Chapter 87: Returning Home

The Fishing Sea truly is beautiful...

The lake water is incredibly clear, and waterbirds soar.

The city on the east bank of the lake is somewhat damaged, but largely intact.

Wang Baobao walked over, his body splattered with blood, but with a buoyant expression he said, "Prince, this battle is a great victory! We annihilated over three thousand enemies, captured two thousand, the rest fled, and our casualties are under five hundred."

Lan Yu also arrived, grinning, "Prince, this fight was exhilarating! Yesuder, that old brat, could never have dreamed we would break out at this moment."

Zhu Yong nodded and said, "Enter the city."

The army marched into the Fishing Sea.

The scene inside the city is rather bleak. On the Street, scorch marks from fires are everywhere, and some houses are still smoking.

The common folk hide behind doors, peering anxiously through the cracks.

Ba Te Er came forward with a few elders, kneeling and saluting, "Prince! We are fortunate not to disgrace our duty!"

"Rise!" he said. "You did well; how is the situation inside the city?" Zhu Yong dismounted and helped them up.

"Prince, the defending force originally numbered four thousand; when Yesuder besieged the city, casualties were nearly half. Now about two thousand remain, and they have all laid down their weapons," Ba Te Er reported.

Just then, a group of Northern Yuan officials dressed in official attire walked from the government office direction, led by a white‑haired elder.

The elder stepped before Zhu Yong, bowed deeply and said, "I, the senior minister Boluo, salute Prince Wu of Great Ming."

"Who are you..." Zhu Yong asked.

I am a senior minister of the Northern Yuan Central Secretariat, appointed by Great Khan Toghus Temur to guard Wang Ting. The Great Khan has now passed, Wang Ting is besieged, and we are fortunate to be rescued by you, Prince.

The senior minister wishes to lead his men to surrender, asking only that the Prince treat the city's civilians kindly," Boluo said bitterly.

Zhu Yong looked at him, then at the frightened civilians around, and slowly nodded, "As long as you truly submit, Great Ming will not kill the surrendering nor loot the people."

Boluo exhaled a sigh of relief, bowed again, "Thank you for your mercy, Prince."

What follows are the tedious tasks of accepting surrender, inventorying, and pacifying the populace.

Zhu Yong assigned the concrete affairs to Wang Baobao and Lan Yu, and he himself led the Imperial Troops to patrol the entire city.

The Wang Ting of the Fishing Sea is larger than imagined, divided into an outer and an inner city.

The outer city is the civilian district, the inner city houses the palace and government offices.

Although the palace does not match the scale of the Imperial Palace of Yingtian, it is still quite grand, entirely of Han‑style architecture, evidently built during the height of the Yuan dynasty.

Zhu Yong entered the main hall; it was empty, and a layer of dust had settled on the dragon throne.

Since Great Khan Toghus Temur's death, no one has dared to sit here.

He walked around the hall and came to the study in the rear hall.

The study is spacious, but the books on the shelves are few, mostly military treatises and histories.

A map is spread on the table, a topographic chart of the various tribes on the Grassland.

Zhu Yong picked up the map and examined it; the annotations are very detailed, even showing the migration routes of some minor tribes.

"Prince." Wang Baobao's voice came from the doorway.

Zhu Yong turned back and said, "All done?"

"Almost. The prisoners are gathered at the camp outside the city, the weapons and horses have been inventoried, and the granaries have been sealed."

Wang Baobao walked in, saw the map on the table, and his eyes lit up, "This is a good find."

"Hmm, take it back for Father to see." Zhu Yong rolled up the map.

Wang Baobao hesitated a moment and said, "Prince, there's something…"

"Speak."

"Yesuder wishes to see you."

Zhu Yong raised an eyebrow, "What does he want to say?"

He said he knows the Northern Yuan's final hidden treasure location, and is willing to give it up in exchange for a way to live.

Zhu Yong smiled, "Bring him in."

Soon, Yesuder was escorted in.

His shoulder wound had already been bandaged, but his complexion remained pale.

