11: Chapter 11 Merit for Supporting the Emperor or Execution of Nine Clans?
The morning mist at the Xiaoling Mausoleum gradually dispersed, and General Feng Sheng, General Fu Youde, General Wang Bi, and a group of the Huaixi Nobility were brought before the mausoleum of Empress Ma.
Each of them still had dew on their clothes and un-wiped "tear stains" on their faces, their expressions filled with panic—where was there any trace of the prestige of dukes and marquises?
In front of the mausoleum, the old man dressed in plain blue casual attire stood with his back to them, his slightly hunched figure appearing somewhat desolate.
No one dared to make a sound, and they even deliberately slowed their breathing.
After a long while, Zhu Yuanzhang slowly turned around, his clouded old eyes sweeping over the crowd, his voice flat: "Cry. Why aren't you crying anymore?"
Seeing this, everyone was terrified; even a hotheaded brute like General Wang Bi turned deathly pale.
As the leader of the group, General Feng Sheng steeled himself and stepped out from the formation, falling to his knees with a thud, tears streaming down his aged face: "Your Majesty, we... we were thinking of Crown Prince Yiwen, and our grief overcame us. We have disturbed the peace of Your Majesty and Her Majesty; we deserve death!"
"That's right, Your Majesty. We all watched the Crown Prince grow up. The Crown Prince was benevolent and virtuous, and his kindness toward us was as heavy as a mountain. Now that he has passed away in his prime, we... our hearts are bitter!" General Fu Youde also knelt down, his words sounding quite sincere and heartfelt.
For a moment, the sound of suppressed sobbing rose again before the mausoleum.
Zhu Yuanzhang looked at this group of old brothers acting before him, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile that was hard to tell if it was mockery or sorrow.
"Heh." He let out a cold laugh, walking step by step to General Feng Sheng, looking down at this old comrade who had followed him for most of his life. "General Feng Sheng, I remember back when we fought Chen Youliang, you brat were shot into a hedgehog by stray arrows, lying in a pile of corpses without even a groan. How is it that now that you're older, these tears come so easily?"
General Feng Sheng trembled all over, prostrating himself on the ground and not daring to raise his head.
Zhu Yuanzhang paced over to General Fu Youde: "And you, General Fu Youde. When we conquered Yunnan, you led a few thousand men and managed to hold off the siege of a hundred-thousand-strong army, not closing your eyes for half a month, your eyes bloodshot from killing. How come I didn't know that you, an iron-willed man, had such a soft heart?"
He pointed them out one by one; with every word he spoke, the generals kneeling on the ground lowered their bodies a little more.
"Your hearts are bitter?" Zhu Yuanzhang's voice suddenly rose. "Your Crown Prince is dead; am I not bitter? Biao'er is my son! He is the treasure in my palm, the flesh of my heart! Does my heart not ache too!"
"You old things, running here to stage a funeral wail, who are you doing this for? Do you think I'm old and can no longer lift a blade, or do you think my brain, like yours, has been kicked by a donkey!"
"Cry?"
This last word, carrying the force of thunder, shook everyone to their very core.
No one dared to cry anymore, nor did anyone dare to act. Everyone lay on the ground, trembling like chaff.
Zhu Yuanzhang's chest heaved violently, and in those aged eyes, rage and murderous intent were intertwined.
But in the end, he suppressed that anger. Killing this group of people would be easy. But killing them just like that would be tantamount to admitting he had lost, admitting he had been driven to a dead end by that fifteen-year-old grandson.
How could I lose? How could I possibly lose?
"Get up, all of you." Zhu Yuanzhang's voice returned to calm, but the oppressive feeling of a storm about to break grew even heavier.
The crowd looked at each other, not daring to move.
"I told you to get up!"
Only then did everyone scramble up from the ground, trembling, standing with their hands hanging down, not even daring to breathe loudly.
