Chapter 445: Killed a Few More

Zhu Yong smiled wryly, waved his hand and said, "General Feng, I was talking about arranging a ship, not having you go personally to deliver. If you leave, who will be in charge here?"

Feng Sheng scratched his head, chuckled twice.

"I thought the Prince had ordered me to deliver! Then I would have had someone arrange it, find a reliable commander to escort."

"Well, find a young one, give them some experience, General Feng, you're just in time; I have something to discuss with you." Zhu Yong sat down again.

"Prince, please speak…"

"The small southern states—Navarre, Provence, Auvergne—have sent envoys seeking negotiations. Go to Bordeaux and handle this for me."

Feng Sheng clasped his fists and said, "Prince, rest assured, I will take care of it."

"Tell them the Great Ming rules: land confiscated, property registered, nobles sent to Yingtian Prefecture; those who submit will have the populace divided the land, tax‑free for the first three years."

"Those who refuse to submit, when the great army arrives, it will no longer be a negotiation."

Feng Sheng replied with a nod, turned, and strode out.

Zhu Yong lifted his bowl again and continued eating.

Zhu Qiong Jiong entered from the doorway, the Wolf Fang Club slung over his shoulder, its head smeared with fresh blood; the twelve‑year‑old boy, sun‑tanned dark, walked with a fierce, wind‑like stride.

"Dad, we captured a few officials down south again; they were hiding in a farmhouse and were found."

"Did you bring them over?"

"They've been brought, locked in the square; Uncle Wang Gui is interrogating."

Zhu Yong glanced at his son, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

"Go wash up, we'll eat in a bit."

Zhu Qiong Jiong replied, leaned the Wolf Fang Club against the wall, and gulped a large mouthful from the Water Bag on the table.

"Dad, when are we marching east?"

Zhu Yong set the bowl down.

"Why the hurry… fight when we have one, first clean up the south, secure France, then head east in early next spring."

Zhu Qiong Jiong pursed his lips, saying nothing more.

He crouched by the wall, picked up a rag and began wiping the Wolf Fang Club.

Zhu Yong watched his son, silent for a moment.

"This child resembles him, yet not entirely."

"He joined the army back then just to have enough to eat; this child was born in Wang Fu, lacks nothing, yet is innately drawn to the battlefield."

"Qiong Jiong…"

"Mm…"

"How many more have you killed?"

"Can't count, maybe twenty‑to‑thirty." Zhu Qiong Jiong didn't look up, continuing to wipe the club.

Zhu Yong didn't ask further.

In the distance, the lights of Calais City flickered on one by one.

This was the English's last foothold on the continent, and from today it changed hands completely.

Night fell, and Calais City's streets grew quiet.

Longxiang Army soldiers patrolled the city walls, their iron boots thudding heavily on the stone slabs.

The captives were confined in the northern camp, rows of tents shimmering gray‑white in the Moonlight.

Zhu Yong stood at the window of the Governor's Office, gazing at the night outside.

The European war had been raging for almost a year.

From Portugal to Castile, from Castile to Aragon, from Aragon to France, from France to England.

City after city fell, flag after flag was replaced.

And the Holy Roman Empire as well.

And the Pope too.

And those various dukes and lords scattered across Europe.

The road ahead is still long.

Footsteps sounded behind.

Zhu Di entered, holding a military report in his hand.

"Second Prince, news from the south."

Zhu Yong took it, unfolded it.

The report, sent by Zhu Gang from Porto, said the envoys from those southern states had arrived, and Feng Sheng was negotiating with them.

The report ended with a line: "Second Prince, the Navarre envoy says their king wishes to submit, requesting to retain the royal title."

Zhu Yong finished reading, placed the report on the table.

"Royal title, what a nice idea."

Zhu Di sat down beside him.

"Second Prince, Navarre is a tiny state, can't cause much trouble; if they want to keep the title, let them, it's not a big place anyway."

"Can't set a precedent; today Navarre wants to keep its title, tomorrow Burgundy will want it, the day after Brittany will want it."

"If we loosen one, everyone will come asking."

Zhu Di thought for a moment, nodded, and said, "Second Prince is right."

Zhu Yong rose, walked to the window.