"Speak, what hidden treasure?" Zhu Yong said lightly, seated in his chair.

Yesuder knelt on the ground, whispering, "Prince, although the Northern Yuan has fallen, a century's accumulation still leaves a great amount of wealth hidden in secret places.

The largest of these is deep within the Khentii Mountains, a restoration fund left by Great Khan Khubilai."

"How much?"

"One hundred thousand taels of gold, one million taels of silver, countless pieces of Jewelry and Jade; if you spare my life, I will personally guide the way," Yesuder said.

Zhu Yong stared at him for a while, then suddenly asked, "Did Great Khan Toghus Temur know of this treasure?"

"He knew, but he hadn't had time to retrieve it, and then…"

"He died," Zhu Yong continued.

Yesuder nodded.

"Then why didn't you go get it?" Zhu Yong asked again.

Yesuder gave a wry smile, "I originally intended to seize the Fishing Sea, consolidate the tribes, and then retrieve the treasure, but I didn't expect…"

"I didn't anticipate the mantis catching the cicada while the oriole waits behind; Yesuder, you are a clever man, yet your cleverness has become your undoing," Zhu Yong stood up and walked to his side, saying.

He paused briefly, "As for the treasure, I will send people to investigate; as for you…"

Yesuder looked up anxiously.

"Take him back to Yingtian and await the Imperial Father's decree," Zhu Yong waved his hand.

Yesuder exhaled, "As long as I don't die, there is hope."

After he was taken away, Wang Baobao frowned and said, "Prince, do you truly believe his words?"

"Believe it or not, you'll know once you investigate, but this matter isn't urgent; first handle the immediate issue," Zhu Yong said.

He walked to the window, looked at the city outside and said, "Elder Brother, what do you think should be done with Buyuerhai?"

Wang Baobao murmured, "The water and reeds here are abundant, the location is strategic; if we abandon it, other tribes may occupy it, causing new trouble."

"If we station troops, the distance is too great and supplies are hard to bring."

"So?"

"The best solution is to support a tribe friendly to Great Ming to graze here as a buffer; the court only needs to send a few officials to supervise and conduct periodic inspections."

Zhu Yong nodded and said, "It matches what I thought. What do you think of Ba Te Er?"

Wang Baobao's eyes lit up, "Ba Te Er is a local, familiar with the situation, and has earned merit this time; indeed a good choice."

"Then it's settled. Send the order: three days later the troops will depart, leave a thousand men to garrison temporarily, and wait for the court's officials to take over."

"Understood!"

Three days are enough to handle post‑war matters.

The bodies of the fallen soldiers are cremated, their ashes placed in urns, ready to be taken home.

Among the captives, the young and strong who wish to enlist are incorporated into the Great Ming army; those who refuse are given travel stipends and discharged.

The elderly, weak, women and children are temporarily settled by Ba Te Er, awaiting the court's policy.

During this time, Zhu Yong also found a large stone beside Buyuerhai and carved big characters on it: "Great Ming Land, Trespassers Die!"

He also erected a stone tablet nearby, inscribing the deeds of Prince Wu Zhu Yong's capture of Buyuerhai.

At the same time, he also sent Lan Yu with troops to retrieve that batch of treasure; although not as much as Yesuder claimed, it was still considerable.

With this treasure, shipbuilding can begin.

On the fourth morning, the army set out.

Zhu Yong, mounted on his horse, turned back to glance at Buyuerhai.

The lake under the rising sun is as beautiful as a painted scroll; this final Wang Ting of Northern Yuan now folds into Great Ming's territory.

"Let's go home," Zhu Yong whispered, though in truth his heart was burning with impatience, wishing he could grow wings and fly back to Yingtian.

The Wuzhui Horse broke into a stride, heading south toward home.

Behind him, a contingent of 4,500 men, bearing the glory of victory, set out on the road back to Yingtian.

The Grassland wind rattles the War Flags, making a rustling sound.

In the spring of Hongwu Year Four, Northern Yuan was utterly consigned to history.