Chapter 431: A Decisive Death Battle

Zhu Di rode at the head, charging into the city.

Taragona's garrison was larger than Laerida's, but not by much.

A few hundred men were scattered by a single charge of the Longxiang Army.

Those who died died, those who surrendered surrendered, a few officers fled, and the rest all knelt.

Zhu Di halted his horse in the city center and glanced at the city.

The Street was a bit wider than Laerida's, but the level of filth and disorder was comparable.

Garbage and feces littered the ground everywhere, and the air was filled with a rotting stench.

A few Longxiang Army soldiers were clearing a pile of trash at a street corner, shoveling it with iron spades onto a cart.

Zhu Di ignored them, his gaze falling on the church in the north of the city.

It was built of stone, with a soaring spire; at the entrance stood two stone pillars topped with crosses.

"Prince, what should be done with that church?" the Vice General asked.

"Empty it, melt the gold and silver vessels to cast silver ingots, burn the Bibles and crosses together, convert the church into a school; after that you won't have to ask again, stop asking each time..."

The Vice General's face turned pale at the words, and he quickly replied, leading his men away.

Zhu Di dismounted and sat on a stone in the city center.

Taragona had been taken; ahead lay Saragossa.

Three hundred li; another three to four days' march would reach it.

He took out a map and unfolded it.

Saragossa sits on the banks of the Ebro River, the largest city of Aragon and its capital. The city has a garrison, the exact number unknown, but certainly not few.

Alfonso V piled his main forces on the western front, watching the Third Prince's sector, while the eastern front was empty. Yet Saragossa, being the capital, could not be left without heavy troops.

"Prince, the troops have rested," the Vice General came over.

Zhu Di folded the map and remounted.

"Set out."

The main army continued westward.

Toledo City, the royal palace study.

Zhu Yong sat at the desk, a freshly delivered military report spread before him.

Zhu Shuang, sent from the eastern front, reported that the Aragonese were still gathering at the border, with no signs of an attack.

The report ended with a line: "Second Prince, Alfonso V is awaiting France's reinforcements."

Zhu Yong set the report down.

France's reinforcements. Cha Li Liu Shi, nicknamed "Mad King," whose mind fluctuates, and the court is controlled by a few great nobles.

France and England have been at war for nearly a hundred years; the nation's strength has long been drained, leaving no capacity to deal with Spain's affairs.

Alfonso V, unable to wait for reinforcements, must either retreat or fight.

If they retreat, Aragon will be cowardly.

If they fight, it will be a perfect chance to crush them.

"Wang Gui," he called.

Wang Gui entered from the doorway, clasping his fists and saying, "Your Highness."

"Send a messenger to Cuenca, have the Third Younger Brother prepare. If the Aragonese dare to attack, let them; when they tire, the Fifth Younger Brother will strike their rear."

"Understood."

Wang Gui turned and left.

Zhu Yong stood and walked to the window.

Toledo's night was very quiet.

Distant mountain ranges flickered in the night, like a sleeping giant.

Great Ming banners on the city wall rustled in the night wind.

He stood for a while, then turned back to the desk and sat down.

Europe is vast, with many nations.

Portugal, Castile, Aragon, France, England, the Holy Roman Empire—one after another fought, with no few years left to finish.

But he was not in a hurry.

He was thirty-six this year, at the peak of his fighting prime.

Another ten, twenty years, conquering all of Europe and Africa, planting Great Ming banners in every city.

Then, later, return home.

Three days later, fifty li east of Saragossa.

Zhu Di halted his horse, gazing at the plain ahead.

The Ebro River flowed in from the west, its water muddy yellow and swift.

The southern bank was Saragossa, Aragon's capital.

The city wall was tall, grayish, shimmering with a dull light under the sun.

Soldiers crowded the wall, cannons already set, their muzzles blackened and pointing east.

At the city gate, people came and went, some entering, some leaving, in chaotic disorder.

"Prince, Saragossa has arrived..." the Vice General rode up from behind.

Zhu Di squinted, watched for a moment, dismounted, drew a short sword from his saddle, and gripped it.

"Send orders, form ranks, prepare for siege."

Ten thousand Longxiang Army troops began to form ranks.

