Chapter 520: Cape of Good Hope

In the twenty‑seventh year of the Hongwu era, on the border of the Longda Kingdom.

Morning mist drifted down from the hills, cloaking the entire sparse woodland Grassland in a gray‑white veil.

Zhu Xiongying halted his horse and stared toward the southern horizon. That direction marked the Longda Kingdom, the gateway to southern Africa, and their next target.

"Brother, the scouts have returned." Zhu Gaochi rode forward from ahead, holding a freshly compiled intelligence report.

Zhu Xiongying took it and unfolded it.

The Longda Kingdom lies on the upper Congo River, three hundred li south of the Luba Kingdom.

Its territory is small, but it controls several trade routes to southern Africa; ivory, gold and slaves are shipped from here to North and East Africa.

The king is Muwata Kazzambe, commanding roughly twenty thousand troops; cavalry are few, but the infantry are well‑equipped and adept at fighting on sparse woodland Grassland.

"Twenty thousand, plus the remnants that fled from Luba and Congo, reaching thirty thousand is no problem." Zhu Xiongying handed the intelligence to Zhu Gaochi.

Zhu Gaochi read it once, frowned, and said, "Brother, Longda won't be easy to take. It's not that they have many soldiers; it's the distance. From Luba to Longda is three hundred li, crossing several swamps and hills, and the supply line would be too long."

"So we're not in a hurry. Let the fleet sail up the Congo River, anchor at the point nearest Longda, then use camels to haul Grain and Fodder to the front line." Zhu Xiongying turned and walked back to the camp.

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 squatted at the doorway sharpening his knife, Li Jinglong sat on the threshold reading a book, Zhu Gaoxu lay on the table drawing the map with a charcoal pencil, and Zhu QiongJiong leaned against a pillar, closing his eyes to rest.

Zhu Xiongying entered, stopped before the map and said, "Longda Kingdom, upper Congo River, King Muwata Kazzambe, about twenty thousand troops under his command.

Capture Longda and the gateway to southern Africa will open."

Zhu Shangbing looked at the map, frowned and said, "Brother, Longda is on the upper Congo River; can the fleet go upstream?"

"Yes. The upper Congo is narrower than downstream, but the current is gentle; small boats can navigate, large ships stay at Luba, and we'll switch to small boats upstream." Zhu Xiongying's finger traced a line on the map.

Zhu Gaochi nodded, "That plan works; Luba has several shipyards where we can refit small boats."

Zhu QiongJiong hoisted the Wolf Fang Club onto his shoulder and said, "Brother, I'll lead the vanguard."

Zhu Xiongying gave him a glance, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth, and said, "We can't do without you."

Early the next morning, Zhu QiongJiong led the Vanguard Camp from Luba, heading south along the Congo River.

Five thousand Longxiang Army elite, their iron armor glinting coldly in the sun, Flintlock Guns bristling toward the south.

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

After two days' march, they entered the hilly region.

The road grew harder, dense with scrub, vines, swamps and streams.

The engineering camp cleared the way ahead, felling trees, filling pits, and building bridges.

After five days, an open plain appeared ahead.

A few towering baobab trees rose on the horizon, trunks massive, crowns bare, like carrots stuck upside‑down into the ground.

"General, the border of Longda Kingdom lies ahead," the Vice General rode up.

Zhu QiongJiong halted his horse, squinting for a moment.

In the distance, faint villages could be seen, smoke curling upward, the air scented with fireworks and roasted meat.

He swallowed and pressed onward.

After roughly two more hours, a city emerged ahead.

The town was small; its walls were made of sun‑dried mud bricks, gray‑yellow, and at the gate stood several hundred black soldiers in cotton armor, brandishing spears.

A Longda Kingdom banner fluttered atop the walls, white background with a black elephant at its center.

"Form ranks!" Zhu QiongJiong halted his horse.

Five thousand Longxiang Army formed ranks outside the city.

One hundred mortars lined up in a row, their barrels aimed at the walls.

These light artillery pieces are far more useful in rainforest and Grassland than the heavy breech‑loading cannons; though less powerful, they are portable—two men can carry one.

On the walls, the Longda defenders' faces turned pale.

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

Several commanders ran along the walls, brandishing swords and shouting, their voices trembling.

