Chapter 454: Little White Horse

It was the third day since the great army left Frankfurt.

Zhu Yong rode his horse, gazing at the endless plain ahead.

The morning breeze came from the east, carrying the scent of grass and dew, and also a faint smell of cattle dung from afar; the Germans' hygiene habits were about the same as the French's, not any better.

The column behind had already marched for three days.

The news that Frankfurt had been taken should have spread throughout the German lands; the hesitant princes were either gathering troops or packing up to flee.

Zhu Yong didn't care which they chose; the outcome would be the same anyway.

"Prince, there's a situation ahead," Wang Gui called, riding back from the front, a hint of oddity on his face.

"What situation?"

"A few black men are kneeling by the road; they seem to want to defect to us."

Zhu Yong slightly raised an eyebrow.

Black men, this place is separated from Africa by the whole Mediterranean—where could they have come from?

"Bring them over for a look."

Wang Gui answered, spurred his horse forward, and soon a few Longxiang Army soldiers escorted five or six black men over.

These black men were shirtless, their lower bodies wrapped in tattered cloth, their skin shining black, hair curled tightly to their scalps.

They were so thin their skin clung to their bones, bearing whip marks—clearly slaves.

Zhu Yong halted his horse, looking down at them; seeing these black men, a certain song about a little white horse flashed in his mind...

The black men knelt, muttering incomprehensible words; he understood not a single syllable.

Wang Gui stepped forward, asked a few questions in the Portuguese he had just learned; the black men brightened, chattering at length.

"Prince, they say they are black slaves from Guinea, trafficked by the Portuguese, originally cargo on a Portuguese merchant ship; after our forces sank the ship they escaped, wandered for months, and upon hearing the Great Ming army arrived, they came to defect,"

Zhu Yong stared at the kneeling black men, silent for a moment.

Guinea, on the West African coast, has been a slave‑trading hub for the Portuguese in recent years, exchanging cheap cotton cloth and iron goods with local tribal chiefs for people, then shipping them back to Europe to sell.

These Europeans have certainly not been short of misdeeds.

"Tell them my army does not accept black slaves."

Wang Gui translated, and the black men's faces fell.

The leader said a few more words; after Wang Gui finished listening, he turned and said, "Prince, he says they are not slaves but free men; the Portuguese ship sank, and they are already free."

Zhu Yong's mouth twitched slightly.

Free men... on this land, skin color decides fate.

Europeans see their blackness and treat them like livestock. Now the Portuguese are gone; they think Great Ming's arrival will bring them good days?

"Tell them, here under my command, they are not free men either," Zhu Yong said calmly.

The black men's faces turned completely pale.

The leader tried to speak further, but a Longxiang Army soldier struck his shoulder with a gunstock, and he let out a howl, collapsing to the ground.

Zhu Yong looked at the trembling black slaves, a thought crossing his mind.

In a previous life he had read in history books that when black people intermarry with any race, the children are still black.

Europeans colonized Africa for centuries, yet Africa remains black.

He did not want Great Ming to become like that in the future.

"Send messengers to issue a decree: from today, all black people within Great Ming shall be registered as slaves, never to be freed; black slaves may only marry black slaves, not yellow‑skinned peoples," he paused, looking at Li Wenzhong.

Li Wenzhong was startled for a moment, then nodded, "Prince, rest assured, I have recorded it."

"This rule shall later be written into the Ming Code; anyone who dares defy it will be dealt with according to the law."

Li Wenzhong replied, turned and went to make arrangements.

As the black men were led away by Longxiang Army soldiers, they kept looking back, their eyes pleading, but mostly bewildered.

Zhu Yong turned his horse and kept moving forward.

He did not need their gratitude, nor their loyalty.

All he required was that they remember one thing: this is the domain of their master.

The great army continued eastward.

The road across the plain was rough, riddled with ruts and animal hoofprints.

German highways were worse than the French's; at least the French knew to pave with gravel, while the Germans wouldn't even bother with stones.

After about two hours' march, a river appeared ahead.

The river was narrow but swift; faintly on the opposite bank one could see the outline of a small town.

"Prince, ahead is the Furda River, and across is Furda City," Wang Gui rode forward, spreading out a map.

Zhu Yong glanced at the map.

Furda City was small but strategically placed, a necessary passage to Erfurt and Leipzig.

The city walls bore the banner of the Count of Black Forest—a white field with a red lion—flapping in the morning breeze.

"Send the order, form the ranks."

Eighty thousand troops began to line up along the riverbank.

Five hundred muzzle‑loading cannons were arranged in a line, their barrels aimed at Furda City across the river.

The iron armor glinted coldly in the sun, and Flintlock Guns pointed skyward in unison.

On the walls, the Black Forest garrison's faces changed.

They had never seen so many armored soldiers, nor so many cannons. A few nobles on horseback ran along the walls, brandishing swords and shouting, but their voices trembled.

Zhu Yong gave no order to fire.

He was waiting...

After waiting about the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, the city gate on the opposite bank suddenly opened.

It wasn't a surrender; a crowd of civilians poured out of the city, dragging families as they fled east.

"The civilians are escaping." Prince Zhu Di shouted as he rode up.

Zhu Yong said nothing, watching those civilians run across the opposite bank.

After about a quarter of an hour, fewer people emerged from the gate.

The last to appear was a priest in a black robe, holding a cross, trembling as he stood by the riverbank.

"Prince, shall we fire the cannon?" Wang Gui asked from beside him.

"No need." Zhu Yong dismounted, grabbed the Double Hammers and walked to the riverbank.

The river water rose only to his thighs, icy and bone‑piercing.