The front rank of a thousand men crouched, holding their Flintlock Guns level.

The middle rank of two thousand stood with their muzzles forward; the rear rank of two thousand rested briefly, ready to take over.

Zhu Di stood at the front of the formation, looking at the city.

The Aragon troops had clearly already spotted the army.

Horn Sound wailed, and the soldiers scrambled toward the city walls, some shouting, some hauling ammunition, a chaotic mess.

"Fire the cannons..."

The rear‑mounted line‑of‑sight cannons fired simultaneously.

Shrapnel shells ripped through the air, trailing long tails, striking Zaragoza's city wall.

In the first volley, several bronze cannons on the wall were blown away, their barrels flipping in the air before crashing to the ground and breaking into pieces.

Aragon soldiers were blown into a heap, their wails rising and falling.

The second volley blasted a breach in the wall, bricks and stones shattering, smoke and dust soaring.

The third volley widened the breach, revealing the streets and houses inside the city.

"Longxiang Army, follow me in the assault."

Zhu Di led the charge, striding toward the breach.

Ten thousand Longxiang soldiers followed, the clatter of iron armor echoing across the plain like a muffled thunder rolling over the earth.

On the wall, the Aragon garrison panicked.

Arrows rained toward Zhu Di.

He neither dodged nor evaded; the arrows struck his iron armor, clanging harmlessly, not even nicking his skin.

He surged to the breach, kicking aside the blocking rubble, and rushed into the city.

A few Aragon soldiers brandishing spears charged; he cleaved a spear shaft with one slash, then with a reverse slash he felled one.

Another charged; he sidestepped and thrust a blade into the man's chest.

Zhu Di kept charging into the city, with the Longxiang Army behind him.

Zaragoza's streets are wider than Barcelona's, but dirtier.

The ground is littered with trash and excrement, sticky underfoot.

The air is thick with a putrid stench, as if hundreds of rotten eggs were buried in the city.

A few Longxiang soldiers shouted while charging, "Damn, this place smells worse than a pigsty!"

Zhu Di ignored them; his only target was the palace at the city's center.

Zaragoza's palace sits by the Ebro River, built of stone and whitewashed outside, appearing larger and more majestic than Barcelona's palace.

Dozens of guards stood at the gate, clad in ornate armor, wielding spears and shields.

Seeing Zhu Di charge, they panicked; some raised spears, others turned and fled.

Zhu Di surged forward, slashing one down and kicking another over.

The Longxiang soldiers behind opened fire with Flintlock Guns, and the guards fell in droves.

He rushed into the palace, which was empty and silent, no one inside.

"Search..."

The Longxiang troops stormed each room, searching them one by one.

After a moment, a soldier emerged from the basement, cupping his fist, and said, "Prince, there are people below."

Zhu Di followed him down into the basement.

The basement was vast, piled with crates. When opened, they were filled with Gold and Silver jewelry, glittering so brightly it hurt the eyes.

In a corner, a few people crouched—men and women, old and young—shivering all over.

An elderly woman in a lavish robe cradled a seven‑ or eight‑year‑old boy, murmuring something as if in prayer.

"Prince, these are the queen and the prince," the Vice General said, stepping forward from behind.

The king has fled.

Alfonso V is not in Zaragoza; where did he run off to?

"Ask them where the king went."

The Vice General asked a few questions in Latin.

The old woman trembled and spoke at length.

"Prince, she says the king went to the western front, saying he will settle a death battle with the Castilians."

Zhu Di's mouth twitched into a faint smile.

A death battle...

Alfonso V is making a desperate gamble.

He really can run! Even the Second Prince's brother‑in‑law can flee.

"Take them down, keep a good watch, and do not mistreat them."

The Vice General replied, and led people to escort the queen and prince down.

Zhu Di stepped out of the palace and stood on the steps.

Zaragoza has been taken.

Aragon's capital, the millennial city on the banks of the Ebro River, has changed hands from today onward.

But the war is not yet over.

Alfonso V remains on the western front, still commanding twenty thousand troops.

The Third Prince's side has only ten thousand men and must hurry to reinforce.

"Send the order: the whole army rests for one night, and at first light tomorrow we march west."

Yes.