Chapter 518: Tropical Rainforest

The twenty-seventh year of Hongwu, May.

West Africa, middle reaches of the Niger River.

Zhu Xiongying stood on the city wall of Kulikoro, gazing at the eastern horizon.

Morning mist drifted over the river surface, enveloping the whole city in a gray‑white shroud.

In the distance on the river, the fleet's smokestacks belched black smoke, and the rumble of diesel engines came faintly.

The Mali Empire had fallen ten days ago; Mansa Musa was locked in the city's dungeon, becoming neighbors with Abu Hassan.

The two captured kings were separated by a wall, and it was said they quarreled daily—one blamed the other for slow reinforcements, the other blamed the other for weak city defense.

"Brother, there's news from Sanghai," Zhu Gaoshi came up from beneath the wall, holding a freshly compiled intelligence report.

Zhu Xiongying took it and unfolded it.

The Sanghai Kingdom lies in the middle reaches of the Niger River, six hundred li east of the Mali Empire.

Their king is Soni Ali, a capable warlord, commanding roughly thirty thousand troops; few cavalry, but elite infantry, and he also controls a navy that moves freely on the Niger River.

"Thirty thousand, plus the remnants that fled from the Mali Empire; reaching forty thousand is no problem," Zhu Xiongying handed the intelligence to Zhu Gaoshi.

Zhu Gaoshi read it once, frowned, and said, "Brother, Sanghai is hard to fight. They occupy the middle Niger, where the waterways are intricate; their navy knows the currents. Though our fleet has strong firepower, we're unfamiliar with the channels and could be at a disadvantage."

"Therefore we'll avoid naval combat, fight on land, advance eastward by land route, bypass the tangled river sections, and take their capital Jia'ao directly," Zhu Xiongying turned and walked back into the city.

In the temporary command post, several people had already gathered.

Zhu Shangbing stood before the map, holding a branch and gesturing at something.

Zhu Jixi crouched at the doorway sharpening his sword, Li Jinglong sat on the threshold reading, Zhu Gaoxu lay on the table sketching the map with a charcoal pencil, and Zhu QiongJiong leaned against a pillar, closing his eyes to rest.

"Everyone's here, let's convene," Zhu Xiongying entered and stopped in front of the map.

"Sanghai Kingdom, middle Niger, capital Jia'ao, king Soni Ali, a capable warlord; his navy moves freely on the Niger, but his infantry and cavalry are inferior to the Mali Empire.

We'll advance eastward by land, bypass the tangled river sections, and take Jia'ao directly."

Zhu Shangbing looked at the map, frowned, and said, "Brother, from Kulikoro to Jia'ao is six hundred li, passing several patches of sparse‑tree grassland and a few swampy areas; the supply line will be hard to maintain."

"Thus we'll transport provisions by water route; the fleet will sail east along the Niger, anchor at the point nearest Jia'ao, and then use camels to haul grain and fodder to the front line."

Zhu Gaoshi nodded, "This plan works; there are several sections in the middle Niger suitable for temporary docks, I'll send people to survey."

"QiongJiong, you lead the Vanguard Camp forward, clear small enemy detachments along the way, set up camp outside Jia'ao, and wait for the main force before assaulting the city."

Zhu QiongJiong slung the Wolf Fang Club onto his shoulder, grinned, and said, "Brother, don't worry."

Early the next morning, Zhu QiongJiong led the Vanguard Camp out of Kulikoro, marching east along the Niger River valley.

Five thousand elite Longxiang Army soldiers, their iron armor glinting coldly in the sun, brandished flintlock guns in unison toward the east.

Each carried three days' Dry Rations and a Water Bag, while the warhorses bore spare supplies.

The road was easier than in West Africa; the sparse‑tree grassland was open, with occasional groves that didn't hinder the march.

After two days, a Sanghai outpost appeared ahead.

A small town, earthen walls, with several hundred black soldiers stationed at the gate.

"Form ranks..." Zhu QiongJiong halted his horse, squinting for a moment.

The five thousand Longxiang Army formed outside the town, a line of one hundred muzzle‑loading cannons arranged side by side.

On the wall, the Sanghai defenders' expressions changed.

They had never seen such a force, encased from head to toe in iron armor, their weapons capable of killing from several hundred steps away.

"Fire the cannons..."

One hundred muzzle‑loading cannons fired simultaneously.

Shrapnel shells struck the earthen wall, and a single volley demolished a large section.

Zhu QiongJiong gave his horse a sharp press on the belly, and the warhorse surged forward.

