Chapter 78: Swamp

Night deepened.

In the camp, aside from the soldiers on watch, most people were asleep.

At that moment, footsteps came from outside the tent—it was Wang Gui.

Wang Gui, like Zhang Wuhe and Chen Heng, is now a Royal Guard Captain under Zhu Yong, so he came along.

"Prince, still awake?" Wang Gui lifted the tent curtain and entered, carrying a bowl of hot soup.

"Can't sleep. Why aren't you sleeping either?" Zhu Yong took the soup bowl.

"I just went on guard duty; the brothers were freezing cold. I had the Firehead Soldiers heat more water in this damned place. It's hot by day and cold by night—hardly livable," Wang Gui said, sitting opposite.

Zhu Yong took a sip of the hot soup and asked, "How are the horses?"

"They're fine, but fodder is scarce. The grass in Mobei is hard and dry; the horses don't like it," Wang Gui sighed. "We need to find a place with abundant water soon, let the horses rest a few days, otherwise we won't make it to Buyuerhai."

"Beyond the swamp, there should be good pastures," Zhu Yong recalled Wang Baobao's words.

The two chatted for a while, then Wang Gui returned to rest.

Zhu Yong lay down and closed his eyes.

In his mind floated images of Yingtian Fu, his mother in Kunning Palace, his father in Qianqing Palace, his elder brother in the Eastern Palace, and... Guanyin Nu.

The next day, at the hour of Yin, before dawn, the army broke camp and set out.

In the early morning, the Grassland was shrouded in white mist, visibility very low.

The soldiers led their horses, stepping deep then shallow as they walked across the grass.

Zhu Yong rode the Wuzhui Horse, leading the column.

The Wuzhui Horse seemed well adapted to the terrain, its gait steady, occasionally snorting, though its body had grown quite gaunt over this period.

After walking for about an hour, the sky brightened and the mist began to lift.

Ahead, an endless swamp unfolded.

Puddles dotted the ground like stars, with withered grass and reeds thickly growing, and some spots still covered with thin ice.

"This is the spot, Prince. We must dismount and walk; riding will make us sink," Wang Baobao held the horse.

Zhu Yong tossed his mount aside, and to the messenger behind him said, "Relay: the whole army dismounts, leads the horses on foot, watch your steps, don't sink into the mud."

The order spread, and five thousand soldiers dismounted one after another.

Lan Yu walked to Zhu Yong's side, glared at the swamp, and cursed, "Damn it, how do we get through this?"

"Follow me. I passed through here a few years ago and remember a relatively passable route," Wang Baobao led the way.

He examined the swamp's edge carefully for a while, chose a direction, and was the first to step in.

Zhu Yong led the Wuzhui Horse and followed.

The swamp was indeed hard to traverse.

Underfoot was soft mud; each step would sink half a foot in.

Some spots looked like grassland on the surface, but stepping on them revealed deep pits, requiring a wooden stick to probe ahead.

The horses struggled even more, occasionally getting stuck, needing several people to pull them free.

After less than three li, the column stretched out long.

Zhu Yong glanced back and said to Wang Baobao, "This is too slow; at this pace we won't get out of this swamp in a day."

Wang Baobao gave a wry smile, "There's no choice; this is already the fastest route, Prince, look..."

Then he pointed to the distance, "That area looks flat, but underneath is a deep pool; anyone who falls in can't get out."

Zhu Yong looked where he indicated and indeed saw a puddle; the water surface was calm, but the surrounding grass was all withered.

"Toxic?" Zhu Yong asked.

"It's not poison; it's Swamp Gas. Decaying matter beneath the swamp releases toxic fumes; inhaling too much makes people dizzy, and severe cases can be fatal.

Last time I came, two brothers died by that kind of pond," Wang Baobao explained.

Wang Baobao explained.

Zhu Yong nodded and said nothing more.

The army pressed on.

By noon, they had covered less than ten li.

The soldiers were both exhausted and hungry; Zhu Yong ordered a one‑hour rest.

Without dry firewood to light a fire, they could only gnaw the cold, hard Dry Rations.

Zhu Yong sat on a relatively dry mound of earth, looking at the jerky in his hand.

The jerky was specially made before the expedition, salted and spiced to last long, but as hard as a stone.

He bit down hard, chewing slowly.

Lan Yu came over, handed him a Water Bag and said, "Prince, have some water."

Zhu Yong took it, gulped, and asked, "How are the brothers doing?"

"They're fine, though a few have sprained ankles and the army doctor has treated them. At this pace, can we get out before nightfall?" Lan Yu said, sitting beside him.

"Enough!" Zhu Yong looked at Wang Baobao.

Wang Baobao, surveying the terrain, turned back at the remark and said, "At the current pace we still need at least three more hours; we should reach the North Bank before dark, but we'll have to rush the night march."

