Chapter 519: Congo

The army rested at Borneu for three days.

Zhu Xiongying stood on the city wall, gazing at the southern horizon.

The surface of Chade Lake shimmered blue in the sunlight, and waterbirds circled among the distant reeds.

The Borneu Kingdom had fallen, the entire Sahara trade route was now in Great Ming's hands, and next came the tropical rainforest.

The small states scattered across Central Africa—Congo, Luba, Runda—were each harder to defeat than the last.

It's not that they are strong; the roads are impassable.

In the tropical rainforest there are no roads, only thickets and vines, swamps and rivers everywhere; the army's advance is difficult, and the supply lines are hard to maintain.

"Brother, the scouts have returned," Zhu Gaochi came up from beneath the city wall, holding a freshly compiled intelligence report.

Zhu Xiongying took it and unfolded it.

The Congo Kingdom lies in the Congo River basin, its area is vast and its population considerable.

Their king is called Ma Ni Gongguo, with roughly twenty to thirty thousand troops under his command; their equipment is average, but they know the rainforest terrain and excel at guerrilla warfare.

The Luba Kingdom is upstream on the Congo River; its forces are fewer than Congo's, but it controls several copper mines and is dripping with wealth.

The Runda Kingdom lies farther south; it is a small state with few troops, yet its location is strategic, serving as the gateway to southern Africa.

"The three kingdoms together field fifty to sixty thousand troops—not many—but the rainforest is hard to fight in," Zhu Xiongying handed the intelligence to Zhu Gaochi.

Zhu Gaochi read it over, frowned, and said, "Brother, the rainforest is not like the grassland; the roads are poor, the supply lines are long, we must proceed slowly."

"So there's no rush; we should strike Congo first. They are downstream on the Congo River, closest to the sea. Our fleet can sail from the Gulf of Guinea up the Congo River straight to their core region."

Zhu Xiongying turned and walked back into the city.

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

Zhu Shangbing stood before the map, brandishing a stick as he indicated something.

Zhu Jixi crouched at the doorway sharpening his sword, Li Jinglong sat on the threshold reading a book, Zhu Gaoxu lay on the table sketching a 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.

"The Congo Kingdom, in the Congo River basin, is vast; their king is Ma Ni Gongguo, with roughly twenty to thirty thousand troops, familiar with the rainforest terrain and adept at guerrilla warfare.

We will come by sea; the fleet departs from the Gulf of Guinea, sails up the Congo River, and lands in their core area."

Zhu Gaochi pointed to the mouth of the Congo River on the map and said, "Here, the river mouth is wide enough for large vessels. Sailing upstream two to three hundred li from here reaches the Congo Kingdom's core region."

"The fleet leaves the Gulf of Guinea and can reach the Congo River mouth in about half a month," Zhu Xiongying said, drawing a line across the West African coast with his finger.

"QiongJiong, you take the Vanguard Camp ahead. When you reach the Congo River mouth, don't wait—press onward and seize the landing point," Zhu QiongJiong hoisted his Wolf Fang Club onto his shoulder and grinned.

"Shangbing, lead ten thousand troops overland from Borneu southward, crossing the tropical grassland, to contain their forces north of the Congo Kingdom," Zhu Shangbing clasped his fists.

"Chi'er, keep an eye on the grain and fodder. When the fleet arrives, unload the supplies and ammunition first, then the artillery. The rainforest roads are poor; heavy guns can't be brought in, so bring more light mortars," Zhu Gaochi nodded.

At dawn the next day, Zhu QiongJiong led the Vanguard Camp out of Borneu, heading west toward the Gulf of Guinea.

Five thousand elite Longxiang troops, their iron armor glinting coldly in the sun, flintlock guns all pointing west with a swish.

After three days' march they entered the tropical grassland.

The road was easier than in West Africa; the terrain was open, occasional patches of forest did not hinder the march.

After five days, a coastline appeared ahead.

The waters of the Gulf of Guinea shimmered blue in the sun, waves roiling endlessly.

The fleet was already waiting here: three hundred diesel-powered ships formed a single column, their smokestacks belching black smoke.

"Board," Zhu QiongJiong vaulted from his horse and strode onto the gangplank.

Five thousand Vanguard troops boarded in single file.

The fleet slowly sailed out of the Gulf of Guinea, heading south along Africa's western coast.

The sea color shifted from light blue to deep blue, then from deep blue to ink green.

The wind and waves grew fierce; a few small boats were tossed violently, yet Zhu QiongJiong stood at the bow unmoving.

