My father is Chongzhen? Then I have no choice but to rebel.

From this moment on, on the land of Liaodong, the two giants have resolutely put their last chips on the gambling table, and a thrilling gamble concerning life and death has begun.

On one side was the mighty Ming Empire, equipped with modern weaponry and determined to win.

On the other side were the Jurchens, a cornered beast fighting desperately, with the entire population mobilized for war, ready to fight to the death.

A decisive battle, destined to be a bloodbath and a battle that will determine the fate of East Asia, has slowly begun, its crimson curtain slowly rising.

January of the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, Beijing.

In the year of Jia Shen, this should have been a time of renewal and universal celebration.

At this time in the past, Beijing was decorated with lanterns and colorful streamers, and the sound of firecrackers filled the air, creating a joyful and peaceful atmosphere.

However, during the Spring Festival of that year, Beijing was shrouded in an unusual atmosphere, as if shrouded in an invisible haze, making it hard for people to breathe.

Although every household had pasted peach wood charms on their door lintels, their bright colors were somewhat dazzling under the winter sun, but they could not dispel the oppressive atmosphere that permeated the air.

Children were setting off firecrackers sporadically in the snow; the crisp sounds echoed in the silent air, yet seemed particularly lonely.

The air was filled with a faint smell of sulfur and the aroma of food unique to the New Year. The aroma should have made one's mouth water, but at this moment it carried a hint of bitterness.

Compared to the hustle and bustle of previous years, this year felt more subdued and solemn.

After all, everyone knew that once this year was over, the Ming Dynasty would have to fight a decisive battle with the Jurchens, and the people naturally felt this tense atmosphere.

A few days later, an imperial edict was issued from the palace, like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, stirring up huge waves.

His Majesty the Emperor, deeply grateful for the soldiers at the front who have braved wind and rain, remained vigilant and ready to fight, and tirelessly worked to protect the country, has decided to keep everything simple for this year's Emperor's Birthday celebrations.

All celebrations, banquets, and fireworks displays have been halted; those once bustling scenes have now vanished without a trace.

The million taels of silver saved from the imperial treasury were all allocated to military expenses in Liaodong to aid in the great cause of destroying the Jurchens.

This decree seemed to inject a new energy into the oppressive city of Beijing.

The news caused an uproar in the streets, teahouses, and taverns.

The people praised him unanimously, their accolades flowing like a tide, extolling the Holy Emperor for his "concern for the affairs of the state and his compassion for the soldiers." They discussed among themselves, saying, "With such a benevolent ruler, how can we not destroy the Jurchens?" Some wealthy gentry and merchants even spontaneously pooled their money and sent it to the Shuntian Prefecture government.

They said with sincere expressions:
"I am willing to follow in His Majesty's footsteps and work together to relieve the nation's crisis."

His words were filled with loyalty and responsibility to the country. Officials submitted memorials praising His Majesty for "practicing frugality and striving for good governance," comparing him to the virtuous rulers of ancient China, such as Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang.

Their words were earnest, as if they wanted to pour all their praise into this memorial.

At this moment, the hearts of the people are united like never before by an impending battle for the nation's destiny. That unity, like an invisible bond, tightly connects everyone, enabling them to fight together for the future of the country.

However, beneath the surface of praise, the heart of the empire was beating almost frantically.

For the central government of the Ming Dynasty, this Spring Festival was just another "working day" that required continuous operation.

From New Year's Eve to the Lantern Festival, the offices of the Ministry of Justice, the Ministry of War, the Ministry of Revenue, the Ministry of Works, and the Five Military Commissions were brightly lit all night long.

The bright lights, like stars in the night sky, illuminated the path for people to move forward. Urgent military reports, documents for the allocation of supplies, and ledgers for calculating rations and pay were passed between government offices like snowflakes. The hurried figures and rapid footsteps seemed like a tense symphony, the prelude to war.

On the official roads leading to Tongzhou Wharf and Zhangjiawan Canal Transportation Hub, long lines of mule and horse carts, laden with grain, weapons, clothing, and medicine, stretched as far as the eye could see.

