Chapter 435: An Old Minister Opens His Eyes

Bordeaux's walls are lower than Tolledo's, but thicker than Lisbon's.

The city gate was a chaotic mess.

Merchants pushed carts outward, farmers drove cattle and sheep inward, a few knights in chainmail rode on horses, brandishing swords and shouting something, but no one heard them.

Zhu Yong halted his horse, squinting for a while.

Dozens of bronze cannons were mounted on the wall, their muzzles blackened and pointing outward.

The defending troops numbered about three to five thousand, dressed in multicolored clothes, some wearing iron helmets, others wrapped in cloth, weapons varied—long spears, curved blades, crossbows, everything.

"A rabble," Zhu Di rode up.

Zhu Yong said nothing...

He took two drum‑shaped golden hammers from his saddle, lifted them; the 1,200‑jin hammers glimmered a dark‑gold in the morning light.

"Longxiang Army, form ranks."

Ten thousand Longxiang soldiers lined up outside the city.

The front line of a thousand men crouched, Flintlock Guns held level.

The middle line of two thousand stood, muzzles facing forward.

The rear line of two thousand rested, ready to rotate in.

Iron armor flashed cold in the sun, bayonets gleamed, warhorses snorted, their front hooves pawed the ground.

On the wall, the French garrison's faces changed.

They had never seen an army like this, covered head to toe in iron armor, weapons that could kill from hundreds of steps away.

A middle‑aged man in splendid armor stuck his head out and shouted in Latin.

Zhu Yong didn't understand, nor cared to listen.

"Fire."

The rear loading cannons fired simultaneously.

Shrapnel burst through the air, striking the wall.

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

The second volley ripped a breach in the wall; bricks shattered, smoke rose skyward.

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

"Longxiang Army, follow me to storm the city."

Zhu Yong squeezed his horse's belly, and the warhorse surged forward.

Ten thousand troops followed close behind, hooves thundering like muffled thunder.

Arrows rained down on the wall, but when they hit the plate armor they clanged harmlessly, not even breaking the skin.

Zhu Yong charged to the breach, leapt off his horse, and bore the Double Hammers into the city.

Several French soldiers thrust long spears forward; he swept a hammer across, sending five or six men flying into the wall, their brains splattering.

Another knight rode at him, his spear aimed at Zhu Yong's chest; Zhu Yong smashed the spear shaft with one hammer and struck the horse's head with the other, the warhorse whinnied and fell, the knight was flung and broke his neck.

Behind him, ten thousand Longxiang soldiers followed his path, firing Flintlock Guns in unison, cutting with sabers.

The French garrison had never seen such a display; within half an hour they collapsed.

The dead died, the surrendered surrendered, the fleeing ran north.

Zhu Yong stood on the central plaza, looking at the largest city in southwestern France.

The Street is wider than Tolledo's, but its filth and disorder are comparable.

Trash and excrement littered the ground, and a foul stench of rot filled the air.

"Send orders: take over the city defenses, collect weapons, close the gates, dispatch messengers to the port, have the fleet dock."

Wang Gui responded with a nod and led men away.

Zhu Di rode over, dismounted, walked to Zhu Yong's side. "Second Prince, Bordeaux has been taken; where shall we strike next?"

Zhu Yong took out a map and spread it on his horse's back.

"Northward, to Toulouse. Toulouse is the largest city in southern France; capture it and the whole southwest will be in our hands."

Zhu Di stared at the map, frowned, "Toulouse is inland, more than three hundred li from here, the whole route is plain, no hazardous terrain."

"Plains are easy to fight on; our cavalry and artillery can operate, and although the French have many cavalry, their armor is thin and cannot stop flintlock guns."

Zhu Di nodded and asked no further.

Li Wenzhong rode up from behind, his complexion a bit pale, but his spirit was fine.

"Prince, shall I lead men to search the royal palace?"

Zhu Yong nodded.

Feng Sheng rode in from another Street, clasped his fists and said, "Prince, a great cathedral has been discovered north of the city, larger than Tolledo's, with many Gold and Silver vessels inside."

"European cathedrals are truly impressive! Every city has a grand cathedral, more magnificent than the local yamen; this really opens an old minister's eyes."

Zhu Yong smiled faintly, "Heh... this is the theocracy of Europe, just like before: move the Gold and Silver, keep the cathedral, later turn it into a school."

"Priests are locked up; those who wish to return to farming get land, those who refuse are sent to Australia; in any case, these theocratic people must not retain any rights."

Feng Sheng nodded and turned away.

Zhu Qiong Jiong carried a Wolf Fang Club out of a corner, drenched in blood, his face splattered, yet his eyes shone terrifyingly. The twelve‑year‑old boy killed with a fierceness surpassing his father's.