After half a month, the outline of land emerged ahead.

"General, the Congo River mouth is ahead," the Vice General pointed forward.

Zhu QiongJiong squinted and watched for a moment.

The mouth was wide, the current swift, dead branches and leaves floated on the surface, and both banks were dense tropical rainforest, the canopy so thick it blocked out the sun.

"Send word: navigate upstream along the river channel."

The fleet entered the Congo River.

The channel narrowed, the current quickened, and the rainforest on both banks grew ever denser.

After two days, an open clearing appeared ahead.

"General, this spot is suitable for landing," the Vice General spread the map.

"Brace for docking..." the Vanguard ship surged toward the shore.

Zhu QiongJiong was the first to leap ashore, his feet sinking into the wet, soft mud.

The air carried the scent of river water, the smell of decaying leaves, and an indescribable humidity that felt hotter than West Africa.

"Form ranks, move inland."

Five thousand Longxiang troops formed ranks on the shore, flintlock guns swishing toward the interior.

In the rainforest there were no paths, only thickets and vines; thick leaf litter covered the ground, soft underfoot.

The engineering corps cleared the way ahead, hacking vines with machetes and leveling the ground with iron shovels.

After about two hours, a small trail appeared ahead.

The path was narrow, but clearly human‑made, leading into the depths of the forest.

"Follow this trail," Zhu QiongJiong ordered, gripping the horse's reins.

They walked along the trail for about an hour, and a village appeared ahead.

The village is small, only a few dozen households; the houses are built of wood and thatch on stilts to keep out beasts and floods.

A few local black men are sharpening knives at the village entrance; when they see this ironclad army, they drop their knives in fright and run.

Zhu Qiongjiong does not pursue, reins the horse, and stops at the village entrance.

"Send word: set up camp outside the village and dispatch scouts ahead."

The Imperial Troops answer with a nod and go with the men.

The soldiers begin to pitch tents, light fires, and cook.

Zhu Qiongjiong squats at the village entrance, staring blankly at those stilt houses.

An African village is unlike Great Ming, unlike Europe; everything is so primitive.

At dusk, the scouts return.

"General, fifty li ahead we have encountered a Congolese force, about five thousand men, entrenched along the riverbank, blocking the road."

Zhu Qiongjiong rises and slings the Wolf Fang Club over his shoulder.

"How many …"

"Five thousand, plus a few hundred archers hidden in the woods."

"Five thousand, not many." Zhu Qiongjiong turns and walks back to the camp.

At first light the next day, before sunrise, the army departs.

Following the riverbank inland, the path grows harder, thick with brush and vines.

After about two hours of marching, a Congolese defensive line appears ahead.

Five hundred mortars are pushed to the front.

These are far lighter than the rear‑mounted barrel cannons, suitable for jungle warfare; the shells are small but still powerful, capable of blasting a wide area.

"Fire …"

Five hundred mortars fire simultaneously.

The shells cut through the morning mist, striking the Congolese Formation; explosions rise in waves, limbs and arms soar into the air.

The Congolese archers hidden in the woods begin to loose arrows.

Arrows rain down on the Ming army, but bounce off the plate armor with a clatter, not even tearing the skin.

"Longxiang Army, charge with me …"

Zhu Qiongjiong gives a sharp cue to his horse's belly, and the warhorse bursts forward.

Five thousand troops follow closely, their hooves thundering.

He leads at the front, swinging the Wolf Fang Club left and right.

A few Congolese soldiers charge with spears; he sweeps them aside with a single swing, sending five or six flying into trees, their brains splattering.

Behind him, the five thousand troops follow his trail into the Congolese Formation, firing Flintlock Guns in unison, slashing with sabers.

The Congolese weapons are too primitive.

The spears are wooden, the arrowheads are bone, the machetes are iron‑shaped; they have no iron armor, wearing grass‑woven armor.

Each Flintlock Gun makes a hole, each saber a cut; in less than an hour the enemy collapses.

"Send word: gather the captives, keep moving inland." Zhu Qiongjiong reins the horse, hangs the Wolf Fang Club back on the saddle.

At dusk, a city appears ahead.

The city is small; its walls are a mix of wood and earth, gray‑yellow, and a few hundred black soldiers stand at the gate.

A Congolese Kingdom flag flies atop the city, white background with two elephants in the center.

"Form a Formation …" Five thousand Longxiang Army line up outside the city, a hundred mortars arranged in a line.

"Fire …" The shells hit the wood‑earth walls; a single barrage brings down a large section.