"Fire the mortars…"

All one hundred mortars fired simultaneously.

The shells ripped through the air, striking the mud‑brick wall.

One barrage collapsed a large section of the wall.

The mud wall was too thin; it couldn't hold.

"Longxiang Army, charge with me!" Zhu QiongJiong squeezed his horse's girth, and the warhorse surged forward.

Five thousand troops followed close behind, hooves thundering.

He led the charge, rushing through the breach into the city, swinging the Wolf Fang Club side to side.

A few Longda soldiers thrust spears forward; his club swept them aside, five or six bodies flew, slamming into the wall, brains splattering.

Behind him, the five thousand troops followed his path into the city, Flintlock Guns firing in unison, cavalry swords slashing.

The Longda defenders, fewer than three thousand, broke apart in less than half an hour.

The defending commander fled quickly, taking several hundred Imperial Troops southward.

Zhu QiongJiong did not pursue, halted his horse, and stood on the central plaza, saying, "Send orders: round up the captives, take over the city defenses, dispatch messengers to report back, the outpost is secured."

At dusk, Zhu Xiongying received word that the main force continued southward.

The main body of fifty thousand trailed behind, and Zhu Gaochi commanded the fleet to transport Grain and Fodder along the Congo River.

On the third day, the main force arrived at Longda City.

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

That way is the direction of southern Africa, the direction of the Zambezi River, and also the new battlefield.

"Brother, Longda has been taken, where shall we strike next?" Zhu Qiong Jiong stepped forward.

"Southward, attack Xinbawi."

"Xinbawi? Where is it?"

"Between the Zambezi River and the Linbobo River lies a great Stone City, the most prosperous place in southern Africa, with gold mines, ivory, gold—everything."

Zhu Qiong Jiong's eyes brightened: "How many people?"

"The scouts report they can muster twenty‑to‑thirty thousand troops, equipment average, but they are garrisoned in Stone City, easy to defend, hard to attack."

Zhu Qiong Jiong grinned, slinging the Wolf Fang Club over his shoulder: "Stone City, what of it? No matter how thick the walls, they can't stop Great Ming's artillery."

Zhu Xiongying nodded.

This younger cousin, sharing his second uncle's disposition, sees even the thickest walls as nothing more than a hammer's work.

On the fifth day after Longda City was taken, the army continued marching south.

Zhu Shangbing led ten thousand men at the front, Zhu Jixi commanded a fleet along the Congo River transporting Grain and Fodder, Zhu Xiongying led the main force in the middle, and Zhu Qiong Jiong led the Vanguard Camp at the forefront.

After ten days' march, a plateau appeared ahead.

The terrain was open and endless, with occasional solitary trees.

The scenery here was completely different from North Africa—no dunes, no desert, only golden Grassland and blue sky.

After another five days, the outline of Stone City emerged ahead.

The walls were built of Stone, gray‑white, glimmering a dull light under the sun.

The walls were crowded with soldiers; archers drew their bows, spearmen formed a strict line awaiting.

"Form the battle line…" Zhu Xiongying halted his horse.

Fifty thousand troops began forming outside the city.

Five hundred breech‑loading cannons were lined up in a row, their muzzles aimed at Stone City's walls.

On the walls, the Xinbawi defenders' expressions changed.

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

The king knelt on the city tower, praying to the gods, his legs trembling.

"Fire…"

The five hundred breech‑loading cannons fired simultaneously.

Shrapnel shells ripped through the air, striking Stone City's walls; explosions rose in waves, bricks and stones shattered, smoke billowed skyward.

Though Stone City was sturdy, it could not withstand the barrage of shrapnel shells.

After several rounds of bombardment, a large breach was blown in the wall.

"Longxiang Army, charge with me!" Zhu Qiong Jiong tightened his grip on his horse's belly, and the warhorse surged forward.

Fifty thousand troops followed closely, their hooves thundering.

He surged ahead, brandishing the Wolf Fang Club, rushing through the breach into the city, sweeping left and right.

Several Xinbawi soldiers charged with spears; he swung his club, sending five or six flying, they slammed into the wall, their brains splattering.

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

The Xinbawi defenders fought to the death, but before Great Ming's iron hooves, any resistance was futile.