The five thousand troops followed closely, their hooves thundering.

He burst through the breach into the town, swinging the Wolf Fang Club left and right; several Sanghai soldiers were flung outward, smashing into the wall with brains splattering.

The defenders, fewer than a thousand, scattered in less than half an hour.

"Send orders: round up the captives, take over the city defenses, dispatch messengers to report, the outpost is secured."

At dusk, Zhu Xiongying received word that the main army continued eastward.

Zhu Shangbing led ten thousand men at the front, the main force trailed behind, and Zhu Gaoshi commanded the fleet transporting grain and fodder on the Niger River.

After four days, a swampy area appeared ahead.

The road was difficult, riddled with mud pits and water holes; the engineering camp paved ahead, laying cut branches over the mud, then covering them with gravel and dry straw.

The army formed a long column, one after another, slowly crossing the swamp.

Zhu QiongJiong rode at the front; his warhorse sank into the mud, he dismounted, slung the Wolf Fang Club onto his shoulder, and trudged forward through the mire.

His boots stuck in the mud, pulling them out was laborious, yet he walked steadily, unbothered by being covered in mud.

After a full day, the army finally crossed the swamp.

Ahead lay an open stretch of sparse‑tree grassland, with the faint outline of a city on the horizon.

"General, Jia'ao lies ahead..." the Vice General rode up.

Zhu QiongJiong halted his horse, squinting for a moment.

Jia'ao city is larger than Kulikoro; its walls are built of Stone, gray‑hazy, emitting a dull sheen in the sunlight.

The walls were lined with soldiers, artillery already emplaced, the muzzles blackened and pointing outward.

Atop the city flew the Sanghai Kingdom's banner, blue field with white stars.

"Form ranks..." the five thousand Longxiang Army formed outside the city, a line of one hundred muzzle‑loading cannons arranged side by side.

On the wall, the Sanghai defenders' expressions changed.

Soni Ali stood on the tower, wearing a long robe embroidered with gold thread, a Gold Crown on his head, and a jeweled curved blade in his hand.

Behind him stood dozens of generals, each with a solemn expression.

After the cannon fire...

"Longxiang Army, charge with me..." Zhu Qiong Jiong squeezed the horse's belly, and the warhorse rushed out.

The five thousand troops followed closely, their hooves thundering like drums.

He burst through the breach into the city, swinging the Wolf Fang Club left and right, and several Sanghai soldiers were smashed and flung outward.

Behind him, the five thousand troops followed his path into the city, firing Flintlock Guns in unison, and cutting with sabers.

Soni Ali stood on the city tower, watching the iron‑black tide surge forward, his face pallid.

He hadn't expected the Great Ming forces to arrive so quickly, let alone that the city walls couldn't hold for even half a day.

"Retreat, quickly retreat!" He turned his horse, leading the Imperial Troops northward.

Zhu Qiong Jiong pursued, smashing the Marshal flag of the Sanghai Kingdom with a club.

The large blue‑backed, white‑star banner fell with a crash, its foot pressed into the mud by hooves.

Soni Ali fled less than half a li before a squad of Longxiang Army cavalry blocked his path.

He halted his horse, staring at the iron‑clad soldiers, his curved blade falling to the ground.

"Surrender, I surrender."

Zhu Qiong Jiong rode up, looking down at him from his height.

Jia'ao City was taken, the Sanghai Kingdom annihilated.

Zhu Xiongying stood on the central square, gazing at this largest mid‑river city of the Niger River.

The Street was wider than Kulikoro, the houses built of Stone and aged.

The ground was littered with trash and dung, and the air reeked with a foul smell.

"Prince, we captured several nobles of the Sanghai Kingdom," Zhu Gaochi came up from behind.

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

Zhu Gaochi replied, then asked, "What about those prisoners? Over ten thousand of them."

"Integrate them as auxiliary troops, have them build roads, mine, and plant cotton; the Mali Empire and the Sanghai Kingdom have both been conquered, leaving only a few small territories in West Africa. We needn't go ourselves; dispatch tens of thousands of soldiers to take each city in turn."

Zhu Gaochi nodded, turned and went to make arrangements.

Zhu Xiongying turned, looking toward the eastern horizon.

There lay the direction of Central Africa, the direction of the tropical rainforest.

"Brother, where shall we strike next?" Zhu Qiong Jiong came up.

"Eastward, attack the Bolnu Kingdom."

"Bolnu? Where is it?"