"Rushing a night march is too dangerous; the swamp is unreadable at night," Lan Yu frowned.

"Then we spend the night in the swamp?" Zhu Yong asked.

Wang Baobao shook his head, "Even more dangerous. Night temperatures drop, the swamp freezes; people and horses can't endure, and if any toxic substances appear…"

He didn't finish his sentence, but the meaning was clear.

Zhu Yong stood, brushed the earth off himself, and said, "Then we quicken our pace; we must get out before nightfall."

After the rest ended, the army moved forward.

This time Zhu Yong moved to the front; he is strong, and when the path became difficult he simply brought stones or dead wood to lay down as a road.

When encountering a deep pit, he alone can pull a horse that has fallen in out.

With him leading, the speed indeed increased considerably.

But the swamp is truly vast.

After another two hours of walking, the sky began to darken, and ahead the swamp still stretched beyond sight.

"Prince, we need some torches; otherwise once it gets dark we won't see the road at all," Wang Baobao said.

Zhu Yong nodded, "Send the order: light the torches and keep moving."

The soldiers lit the torches they carried, and the column became a winding fire dragon, moving slowly through the swamp.

The firelight illuminated the surroundings, but it also attracted trouble.

"Sss..."

A strange sound came from the grass thicket.

"Watch out! There's a snake!" Wang Baobao shouted suddenly.

Before the words finished, a spotted snake as thick as an arm shot out from the reed thicket, lunging at the nearest soldier.

The soldier, frightened, stepped back, slipped, and fell into a mud pit.

The spotted snake missed, then turned and lunged at another man.

Zhu Yong's eyes were sharp and his hands quick; he grabbed a dead branch from the ground, flicked his wrist, and the branch shot out like an arrow.

With a "pop," the branch pierced the snake's head, pinning the snake to the ground.

The snake's body writhed violently a few times, then stopped moving.

"It's a venomous snake; this kind's poison is potent—one bite will kill within half an hour," Wang Baobao walked over, glanced at it, his face grim.

"Everyone be careful, watch your footing," Zhu Yong told the surrounding soldiers.

The column continued forward, but everyone was on high alert.

After about another hour of walking, at last the shadow of solid ground appeared ahead.

"We've arrived; ahead is the North Bank!" Wang Baobao exclaimed with delight.

The soldiers' spirits lifted, and they quickened their steps.

Finally, at the end of the hour of the Dog, the entire army emerged from the swamp.

Stepping onto firm ground, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Zhu Yong ordered the camp to be set up.

This time they chose a high ground, windward side, with an open view all around.

The campfire was lit, hot food cooked, and the camp gradually came alive.

Zhu Yong sat by the fire pit, watching the leaping flames.

Wang Baobao walked over, handed him a baked hot cake and said, "Prince, have something warm."

Zhu Yong took the cake, took a bite, and asked, "Elder Brother, can we reach Buyuerhai tomorrow?"

"If all goes well, we can get there in three days," Wang Baobao sat opposite him, "but tomorrow we must first find a place for the horses to rest; today's march has left the horses exhausted."

Zhu Yong nodded, saying nothing.

He looked toward the Northern Region, where Buyuerhai lies, and also the direction of Toghus Temur's Military Camp.

This battle must be fought well.

Not only must we win, but we must win gloriously.

We must make Northern Yuan know that Great Ming is not to be trifled with.

We must let father and elder brother know that he has not let them down.

The night grew deeper.

The camp gradually fell silent, only the crackling of the campfire and distant wolf howls could be heard.

Zhu Yong closed his eyes and began to regulate his breath.

Tomorrow, there is still a longer road ahead.

And over two hundred li north of them, at Bayannaoer Lakeside, within Toghus Temur's Military Camp, a dispute was underway.

"The supply convoy was robbed; it must have been Yesuder's doing! Who else could it be?!" a rough voice roared.

"Not necessarily; it could also be Ming forces—I heard there are signs of Ming activity to the south," another voice countered.

"Ming forces? They wouldn't dare go deep into Mobei; it's impossible!"

"How could it be impossible? Wang Baobao defected to the Ming; he's the most familiar with Mobei's terrain!"

"Enough!" a commanding voice rang out.

The tent fell silent at once.

Toghus Temur sat on the Main Seat, his face gloomy.

He was in his thirties, towering, with a slash scar on his face running from his Left Eyebrow to his right cheek, giving him a ferocious look.

"Regardless of who did it, we must investigate thoroughly; dispatch five hundred cavalry southward along the Kerulen River to patrol, and report any suspicious riders immediately," he said slowly.

"Yes!" the subordinates took the order and left.

Toghus Temur stood, stepped out of the tent, and gazed at the southern night sky.

He felt an ominous premonition in his heart.

It seemed something was silently advancing from the south.

The night was as black as ink.

The wind on the grassland grew colder.