"Tell Fourth Brother that the Navarre matter should be handled by General Feng; if they submit, follow Great Ming's rules, if not, just wait for the army to arrive."

Zhu Di replied with a nod and turned to leave.

Zhu Yong stood by the window, watching the night outside.

The Moon rose, shining on the walls of Jialai City, and those Stones glimmered with a pale blue‑white light under the Moonlight.

In the distance, on the sea, the steamship's lights flickered like stars.

A new day will soon arrive.

At dawn the next day, Jialai City began to bustle.

Longxiang Army soldiers patrolled the Street, and the captives lined up to receive breakfast: a bowl of thin porridge and a piece of black bread each.

A young captive took the bread, crouched on the ground, and gingerly took a bite.

He chewed twice, then twice more, and his eyes suddenly reddened.

An older soldier beside him asked in English what was wrong; he trembled and muttered a string of words.

The soldier translated for his companion: "He said he had never eaten bread so soft; the bread he used to eat was blackish, stored for months, hard as a Stone."

A few Longxiang Army soldiers exchanged glances and said nothing.

Zhu Yong walked past, his steps unceasing.

These Europeans are also human; they just live too harshly.

"Prince, the ship is ready," Wang Gui called up from behind.

"What ship?"

"The vessel to send the captives back to Yingtian Prefecture, arranged by General Feng; the escort commander is Zhao Bao, son of Zhao Hu."

Zhu Yong nodded.

Zhao Bao, that lad had fought a few battles with him; he's a reliable youngster.

"Tell him to be careful on the road, don't cause any mishaps."

Wang Gui replied with a tone, turned and left.

Zhu Yong stood at the city gate, watching the captives being led onto the ships in groups.

Henry V walked at the front, bound in heavy ropes, with two Longxiang Army soldiers escorting him.

He bowed his head, his expression unreadable.

The Duke of Burgundy followed behind, his face ashen, lips trembling, muttering something incomprehensible.

Further back were the Duke of Brittany's nephew, several Counts of England, and more than twenty nobles of various ranks.

Sending this group back to Yingtian Prefecture will please the Imperial Father for a while.

"Father, will they die?" Zhu Qiong Jiong stood beside him, carrying a Wolf Fang Club.

Zhu Yong glanced at his son.

"No, your grandfather rarely kills, unless the person deserves death."

Zhu Qiong Jiong nodded and asked no further.

The fleet slowly sailed out of the harbor, heading toward the sea.

Zhu Yong stood on the dock, watching the ships recede until they became black specks on the horizon.

He turned and walked back into the city.

On Jialai City's Street, Longxiang Army soldiers were organizing the captives to clean up trash.

Carts of dung were hauled out of the city and the walls were scrubbed with lime water.

A local villager crouched at his doorway, watching the iron‑clad soldiers pass, his gaze no longer fearful.

He stood, approached a Longxiang Army soldier, gestured and said a few words.

The soldier didn't understand and called for a translator.

The translator said he wanted to ask for some food, as his household was on the brink of starvation.

The soldier gave him a glance and led him to the granary in the east of the city.

Zhu Yong watched the scene, a faint smile curling his lips.

The hearts of the people, as long as they aren't oppressed, will gradually accept.

In a few months, these villagers will get used to Great Ming people being here.

In a few years, they will consider themselves Great Ming people.

That is assimilation.

From afar came the sound of horse hooves.

Zhu Di rode forward from the north gate, dismounted with a flip.

"Second Prince, we swept the northern coast again and confirmed there are no English ships left."

"Alright… have the brothers prepare; at dawn tomorrow, head east," Zhu Yong said, turning.

"Eastward, to the Holy Roman Empire?"

"No rush; first to Dijon, the Duchy of Burgundy still stands, we must take it."

Zhu Di's eyes lit up.

"Second Prince, I'll lead the vanguard!"

Zhu Yong glanced at him, a faint smile curling his lips.

"Fine, you lead the vanguard."

Zhu Di grinned, flipped onto his horse, and rode toward the camp.

Zhu Yong stood at the city gate, watching his brother's silhouette fade into the street corner.

He turned, gazing toward the eastern sky.

There lies the direction of Burgundy, deep within the European continent.

The road is still long.

But not afraid.

He has never been afraid.