"Around Lake Chad, at the southern edge of the Sahara Desert, it's a small nation but controls the eastern segment of the Sahara Trade Route. Capture Bolnu, and the entire Sahara Trade Route will be in Great Ming's hands."

Zhu Qiong Jiong nodded, leaning the Wolf Fang Club against the wall.

In the evening, Zhu Xiongying sat on the steps of Jia'ao Palace, watching the sunset.

Far away, the Niger River glimmered golden in the sunset, its fleet's smokestacks still belching black smoke.

Zhu Gaochi entered from outside, holding a letter just delivered from the rear.

"Brother, a letter from the Yingtian Prefecture."

Zhu Xiongying took it, unfolded it. The letter was written by Zhu Biao, its content brief, the handwriting as orderly as always.

"Xiong Ying, the African campaign proceeds smoothly, Imperial Father is pleased, your second uncle says not to rush, take your time, safety first, your mother constantly reminds you to write more letters back."

"Take care..."

Zhu Xiongying, after reading, folded the paper neatly and slipped it into his sleeve.

"Brother, what did the elder uncle say?" Zhu Qiong Jiong asked beside him.

"He wants me to write more letters."

Zhu Qiong Jiong grinned.

In the twenty‑seventh year of Hongwu, early June.

On the fifth day after Jia'ao City fell, the main army continued eastward.

Zhu Shangbing led ten thousand men by Land Route, advancing east along the Niger River valley, while Zhu Jixi commanded a fleet via Water Route, transporting Grain and Fodder and ammunition.

Zhu Xiongying led the main force of fifty thousand in the middle, and Zhu Qiong Jiong led the Vanguard Camp at the forefront.

Zhu Gaochi stayed in Jia'ao, overseeing the rear Grain and Fodder allocation.

After ten days' march, a great lake appeared ahead. Its water was azure, stretching endlessly, the banks dense with reed swamps, and flocks of waterbirds flew over the surface.

"Brother, ahead lies Lake Chad," Zhu Gaoxu rode up, map in hand.

Zhu Xiongying halted his horse, squinting as he watched for a while.

Lake Chad was larger than he imagined, its surface broad and sparkling.

The Bolnu Kingdom lay on the lake's east side, controlling the eastern segment of the Sahara Trade Route.

"Send the order, march east along the lake shore."

The army advanced east along the southern shore of Lake Chad.

The road was difficult, swamp and reed everywhere; the Engineer Corps cleared the way ahead.

After two days, a city emerged ahead.

The city was small, its walls made of adobe, gray‑yellow.

At the gate stood several hundred black soldiers, clad in cotton armor, brandishing spears.

Atop the city fluttered the Bolnu Kingdom's banner, red background with a white moon.

"Form the ranks..."

Zhu Xiongying reined in his horse.

Fifty thousand troops began to form ranks, and five hundred rear‑mounted line cannons were arrayed in a single line.

On the city wall, the faces of the Borunu defenders changed.

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

"Fire." The five hundred rear‑mounted line cannons fired simultaneously.

Shrapnel shells struck the mud‑brick city wall, and a single barrage blew a large section apart.

Zhu QiongJiong rode ahead, charging into the city, sweeping left and right with his Wolf Fang Club.

The defenders numbered fewer than five thousand, and in less than an hour they scattered.

With such fine cannons, warfare became simple: the cannons smashed the city walls, then we could just rush inside, and the Flintlock Guns firing from behind would sweep away a large area.

The king of the Borunu Kingdom fled quickly, taking a few hundred Imperial Troops eastward.

Zhu Xiongying did not pursue; he reined in his horse and looked at the captives kneeling on the ground.

"Send word: round up the captives, take over the city defenses; Borunu has fallen, the Sahara Trade Route is now wholly in Great Ming's hands."

Zhu QiongJiong stepped forward, the Wolf Fang Club slung over his shoulder.

"Big brother, where shall we strike next?"

"Southward, to fight those small nations in the tropical rainforest."

"Tropical rainforest..."

"Congo, Luba, Runda—these small states scattered throughout Central Africa's tropical rainforest; their territories aren't small, but their forces are weak. We can take them city by city."

Zhu QiongJiong nodded, then asked, "How long will it take?"

"If we're quick, a year; if slow, two years."

Zhu QiongJiong grinned.

He had only been fighting in Africa for a few months and wasn't in a hurry to return.

Zhu Xiongying turned around, gazing at the southern horizon.

There, toward the tropical rainforest, toward the Congo River, lay the new battlefield.