Zhu Yong stepped forward one foot at a time, with five thousand Longxiang Army behind him.

The defending troops on the opposite bank began to launch arrows; the arrows struck the plate armor with a clanging burst, not even breaking the skin.

Zhu Di followed, wading and cursing, "These Germans, their arrows are decent, just a bit soft."

Zhu Yong gave no reply.

He was the first to charge onto the opposite bank, swinging the Double Hammers left and right.

Several German soldiers who rushed forward were swept away, crashing into the city wall and splattering brain matter.

The Longxiang Army behind surged forward, firing Flintlock Guns in unison, sabers slashing.

The garrison in Furda city numbered only three thousand plus, and scattered in less than half an hour.

Zhu Yong stood on the central square of the city, looking at the small town ruled by the Black Forest Count.

The Street was narrow, the houses a mix of wood and Stone, dark‑colored.

The ground was littered with trash and excrement, and a foul stench hung in the air.

It was much like a French city, not any better than Portugal.

A few Longxiang Army soldiers cleaned trash at a corner, shoveling it onto a cart with iron spades while cursing.

Zhu Yong ignored them; his gaze fell on the great cathedral in the east of the city.

Built of Stone, its spire rose high, and two stone pillars stood at the entrance, each topped with a cross.

"Prince, the Black Forest Count fled; we didn't catch any nobles in the city, only a few minor lords." Wang Gui reported as he rode back from the front.

"Minor lords are still lords; capture them and send them to the mines."

Wang Gui answered with a nod and turned away.

Zhu Yong stood on the square, staring at the cathedral.

Gold and Silver vessels were melted into silver ingots; the priest sent them to Australia, and the church was turned into a school.

He no longer needed to issue orders for this process; everyone under his command knew what to do.

Li Wenzhong rode in from another Street, holding a freshly written document.

"Prince, the regulation you just mentioned, I have drafted a draft for your review."

Zhu Yong took it and gave it a quick glance.

The document, written in Classical Chinese, recorded his earlier words: Black people are slaves, may not intermarry with white or yellow races; violators will be punished according to law.

The wording was harsh, the tone rigid.

"It's acceptable; add another clause: any officials of any rank who violate shall be stripped of office, investigated, and never reinstated; military and civilians who violate shall be exiled three thousand li." He handed the document back.

Li Wenzhong took it and added that clause with his brush.

"Prince, if this regulation is enforced, the Europeans might cause trouble."

Zhu Yong gave him a look.

"What trouble? They already sell Black people as slaves themselves; at least our king still gives them a mouthful of rice. Those who cause trouble will be sent to work with the Black slaves."

Li Wenzhong nodded, saying nothing more.

He filed the document away and turned to arrange for copies to be distributed.

Zhu Qiong Jiong carried the Wolf Fang Club around the corner, drenched in blood, his face splattered, yet his eyes shone terrifyingly.

"Father, we captured a few up north, hiding in the cathedral's basement, and they were found."

"What kind of people…"

"A few priests, plus some Gold and Silver vessels."

Zhu Qiong Jiong wiped the blood from his face, grinned, "Those priests were chanting in there, thinking God would protect them. I smashed the door with a single club, and they became obedient."

Zhu Yong gave his son a glance.

The boy shows no hesitation when killing, nor does he spare the cathedral.

At twelve he already had this temperament; he'll be fine when grown.

At dusk, the army rested in Furda city.

Zhu Yong sat on a hill north of the city, gazing at the eastern horizon.

The setting sun sank westward, dyeing the entire plain golden.

In the distance, toward Erfurt, ragged columns of routed troops could be seen fleeing east.

"Prince, I have already had fifty copies of that regulation made; they will be dispatched to each camp tomorrow morning." Li Wenzhong rose and sat beside him.

"Cousin, what do you think of this regulation of mine?"

Li Wenzhong thought for a moment then said, "Prince, I think the rule is well set; Black people are naturally lazy, and without strict control they will soon breed trouble."

"Europeans sell them as slaves; we take them in, which is already generous. As for intermarriage, when I was at the Ministry of Heaven I saw several Black‑White mixed children; they showed no trace of yellow traits, all were Black."

"If this rule were absent, in a few decades Great Ming would be full of Black children."

If this rule didn't exist, in a few decades Great Ming would be full of black children everywhere.

Of course, perhaps Zhu Yong is overthinking it; after all, this is Great Ming, not the later era of worshiping foreign things, but such people will exist at any time.

Zhu Yong nodded.

His older cousin was right; Europeans trade slaves for profit, and they restrain black slaves for the long term.

"Prince, the Confucian scholars and Daoists sent by the Crown Prince should be arriving soon," Li Wenzhong added.

Zhu Yong gave a hum.

When the scholars and Daoists arrive, the European churches can be turned into schools.

Daoism teaches following nature, Confucianism teaches benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness—far more reliable than that God.

Europeans have worshiped God for centuries, and their minds have become muddled; they need to read the holy sages' books to awaken insight.

"Prince, there's a situation!" Wang Gui ran up from the hill, his face somewhat grim.

Zhu Yong stood up and took the military report he handed over.

The report was sent by scouts from the front.

After the Count of Hesse fled, he sought refuge to the east with the Elector of Saxony.

Elector of Saxony Rudolf III convened a princes' council at Erfurt; of the seven major electors, four arrived, and together with dozens of medium and minor princes, they mustered about forty thousand troops, now advancing westward.

Forty thousand, plus scattered remnants fleeing from everywhere, makes fifty to sixty thousand no problem.

But in his eyes, fifty to sixty thousand is no different from fifty to sixty thousand ants.

"Send the order: tomorrow at dawn march east toward Erfurt."