Zhu Qiongjiong charges ahead into the city, sweeping the Wolf Fang Club side to side.

A few Congolese soldiers are blasted outward, crashing into the wall, their brains splattering.

Behind him, the five thousand troops follow his trail into the city, firing Flintlock Guns together, slashing with sabers.

The defending force, under three thousand, collapses in less than half an hour.

The Congolese flee quickly, taking a few hundred Imperial Troops southward.

Zhu Qiongjiong does not pursue, reins the horse, and stands in the central plaza of the city.

"Send word: gather the captives, take over the city's defense, send men back to the riverbank with news, the vanguard has been taken."

At dusk, a fleet arrives up the Congolese River.

Three hundred internal‑combustion boats crowd the water, the roar of diesel engines shaking the river itself.

Zhu Gaochi commands the soldiers to unload supplies—Grain and Fodder, ammunition, medicine, mortars—boxes after boxes are off the ships and stacked neatly on the riverbank.

"Chì'er, the Congolese have fled south." Zhu Qiongjiong steps out of the city.

"They can't escape; Shang Bing is north, already containing their remnants." Zhu Gaochi does not look up, continuing to direct the unloading.

On the third day, Zhu Xiongying leads the main force over the Land Route.

Fifty thousand troops set up a continuous camp outside the Congolese city; tents stretch for miles, cooking smoke curls upward.

"Brother, the Congolese have been taken." Zhu Qiongjiong steps forward.

"Hmm …"

Zhu Xiongying stands on the city wall, gazing toward the southern horizon.

There the upper reaches of the Congolese River lie, the direction of the Luba Kingdom.

"Where to strike next?" Zhu Qiongjiong asks.

"South, against Luba; they control several copper mines in the upper Congolese River. Capture Luba and we'll have copper."

Zhu Qiongjiong nods, leans the Wolf Fang Club against the city parapet, pulls a piece of Dry Rations from his chest and bites it.

In the twenty-seventh year of Hongwu, early in the seventh month.

On the fifth day after Congo City was taken, the main army continued pushing south.

Zhu Shangbing pressed down from the north with ten thousand men and joined the main force.

Zhu Jixi led the fleet up the Congo River, transporting grain, fodder, and ammunition.

Zhu Xiongying led the main force in the middle, while Zhu Qiongjiong led the Vanguard Camp at the very front.

After ten days of marching, a stretch of hilly terrain appeared ahead.

The road grew increasingly difficult, with shrubs and vines everywhere, along with rivers and swamps.

The Engineer Battalion cleared the way ahead, cutting trees, filling pits, and building bridges. The main army followed behind, not moving fast, but every step was steady.

After five days of marching, a city appeared ahead.

The city was not large; its walls were built of stone, gray and dull, casting a dim luster under the sunlight.

At the city gate stood several hundred black soldiers, wearing cotton armor and holding long spears.

Above the city gate flew the flag of the Luba Kingdom—a red banner with a copper hammer painted in the center.

"Form ranks." Zhu Xiongying reined in his horse.

The fifty-thousand-strong army began to form ranks, and five hundred mortars were lined up in a row.

"Open fire." The shells smashed into the stone city wall; a single round of bombardment blasted open a breach.

Zhu Qiongjiong charged into the city at the head of his men, his Wolf Fang Club sweeping left and right.

Several Luba soldiers were sent flying.

Behind him, the fifty-thousand-strong army followed his trail into the city, Flintlock Guns firing in volleys, sabers slashing.

The king of the Luba Kingdom fled quickly, taking several hundred Imperial Troops and escaping south.

Zhu Xiongying did not pursue. He reined in his horse and looked at the prisoners kneeling all over the ground.

"Pass the order: gather the prisoners, take over the city's defenses. Luba is taken; the copper mines belong to Great Ming."

At dusk, Zhu Xiongying stood on the city wall of Luba, gazing at the southern horizon.

There lay the direction of the Lunda Kingdom, the gateway to southern Africa.

"Big brother, where do we strike next..." Zhu Qiongjiong walked up.

"South, strike Lunda. Take Lunda, and the gateway to southern Africa will be opened."

"What's in southern Africa?" Zhu Qiongjiong asked.

"Gold, diamonds, ivory, and the Cape of Good Hope. Past the Cape is the Indian Ocean; east is the South Sea, north is Arabia."

Zhu Qiongjiong's eyes lit up. He hoisted his Wolf Fang Club onto his shoulder.

"Pass the order: the entire army rests for three days. In three days, we march south."