In less than two hours, the city fell.

The Xinbawi king was dragged from the palace, bound in five‑fold ropes, and forced to kneel on the ground.

He lifted his head, looking at Zhu Xiongying, his eyes filled with fear and unwillingness.

"Send word: gather the captives, take over the city's defenses."

Zhu Xiongying stood atop the highest building of Stone City, gazing toward the southern horizon.

That direction was that of the Linbobo River, deeper into southern Africa.

"Brother, where shall we strike next?" Zhu Qiong Jiong stepped forward.

"Southward, attack Monomotapa."

"Monomotapa? Where is it?"

"South of the Linbobo River, there are also gold mines; capture Monomotapa, and all of southern Africa will be in Great Ming's hands."

Zhu Qiong Jiong nodded, resting the Wolf Fang Club against the city parapet.

The evening at Stone City was beautiful; the setting sun bathed the whole city in golden hue.

In the distance, the Grassland glimmered in the afterglow, like a golden sea.

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

On the tenth day after Stone City fell, the army continued southward.

Zhu Shangbing led ten thousand men at the front, Zhu Jixi commanded a fleet along the Zambezi River transporting Grain and Fodder, Zhu Xiongying led the main force in the middle, and Zhu Qiong Jiong led the Vanguard Camp at the forefront.

After half a month, a plateau appeared ahead.

The scenery here resembled Xinbawi, an endless Grassland with occasional solitary trees.

After another ten days, a city emerged ahead.

The city was small; its walls were built of Stone, gray‑white, and atop the walls fluttered the flag of the Monomotapa Kingdom, red background with a golden sun at its center.

"Form the battle line…" Zhu Xiongying halted his horse.

Fifty thousand troops began forming.

Five hundred breech‑loading cannons were lined up in a row, their muzzles aimed at the walls.

"Fire…"

After several rounds of bombardment, a large breach was blown in the wall.

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

The garrison of Mo Nuomo Tapa, fewer than twenty thousand strong, collapsed in less than two hours.

The king was dragged out of the palace by a few Longxiang Army soldiers, knelt on the ground, trembling all over.

In the evening, Zhu Xiongying stood on the city wall of Mo Nuomo Tapa, gazing at the southern horizon.

That was the direction of South Africa, the direction of the Cape of Good Hope.

"Brother, where shall we fight next?" Zhu QiongJiong stepped forward.

"Southward, take the Cape of Good Hope; once we seize it, Africa will be in Great Ming's hands."

Zhu QiongJiong's eyes brightened, hoisting the Wolf Fang Club onto his shoulder: "Brother, I must lead the vanguard."

Zhu Xiongying gave him a glance, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth, and said, "There's no rush to lead the charge; let the brothers rest for a few days first."

Zhu QiongJiong nodded, leaning the Wolf Fang Club against the rampart.

The news that Mo Nuomo Tapa had fallen reached Yingtian Fu by late October.

Zhu Yuanzhang sat in Qianqing Palace, clutching the battle report in his hand, reading it several times.

Empress Ma sat beside him, stitching with needle and thread, occasionally looking up at him.

"Zhong Ba, what's wrong?"

Zhu Yuanzhang handed the report to her: "Xiong Ying's side fought another battle; Mo Nuomo Tapa has been taken, and now they're moving toward the Cape of Good Hope."

Empress Ma took the report, glanced at it a few times, her eyes slightly red: "That kid QiongJiong, just like his father, fights without regard for his life."

Zhu Yuanzhang hummed, "The descendants of the Zhu Family should be like this."

He stood up, paced a few steps in the hall, then stopped abruptly: "Young lady, when do you think Xiong Ying's battle can be finished?"

Empress Ma thought for a moment: "If it's quick, by the end of the year; if slow, early next spring."

Zhu Yuanzhang nodded, saying nothing more.

He walked to the window, looking at the western sky.

Outside, the setting sun sank in the west, dyeing the entire Imperial City golden.

Beyond Yingtian Fu, at the construction site, workers were still busily laying tracks.

The railway from Yingtian to Lanzhou had long been completed, the line from Lanzhou to Samarchan was also finished, and the track from Samarchan to Constantinople was under construction.

One day, the railway will reach Africa, reaching the Cape of Good Hope.