Chapter 463: Moscow Principality

The snow in Finland Bay fell earlier than in previous years.

Zhu Yong stood on Helsinki's city wall, reaching out to catch a drifting snowflake.

The snowflake melted in his palm, the icy chill passing through his iron glove.

The fighting along the Baltic Sea coast had ended half a month ago.

After King Eric XIII of Sweden was captured, the Danes fled, the Norwegians surrendered, and the small Nordic states each sent envoys, kneeling outside the tent to beg for submission.

The land was confiscated, property registered, and the nobles were sent to Yingtian Prefecture for resettlement.

Those willing stayed; those unwilling, Zhu Yong ordered Zhu Di to advance north with twenty‑thousand Longxiang Army, taking city after city.

"Prince, news has come from the Moscow side," Wang Gui walked up from below the wall, his boots crunching on the packed snow.

Zhu Yong turned and took the military report he handed over.

Vasili II ultimately chose to fight.

He gathered about thirty‑thousand troops in the Moscow Principality, added some men from Novgorod and the Tver Principality, and, with remnants that had fled from Lithuania, mustered over forty‑thousand.

Forty thousand men.

Add the winter.

The winter of the Moscow Principality is indeed hard to contend with; in a previous life he had read that Napoleon and Hitler both fell because of it.

But that was them, not him.

"Send the order: the whole army will rest in Helsinki for three days, then march east; the target is Novgorod," Zhu Yong folded the report and slipped it into his sleeve.

Novgorod is the largest city in the northwest of the Moscow Principality, the gateway to Moscow.

Capture Novgorod, and Moscow will have no defenses left.

"Prince, Prince Yan has returned from the north," Wang Gui said, pointing into the distance.

Zhu Yong followed his gaze and saw a cavalry unit riding in from the north, led by Zhu Di.

He wore a suit of iron armor, splattered with blood, yet his face was clean; he dismounted and strode up the wall.

"Second Prince, the small states up north have all been dealt with; those who should surrender have, those who should flee have, and the remaining scattered troops have fled into the forests," Zhu Di said, clasping his fists as he approached Zhu Yong.

Zhu Yong nodded, looking at the frostbite on his brother's face.

The Nordic winter was colder than he had imagined; Zhu Di's face was reddened by the cold, and his lips were split with several cracks.

"It's frozen…"

"It doesn't matter… it's much warmer than the winter in the Western Regions; over there it's called hot, the wind feels like a knife," Zhu Di said with a grin.

Zhu Yong said nothing, pulling out a map and spreading it on the rampart.

Novgorod, the largest city in the northwest of the Moscow Principality, is also the Hanseatic League's most important trade hub in Eastern Europe.

"Capture Novgorod, and Moscow will have no defenses; even if Vasili II wanted to flee, there would be nowhere to go," Zhu Yong said, pointing at Novgorod on the map.

Zhu Di looked at the map and frowned, "Novgorod is not on the sea; it's inland."

"It's not on the sea, but it is on a river; the Volkhof River runs through the city into Lake Ladoga. Our ships can go from the Baltic Sea into Lake Ladoga, then from the lake into the Volkhof River, straight to the foot of Novgorod city."

Zhu Di asked no further questions.

That night, the camp outside Helsinki glowed with a bright bonfire.

The soldiers sat around the fire pit, gnawing on dry rations and drinking hot soup.

Zhu Yong sat in the Central Command Tent, a map of Novgorod spread before him.

Zhu Qiongjiong carried a bowl of hot soup in, placing it on the table.

"Father, may I have some soup…"

Zhu Yong took the bowl and took a sip; it was fish soup made from Baltic Sea fish.

A pinch of salt and dried wild greens were added; the taste was decent.

"Father, they say it's very cold over in Moscow…" Zhu Qiongjiong squatted by the fire pit, reaching out to warm his hands.

"Colder than here, much colder. Wear those bear‑skin coats you traded from the polar bears when the time comes."

Zhu Qiongjiong grinned, "I'm not afraid of the cold."

Zhu Yong looked at his son.

The thirteen‑year‑old boy was sun‑tanned dark, his arms full of muscle.

In the past year, he had gone from a thirteen‑year‑old child to a warrior radiating killing aura, like him, yet not entirely.

"Go to sleep; we have to march tomorrow," Zhu Yong said, setting the bowl down.

Zhu Qiongjiong replied, rose, and left.

Early the next morning, the army set out from Helsinki. Heading east, the snow fell heavier.

Across the snow‑covered plain, Heaven and Earth were a boundless white.

After five days, a lake appeared ahead.

Lake Ladoga, the largest lake in Europe, was iced over, a white expanse with no visible horizon.

The fleet entered Lake Ladoga from Finland Bay; steamships broke through the ice, carving black channels across the surface.

"Prince, ahead is the mouth of the Volkhof River," Wang Gui climbed down from the mast.

The Volkhof River flows out of Lake Ladoga, runs south through Novgorod, and empties into Irmen Lake.