"General Lan Yu didn't come; it must be my good grandson who wouldn't let him, right?" Zhu Yuanzhang asked abruptly.
General Feng Sheng and the others were shocked, but could only respond vaguely: "We... we do not know."
"You don't know?" Zhu Yuanzhang sneered. "A fine 'don't know.' You don't know, but I do."
He reached out and pointed in the direction of Nanjing City, his tone chilling.
"Your good Highness, my good grandson, is currently bringing that mad dog General Lan Yu to stir up trouble in the capital. He thinks that by sending you old bones here to me and holding me up, he can succeed."
"Naive."
Zhu Yuanzhang's gaze swept over their pale faces, as if looking at a group of dead men.
"Fine, I'm not going anywhere today. I'll stay right here, keeping my wife company, and wait right here..."
"I also want to see just how much capability this good grandson of mine really has..."
He paused, a cruel smile appearing on his face, "You all shouldn't leave either. Stay here with me, and watch carefully."
"Watch and see whether what you've wagered is a heaven-defying fortune, or the fate of having your nine clans exterminated!"
As soon as these words were spoken, General Feng Sheng, General Fu Youde, and the others felt the world go black before their eyes, nearly fainting on the spot.
At this moment, cold despair flooded everyone's heart like a tide. They seemed to have already seen their own endings, seen the miserable sight of their families being dragged to the execution grounds while wailing.
Their gazes involuntarily turned toward the direction of Nanjing City.
"Third Imperial Prince!"
"You must, you absolutely must win!"
...
At this time, the sky was already bright, and within the Imperial City, the sounds of fighting, shouting, and the clashing of metal completely tore apart the morning silence.
Crown Prince Zhu Yuntong, dressed in black armor and holding a long blade, walked at the very front of the formation. Behind him were General Lan Yu and six hundred black-clad death soldiers as fierce as wolves and tigers. They had just bloodied the Imperial Guards' Armory, everyone had changed into fine armor, and they held sharp weapons in their hands, their morale high.
From Xuanwu Gate to Fengtian Hall, the palace walls and halls along the way retreated rapidly. Along the way, Imperial Guards who heard the news kept trying to block them, but their scattered forces were vulnerable before this torrent of slaughter that had coalesced into one.
Crown Prince Zhu Yuntong was expressionless, not even having made a move himself.
"Your Highness, once we pass the Jinshui Bridge ahead, it will be the Fengtian Gate square!" General Lan Yu was covered in blood, his voice full of excitement.
Victory seemed within reach.
However, the moment they rushed past a palace wall and their field of vision suddenly opened up, everyone's footsteps came to a halt.
Ahead, on the Jinshui Bridge carved from white marble, the area was packed with people.
It was an army, about three thousand men, in a strict formation; shield-bearers in front, spearmen behind, and archers with bows drawn and arrows nocked, ready but not releasing. They wore bright armor and held swords made of hundred-refined steel; beneath their cold helmets were pairs of emotionless eyes.
This was completely different from the scattered patrol squads from before. This was the elite of the Imperial City's Imperial Guards, the last and most solid line of defense guarding the center.
At the very front of the military formation, a burly, cold-faced middle-aged general rode on a tall warhorse. He wore mountain-pattern armor, a precious sword hung at his waist, and he held a halberd in his hand, his gaze sharp.
The Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Guards, General Chen Heng. A ruthless character who had crawled out of a pile of corpses, and also one of the Imperial Guards generals most trusted by Zhu Yuanzhang.
Seeing this formation, General Lan Yu's pupils shrank sharply, and he lowered his voice, saying into Crown Prince Zhu Yuntong's ear, "Damn it, it's that bastard General Chen Heng! This guy is a tough nut to crack. Back then in the Northern Yuan, he was surrounded by several Tartars, his intestines even spilled out, and he still managed to kill three of them in return. The three thousand men under his command are the Imperial Guards, the best fighters among the Imperial Guards; they are not easy to deal with!"
Six hundred against three thousand.