Chapter 437: I've Been Used to It for a Long Time

When the walls of Paris came into view, Zhu Yong halted his warhorse.

The city was larger than he had imagined.

The walls were a dull gray, stretching from the banks of the Seine to the distant hills, winding for several miles with no end in sight.

The French royal flag, a blue field with golden lilies, fluttered on the walls, rustling in the morning breeze.

The city gate was a chaotic mess: merchants pushed carts outward, farmers herded cattle and sheep inward, and a few knights in chainmail rode on horseback, brandishing swords and shouting, but no one listened to them.

"Prince, this is Paris..." Wang Gui rode up, holding a telescope.

Zhu Yong took it and held it up to his eyes.

The walls were filled with soldiers, the cannons were already positioned, their muzzles gaping blackly toward the outside.

The garrison numbered about ten to twenty thousand, dressed in assorted colors, some wearing iron helmets, others wrapped in cloth, and their weapons varied—spears, curved swords, crossbows, everything.

A few nobles in ornate armor rode on horseback along the walls, brandishing swords and shouting as if to rally morale, but their voices trembled.

Zhu Di rode up, squinting his eyes for a moment, a slight curl at his mouth: "A rabble of misfits."

Zhu Yong said nothing.

He dismounted two drum‑worn golden hammers from his horse and lifted them.

The 1,200‑jin hammers glimmered a dull gold in the morning light.

Although Great Ming's Huogi were already impressive, Zhu Yong still favored this pair of hammers.

"Form the ranks."

The 140,000‑strong army began to form.

Longxiang Army took the front, the new troops the rear, and the cannons the flanks.

Five hundred rear‑mounted breech‑loading cannons lined up in a row, their muzzles aimed at Paris's walls.

The iron armor flashed coldly in the sun, bayonets gleamed, warhorses snorted loudly, their front hooves digging the ground.

Flintlock Guns pointed upward in unison, like a forest of steel.

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

They had never seen so many iron‑armored troops, nor so many cannons.

The nobles' shouts grew louder, but the tremor in their voices could not be hidden.

A young knight rode back and forth on the wall, brandishing his sword and shouting something, but his hands shook, and he could barely grip the blade.

Zhu Yong did not rush to order the cannons to fire.

He was waiting.

After waiting about the time it takes to brew a pot of tea, a middle‑aged man in ornate armor appeared on the wall.

He was in his fifties, sported a large beard, wore a Gold Crown, and draped a blue cloak embroidered with golden lilies.

He stood at the highest point of the tower, holding a gem‑encrusted scepter aloft, shouting toward the outside.

It was Latin; Zhu Yong did not understand.

"Prince, he says he is the French king Cha Li Liu Shi, asking why we are attacking Paris," Wang Gui translated.

Zhu Yong replied calmly, "Tell him, Great Ming's King Wu has come to claim Europe."

Wang Gui relayed the message.

A stir arose on the walls.

Cha Li Liu Shi shouted again, his voice laced with anger and fear.

"Prince, he says Europe does not belong to Great Ming, nor does France, demanding we withdraw or else war will break out,"

Zhu Yong's mouth twitched slightly.

"Tell him, war may start, but once it ends, this city will belong to Great Ming."

Wang Gui translated.

Silence fell over the walls.

Cha Li Liu Shi stood there, his face ashen, lips trembling, unable to speak.

The nobles fell silent as well, exchanging glances, none daring to speak.

After a moment of silence, a clamor suddenly erupted on the walls.

A cleric in red rushed onto the tower, pointing outward and shouting something, his voice sharp and piercing.

He brandished a cross, waving it toward the outside as if warding off evil spirits.

Zhu Yong watched the cleric, frowning slightly.

"Who is that?" he asked.

Wang Gui examined closely and said, "Prince, judging by the attire, he appears to be a church official, perhaps the bishop of Paris."

Zhu Yong replied calmly, "Tell that bishop his God cannot save Paris."

Wang Gui translated.

The bishop's face turned pale instantly.

He opened his mouth, seemed about to speak, then swallowed it back.

The cross in his hand drooped, flashing a dull light in the sun.

Zhu Yong raised the hammer in his right hand.

"Fire the cannons."

The five hundred rear‑mounted breech‑loading cannons fired simultaneously.

Shrapnel shells ripped through the air, trailing long tails, striking Paris's walls.

In the first volley, dozens of bronze cannons on the wall were blown away.

The barrels somersaulted in the air, crashed to the ground, and shattered into several pieces.

The French soldiers were blown apart, horse and rider flailing, and wails of agony rose one after another.

In the second round of bombardment, a breach was blown in the city wall.

Bricks and stones shattered, and smoke and dust surged upward.

Through the breach, the city's Street and houses were exposed, and the panicked civilians could be seen running.

The third round of bombardment widened the breach, now wide enough for four or five people to walk side by side.

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

Zhu Yong grabbed the horse's flank, and the warhorse charged out.

The 140,000-strong army followed closely, their hoofbeats thundering, shaking the very ground.

Arrows rained down on the city wall, shooting toward the Ming army.

But those that struck the plate armor clanged harmlessly, not even breaking the skin.

Flintlock gunmen charged and returned fire, rows of bullets pelting the wall, and French archers fell in droves.

Zhu Yong rushed to the breach, dismounted, grabbed his Double Hammers, and charged into the city.

A few French soldiers brandishing spears charged, and he swept a hammer across them; five or six were flung out, slammed into the wall, their brains splattering.

Another knight on horseback charged, his spear thrust at Zhu Yong's chest; he 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, Longxiang Army followed his trail, firing Flintlock Guns in unison and hacking with sabers.

Paris's garrison far outnumbered those of Toulouse and Lyon, yet not by a huge margin.

Twenty thousand men, under the onslaught of the 140,000 troops, could not hold for even half an hour.

The French soldiers on the wall began to rout.

Some ran backward, some knelt to surrender, some leapt from the wall and broke their legs.

Those few nobles ran the fastest, on foot, grabbing their swords and sprinting into the city.

Cha Li Liu Shi was hoisted by a few guards, stumbling toward the palace.

The bishop ran even faster, his robe torn, exposing the undergarments beneath.

Zhu Di burst through the breach, slashing a resisting French soldier with a single sword stroke, then spurred his horse to catch up with Zhu Yong.

"Second Prince, the king is running toward the palace!"

"Pursue."

Father and son, one ahead of the other, charged toward the city center.

Paris's Street was wider than Lyon's, but the filth and chaos were comparable.

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

The air was thick with a putrid stench, mingled with the smell of blood and gunpowder, making heads feel dizzy.

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

"Even after all this time you still aren't used to it; I've been used to it for ages..."

Zhu Qiong Jiong followed behind his father, swinging his Wolf Fang Club side to side.

A French soldier burst from an alley, raising a crossbow on him; before he could pull the trigger, a hammer struck his head, his skull tilting, his body flung, crashing into the wall, his brain splattering.

Another knight on horseback charged, his spear aimed at Zhu Yong's chest; he sidestepped, a hammer struck the horse's leg, the warhorse fell, the knight tumbled and was hammered on the back of his head.

Zhu Yong surged toward the city center, clearing the way with his Double Hammers.

No one could block a single hammer swing, no one could halt his advance.

After pursuing for about the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, a tall building appeared ahead.

It was built of Stone, its exterior coated with white lime, several Stone pillars stood at the entrance, each topped with a statue.