Yongle Emperor's grandson: Zhu Yuanzhang with cheats, Zhu Di went crazy

Chapter 4: The Flying Red Flag

Lan Yu has been dead for so many years. Not to mention his human form, his flesh has all turned into dust. What's the point of saying anything more?

The situation was urgent, and Zhu could only urge Zhu Zhanjun to rush over as soon as possible to take over the main army.

Zhu Zhanjun's group consisted of more than a dozen people, so naturally they could not fit two scouts on their horses.

Zhu Zhanjun and Xiaohu rode together and said to the remaining guards who were carrying things on their backs, "Liangzi, take the remaining brothers and move closer to the main force. Be careful, the things you carry are the most important."

"Yes, Your Highness!"

A man who was missing an ear and whose face was covered with scars from frostbite bowed.

"By the way, give me the flag."

Zhu Zhanjun was just about to urge Xiaohu to set off, but then he remembered that he had forgotten to bring something and quickly said something.

Upon hearing this, Liangzi put down the package on his body and took out a very well-preserved flag from it.

Zhu Zhanjun took it and held it in his arms, then said to Xiaohu, "Let's go!"

Xiaohu gave a light shout, and the horse neighed, following the scout and running away on the thick grass.

Two war horses carried three people and rushed all the way along the Lushan River, also known as the Yinma River. They set out at noon and finally saw the main army camp around 3 p.m.

"thump!"

As the horse stopped, the warhorse that was carrying two people at such a fast speed finally couldn't bear it and fell to the ground.

"Be careful, Your Highness!"

Xiaohu at the back hugged Zhu Zhanjun, and the two rolled on the grass for a few times before they released the force.

Zhu Zhanjun got up from the ground, ignoring the pain from the friction on his face and the grass debris in his hair, he ran up a high hill in a few steps and looked at the camp in the distance.

Although there was still some distance away, Zhu Zhanjun could faintly hear the noise.

"Fortunately, I'm not late."

Zhu Zhanjun breathed a sigh of relief, ran to the fallen horse, picked up the lance hanging on the horse's body, untied the package that fell beside him, and took out a flag from it.

"Little Tiger!"

Zhu Zhanjun shouted, and Xiaohu and the scout next to him hurried over to help.

The three of them worked together to hold up the flag.

This is a fiery red flag with a brocade dragon pattern and a large red character embroidered in gold thread in the middle.

This big flag was specially made for Zhu Zhanjun by his grandfather when he was a child, saying that he wanted it to be the king's flag when he grew up.

The old man thought it looked good, so he had a few more made and gave them to the various princes as rewards to show the emperor's favor.

It was from that time that the royal family and nobles of the Ming Dynasty had their own flags that belonged to their status.

Standing under the fluttering flag, Zhu Zhanjun held the hilt of the sword at his waist, looked at the camp in the distance, and said, "Blow the horn."

After watching this scene in the space, Old Zhu nodded with satisfaction.

He also heard the noise in the camp. Based on his many years of military experience, he knew that the soldiers in the camp were already in chaos.

The 100,000 troops in the camp had become a group of headless flies. If they wanted to reunite, they needed a lion to step forward and lead them to continue to move forward.

Zhu Zhanjun took out the big flag to show his identity, and the sound of the horn was to inform everyone that your leader is here.

Just as Zhu Zhanjun and Old Zhu had imagined, the camp was in chaos.

In the morning, the escaping cavalry brought back a piece of news that instantly caused the camp to explode.

The general Qiu Fu was ambushed, and Marquis of Wucheng Wang Cong, Marquis of Tongan Huo Qin, Marquis of Jingan Wang Zhong, and Marquis of Anping Li Yuan were all killed in the battle.

Except for a few cavalrymen who escaped, all the others were killed.

As soon as this news came out, the entire camp exploded instantly.

The commander-in-chief died, and the generals in command were also killed in battle. The soldiers, having lost their backbone, instantly fell into panic.

The officers who stayed behind were also at a loss, not knowing what to do next.
"What should we do? Should we move forward or backward?"

"Why are you moving forward? Your coach is dead, and you are still moving forward. Do you know how to fight?"

"What can we do? Should we go back?" "We came here with His Majesty's expectations. If we go back like this, how can we face people in the future? Will His Majesty forgive us?"

"Then what do you say we should do..."

In the central tent, the officers were arguing with each other.

Some suggested retreating, some suggested holding on and waiting for help, and some even said crazily that they should take advantage of the enemy's victory and launch an attack.

It’s just that everyone’s level is about the same, no one can convince anyone else, no one can persuade anyone else.

"Has the battle report been sent to His Majesty?"

A captain asked quietly, and the officer in charge of delivering the message nodded, "It has been sent out. I hope the court can make a decision as soon as possible."

"Report..."

A message broke the noise in the tent.

The generals were startled and looked quickly towards the entrance of the tent.

A flustered messenger rushed in quickly, not caring who was the boss now, and knelt on one knee and shouted loudly: "We found Tatar cavalry thirty miles away, at least 5000 of them, and they are coming towards us at a very fast speed."

The big tent fell silent in an instant, and everyone looked at the people around them in panic.

They are not afraid of fighting or dying, but what they are afraid of now is how to fight and who will lead the battle.
But after looking around, no one stood up.

Let's not talk about the ability of the people present and whether they can convince others. Now that people are panicking, whether they will listen to your command is a question.

Without sufficient prestige and status, the army could not suppress a legion with unstable morale.

If anyone dared to rashly command the troops, it would be better if they won. If they lost, it would not only be a matter of losing their heads, but also the entire nine clans would be killed.

Who dares to take action?

Who else dares to step up and take over this mess?
"Woooooooo..."

Just as the main tent fell into deathly silence and everyone looked at each other, a loud military bugle sounded throughout the camp.

"Damn it, the Tatars are coming so fast."

Everyone in the tent was like a frightened bird. When they heard the horn, they subconsciously stood up and ran.

"Wait, wait, wait! This is our horn, this is the horn of the Ming Dynasty."

A relatively calm captain quickly stopped everyone and shouted loudly that this was the horn of their own people.

The people who were stopped listened carefully and breathed a sigh of relief.

It is indeed the clarion call of our own people.

"Damn it, which bastard blew the assembly horn? I'll chop him up."

Thinking of the panic just now, an officer's face turned red, and he was so angry that he wanted to chop the person who blew the horn.

The others were not much better. They all had grim expressions on their faces and followed the angry officer who had drawn his knife.

However, as soon as they left the tent, the officers saw a strange scene.

The legion soldiers, who were originally confused upon hearing the news of their commander's defeat, now stood there in a daze, looking towards the east of the camp.

Such a strange scene aroused the curiosity of the officers.

What on earth is this thing? It can actually temporarily stabilize the morale of the army.

You have to know that soldiers with chaotic morale are the most difficult to unify. Not to mention asking them to obey orders, they won't even pay attention to you when you call them.

The puzzled officers followed the gaze of the soldiers in the camp and were all shocked.

In the east where the setting sun shone, a Ming Dynasty cavalry scout puffed out his cheeks and blew the horn hard.

Next to the scout, a young man was sitting astride a horse, holding a large fiery red flag fluttering in the wind, looking at them from afar.

As the chess piece swung, many people with good eyesight at the scene could clearly see a large golden word on the flag.

"Zhu!"

(End of this chapter)