"Father, we captured an official in the north of the city, wearing a gold‑thread embroidered robe, riding a white horse, faster than a rabbit; I caught up with him."

"Bring him in."

Soon, several Longxiang soldiers escorted a middle‑aged man over.

The man was about fifty, with a large beard, wearing a brocade robe dusted with ash, his face ghastly pale, trembling all over.

Wang Gui came up from behind, asked a few questions in Latin, the man stammered a reply.

"Prince, he says he is the governor of Bordeaux, named Jean de Fouva, sent by King Charles VI of France to guard the southwest."

Zhu Yong looks at him and says calmly, "Tell your king, the Great Ming army has arrived; France must either submit or be destroyed."

Wang Gui translates, and the governor's complexion turns even paler.

He opens his mouth, seems about to speak, then swallows it back.

"Take him down and lock him up."

When the governor is dragged down, his legs tremble.

At dusk, the fleet docks.

One hundred twenty steamships are moored in the harbor, their smokestacks belching black smoke, and the roar of the steam engines is deafening.

Fifty thousand fresh troops disembark and line up on the pier.

Iron armor like a forest, flintlock guns flash and point toward the sky.

Li Wenzhong rides in from the palace direction, holding a list in his hand.

"Prince, the gold and silver in the palace have been counted: about thirty thousand taels of gold, over eight hundred thousand taels of silver, plus dozens of boxes of gems and a dozen church gold items.

The provisions are enough to feed the army for two months."

Zhu Yong nods.

"The gold and silver will be melted and cast into silver ingots, the food stored, the gems kept to be sent back to Great Ming later."

Li Wenzhong replies with a sound, then turns and leaves.

Feng Sheng returns from the north of the city, bows and says, "Prince, the gold and silver vessels in the church have been counted; we can cast several ten thousand taels of silver ingots. The priest sealed dozens of them, all locked in the camp."

"Starting tomorrow, gather the Bibles, crosses and such from the church and burn them en masse; convert the church into a school, have the captives clean up the city's sanitation, remove the trash, haul out the waste, and wash everything with lime water."

"There must be no trace of any sectarian items, especially books or notes; leave not even a speck."

Feng Sheng nods, turns, and leaves.

At night, Zhu Yong holds a banquet in the Bordeaux Governor's Office. The dishes are simple: roasted lamb, flatbread, and wine, all shipped from Portugal.

After three rounds of wine, Li Wenzhong sets down his cup and looks at Zhu Yong.

"Prince, is a force of one hundred ten thousand enough for a country as large as France?"

Zhu Yong puts down his cup.

"If it's not enough, we will conquer and redeploy; the elder brother's side still has troops, Australia still has troops, Tie Mu Er estate also has troops; if insufficient, we add until it's enough."

Li Wenzhong smiles.

"Prince, that tone is exactly like His Majesty's back then."

Feng Sheng also smiles.

"His Majesty, when he fought Chen Youliang, said the same: if it's not enough, add more, until it's sufficient."

Zhu Yong also smiles.

He stands up and walks to the window.

Bordeaux's night is quieter than Toulade's, and on the distant sea the steamship lights flicker like stars.

"Dad, what are you thinking?" Zhu Qiong Jiong crouches by the window, chewing a piece of dry ration.

Zhu Yong looks down at his son.

"I'm thinking, how long will this war last."

"After defeating France, go home?"

"After France, there is England, the Holy Roman Empire, the Pope, Africa, and America."

Zhu Qiong Jiong's eyes light up.

"So many places?"

"Plenty! Enough for you to fight your whole life."

Zhu Qiong Jiong grins, showing a mouth missing a front tooth.

At first light the next day, before sunrise, Bordeaux City begins to bustle.

Soldiers of the Longxiang Army clean garbage in the streets, carts of waste are hauled out of the city.

The captives line up, are escorted to the northern camp, awaiting "baptism."

Zhu Yong stands on the city wall, gazing at the northern sky.

There lies the direction of Toulouse, the largest city in southern France, their next target.

"Second Prince, the troops are ready." Zhu Di walks up from below the city.

Zhu Yong nods, turns, and walks down the wall.

Outside the city gate, a hundred and ten thousand army stands ready.

Iron armor like a forest, flintlock guns flash toward the sky, warhorses whinny, War Flags flutter.

Zhu Yong rides his horse to the front of the formation.

Behind him follow Zhu Di, Li Wenzhong, Feng Sheng, and Zhu Qiong Jiong carrying a Wolf Fang Club.

"Depart."

The army slowly sets out, marching along the official road toward the Northern Region.

After three days, a small town appears ahead.

The town is small, its walls low; a few soldiers stand at the gate, and upon seeing the distant iron‑black tide, they turn and flee.