zhu Yong nodded and added, "Fifth brother, when you reach Barcelona, clear out the city's churches, convert the cathedrals into schools; priests who wish to return to lay life get land to farm, those who refuse are sent to mine."

Zhu Di replied with a word and strode out.

Zhu Yong stood by the window, gazing at the distant mountains.

The setting sun sank in the west, dyeing the whole mountain city a deep crimson.

The Great Ming banner on the city wall fluttered in the evening breeze, its red field bearing a golden dragon, teeth bared and claws outstretched.

At first light the next day, before sunrise, Toledo began to bustle.

Zhu Shuang led ten thousand men out the east gate, marching east along the official road toward Cuenca.

The iron armor glimmered coldly in the dawn light, Flintlock Guns cracked upward toward the sky, and the hooves sounded like muffled thunder, shaking the earth.

Zhu Gang held the town of Porto, while Zhu Di prepared to set out by sea.

Zhu Yong stood on the city wall, watching the column gradually fade into the morning mist.

Footsteps came from behind; Zhu QiongJiong hoisted a Wolf Fang Club and walked up, the twelve‑year‑old boy standing upright beside his father.

"Father, when do we set out?"

"No rush; we'll go after Third Uncle's side erupts."

Zhu QiongJiong nodded and said nothing more.

Zhu Yong turned and walked down from the wall.

Inside the palace, Wang Gui was sorting the documents seized in recent days.

A thick stack of parchment lay on the table: letters from the King of Castile, secret missives between nobles, and the church's ledgers.

"Your Highness, these are the Castile church's property list…" Wang Gui handed over a hefty volume.

Zhu Yong took it and opened it.

Inside, densely listed were the lands, properties, gold and silver vessels of every cathedral and monastery within Castile, along with their annual revenues.

The figures were shocking to the eye…

Just the Toledo Cathedral alone collected tens of thousands of gold coins in tithes each year, owned thousands of acres of land, and held properties across the nation.

"The church is richer than the king…" Zhu Yong placed the volume on the table.

"Exactly, those priests gorge themselves until they're bloated, while the common folk starve enough to gnaw bark, yet they still feast on lavish meals inside the churches," Wang Gui shook his head.

Zhu Yong said nothing.

He recalled the great cathedrals he had visited in Europe in a past life, resplendent in gold and jade, their domes painted with biblical scenes, altars bearing pure‑gold crosses.

Back then he thought those cathedrals were works of art; now he knows they were built on the blood and sweat of the people.

"All the church's gold and silver vessels will be melted into silver ingots, the land given to landless peasants, and the properties turned into schools and hospitals."

Priests who wish to return to lay life receive land; those who refuse are sent to Australia.

Wang Gui recorded each entry.

Zhu Yong stood up and walked to the window.

On Toledo's streets, Longxiang Army soldiers were distributing food to the populace.

Several soldiers carried large baskets filled with bread and jerky; the people lined up, receiving portions one by one.

No one fought, no one caused a ruckus; order was orderly.

A young woman cradling a child took a loaf, walked to the roadside, crouched, broke off a piece and shoved it into the child's mouth.

The child, famished, devoured it ravenously.

The woman looked up, saw Zhu Yong standing at the palace window, froze briefly, then bowed deeply.

Zhu Yong watched the scene, and an indescribable feeling rose within him.

These people are also human.

They care not who sits on the throne, nor which faith they follow, only whether they can eat a full meal and survive.

A good Emperor is the one who can give them stable days.

"Your Highness, it's time to eat…" Wang Gui came up from behind.

Zhu Yong turned, and sat down at the table.

The meal was simple: a bowl of rice, a dish of pickled vegetables, and two pieces of marinated meat.

In Europe, rice is already a luxury.

The rice was shipped from Great Ming, over thousands of miles, and is more expensive than gold.

"Prince, you said about Aragon, will there be fighting?" Wang Gui stood beside him.

"Yes... Alfonso V is ambitious; he won't be content to watch Castile being taken by us. Even if he can't win, he'll fight, because only by fighting will he have bargaining chips for negotiations with us."

Wang Gui nodded and said nothing further.

At dusk, Zhu Di received news from the harbor: the fleet was ready and would set out early tomorrow morning.

Zhu Yong finished reading the letter, folded the paper neatly, and placed it in the drawer. He picked up his pen and began writing a letter to Zhu Biao.

"Elder brother, seeing the words is like seeing you in person; Castile has already been taken, the capital Toledo is under our army's control, the king has fled, the nobles have surrendered, and the common people have been settled."

Gold and Silver are still being counted, estimated at no less than two million taels; the Church's holdings exceed the treasury, and the gold and silver vessels in Toledo's cathedral alone are enough to mint tens of thousands of silver ingots.

The Church's power in Europe is enormous; churches are everywhere, and there are more priests than officials. These men do not farm, do not pay taxes, and live off the offerings of the common people.

I have already ordered that the churches be confiscated and turned into schools; priests who are willing to return to secular life will be given land to farm, and those who refuse will be sent to Australia.

The religion that Europeans follow is far more domineering than our Buddhism and Daoism; it cannot remain. Later, send some Daoists and Confucian scholars over, so that Europeans can also read our sages' scriptures.

Aragon lies to the east of Castile; King Alfonso V has gathered twenty thousand troops at the border, hoping to loot while the fire burns. I ordered my third brother to feint a frontal attack via the Land Route, and my fifth brother to sail around to Aragon's rear and land at Barcelona.

With a pincer attack from front and rear, we will capture Aragon within a month. In Portugal, the fourth brother holds Porto, unable to produce any troublemakers. The kid Qiong Jiong follows me daily, sun‑baked like black charcoal, but full of vigor; once on the battlefield he charges forward.

As for me, elder brother, please take care of your health. Brother Yong bows.

After finishing the letter, he sealed it and handed it to the Imperial Troops outside, saying: 'Send it back to Yingtian Prefecture.'

"Yes..."

After the Imperial Troops withdrew, Zhu Yong stood up and walked to the window.

The moon rose, shining on Toledo's city walls; the Stones glowed with a pale bluish light in the Moonlight.

In the distance, the spires of the churches flickered in the night, like fingers pointing toward the sky.

Those fingers will soon be cut off.