Ice also covered the river surface, but thinner than the lake's ice.

The steamship broke the ice and slowly entered the river mouth.

Dense forests lined both banks, with occasional small villages sending up curling smoke.

Villagers stood by the river, watching the iron‑armored fleet, their eyes showing both fear and curiosity.

After two days, the outline of Novgorod appeared ahead.

The city walls were a gray haze, faintly visible in the snow.

"Form the formation..."

Eighty thousand troops began forming on the He Xi banks.

Five hundred rear‑mounted line cannons were lined up in a single file, their muzzles aimed at Novgorod's city wall.

On the city wall, the faces of the Moscow garrison changed.

They had never seen so many ironclad soldiers, never seen so many cannons.

A few nobles on horseback ran back and forth on the wall, brandishing swords and shouting something.

"Fire the cannons..."

The five hundred rear‑mounted line cannons fired simultaneously.

The shells struck the wall, exploding into cracks.

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

Zhu Yong grasped his horse's flank, and the warhorse surged forward.

Eighty thousand troops followed closely, hooves treading the packed snow, raising a cloud of snow and mist.

Novgorod's defenders fought to the death, even hurling Rolling Logs and crushing stones from the wall, pouring hot oil.

But before Great Ming's cannons and plate armor, these medieval tactics appeared feeble and powerless.

In less than two hours, the city fell.

Zhu Yong stood on the central square, looking at this Hanseatic League's most important trade hub in Eastern Europe.

Novgorod had been taken, Moscow's gateway had been pierced.

"Prince, Wa Si Li Er Shi is not in the city," Wang Gui rode back from the front.

"Where..."

"In Moscow, he sent his son to guard the city, and he fled."

Zhu Yong's mouth twitched slightly.

If he ran, let him run.

Anyway, Moscow can't escape.

At dusk, Zhu Yong stood on Novgorod's wall, gazing toward the eastern horizon.

The direction of Moscow.

"Prince, General Chang's military report sent from America," Li Wenzhong walked up from behind, handing a parchment.

Zhu Yong took it.

General Chang's handwriting was as always rough and scribbled.

Central America had been completely captured; the Maya's last city‑state surrendered three days ago.

The pyramids were dismantled, the idols smashed, the populace registered, and the land being allocated.

Now he is leading troops northward, the target being the Qiqi Mek people's Grassland.

Zhu Yong, after reading, handed the military report to Li Wenzhong.

"General Chang's side is progressing faster than ours."

"America has many small states, scattered, unlike Europe where they unite," Li Wenzhong said after reading, returning the report.

Zhu Yong nodded.

South America has not moved yet; there lies the Inca Empire, said to be larger than the Aztec, with more Gold and Silver.

No rush, step by step.

"Prince, we captured several Novgorod nobles, how shall we deal with them?" Wang Gui came up from below the city.

"Confiscate the land, register the assets, and send the people to mine."

The next day, the army continued eastward.

Vostrovodsk, Yuriyev, Klin... each city was captured.

Scattered soldiers and wanderers slipped into the forest, waiting for spring to bloom.

But Great Ming's army would not stop.

When Moscow's walls appeared in view, the snow had already stopped.

The sun emerged from behind the clouds, shining on the Kremlin's golden dome, glittering.

Wa Si Li Er Shi stood on the wall, looking at the ironclad army gradually advancing from the south.

Flintlock Guns swished in unison toward the sky.

He had fought wars half his life, never seen such an army.

From the Poles, Lithuanians, Teutonic Order, Livonian Order, Swedes, Danes, Norwegians...

Those defeat reports arrived one by one, each nation's flag fell.

Now, it's his turn.

"Send the order, hold Moscow to the death."

Wa Si Li Er Shi's voice trembled.

Moscow's walls were high and thick, immovable by cannon fire.

His soldiers stood on the wall, Arrow raining down.

But striking plate armor, they clanged and shattered, not even breaking the skin.

The Moscow Principality fought desperately, yet they did not understand that before absolute power, courage and will are futile.

The city fell...

Wa Si Li Er Shi was bound with five‑flower ropes, kneeling before Zhu Yong.

"Confiscate the land, register the assets, and send the nobles to the Yingtian Prefecture for settlement."

Moscow Principality, it's over.

Zhu Yong stood on the wall of the Kremlin, gazing at the western horizon.

From Lisbon to Moscow, from Portugal to Russia, more than half of the European continent is already in Great Ming's hands.

The remaining small states will be taken, city by city, when spring warms and flowers bloom.

America, Mexico City.

Chang Yuchun stood on the city wall, looking toward the northern horizon.

Lan Yu led ten thousand men northward, already entering the Qiqi Mek people's Grassland.

Those nomadic tribes were still resisting.

But Chang Yuchun knew they could not hold out for long.

Europe, Novgorod.

Zhu Yong stood on the pier by the Volkhov River, watching the thawed river surface.

The ice sheet cracked, revealing dark‑colored river water.