The long, winding dragon resembled a giant python, slowly moving forward across the snow-covered land. The wheels crunched over the still-unmelted snow, making a sound like the drumbeats of war, urging people to travel day and night.

They moved north, and further north, merging into the massive vortex of war known as the "Liaodong Front."

The vortex, like a bottomless abyss, devoured all resources and manpower, making final preparations for the impending decisive battle.

Southern cargo ships and seagoing vessels braved the winter winds and waves, forging ahead with courage.

The surging waves, like ferocious beasts, tried to stop their advance, but could not shake their unwavering belief.

They continuously transported rice, salt, cloth, silk, and canned goods from Hubei, Hunan, and Jiangxi to Tianjin and Dengzhou-Laizhou. From there, the navy would transfer them to various ports in western Liaoning.

That bustling port was like a huge hub, bringing together supplies from the north and south and providing strong support for the war effort.

The Ministry of Works' Ordnance Bureau, Wanggong Factory, and dozens of large "royal workshops" scattered around the capital and at the foot of the Western Hills kept their furnaces burning all night.

The roaring furnace fire, like burning passion, illuminated the tired yet determined faces of the craftsmen.

The bellows whirred and the hammers clanged; the rhythmic sounds were like a stirring battle song, inspiring people to forge ahead.

The craftsmen worked in three shifts, and under the dual incentive of "doubled work and doubled pay," they forged pieces of refined steel into gun barrels.

New rifles, improved artillery, and massive quantities of standard ammunition flowed out of the production line like a river, were then tightly wrapped, loaded onto specially made shockproof wagons, transported to the Ministry of War's armory, and then distributed to the various new armies about to set off.

The neatly arranged weapons resembled a mighty steel army waiting to go into battle, exuding a chilling aura.

This is a high-stakes gamble that will exhaust the nation's resources. Every vein and muscle of the empire is channeling its last reserves of energy into this impending war of annihilation, aimed at completely reshaping the East Asian landscape.

Throughout the Spring Festival, Beijing resembled a massive, incessantly roaring arsenal and logistics base. The air was no longer filled with the peace and tranquility of the holiday, but rather with steel, gunpowder, sweat, and an almost frenzied, anxious atmosphere, like the calm before a storm.

The atmosphere was like the calm before a storm, making people feel oppressed and uneasy, yet also full of anticipation and hope.

At the same time, imperial edicts bearing the imperial seal of the Ming emperor and written in multiple languages, including Han, Mongolian, Tibetan, and Uyghur, had already been sent via the post roads of the Four Barbarian Tribes Pavilion to Joseon Korea, the Ryukyu Kingdom, Annam, Siam, and even the more distant Western Regions.

That post road, like an invisible bond, conveyed the majesty and determination of the Ming Dynasty to every corner of the world. In the edict, the Ming Dynasty, in the majestic tone of a celestial empire, enumerated the heinous crimes of the Jianzhou Jurchens: "usurping the title of emperor, breaking faith and treachery, poisoning the people, and coveting the Central Plains."

The charges, like heavy shackles, weighed down on the Jianzhou Jurchens, leaving them nowhere to hide. It was officially declared that the Emperor would personally lead the six armies to hunt down Liaodong, wipe out their strongholds, and restore order and peace to both the Chinese and the barbarians!
The announcement, like a thunderclap, resounded across the East Asian continent, shaking all vassal states and surrounding regimes.

All vassal states and neighboring regimes, regardless of their closeness or distance, turned their attention to that icy, snowy black land.

Everyone understood that a decisive land battle, the largest in scale in the 16th century and one that would determine the hegemon of East Asia for the next century, was about to begin.

The wheels of history were rolling toward the spring of the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign with unstoppable force.

Spring, which should be a vibrant and hopeful season, has become exceptionally heavy and tragic because of this war.

Time flies, winter goes and spring comes.

When the spring breeze of March finally dispelled the last trace of chill that shrouded the North China Plain, Beijing welcomed April of the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign amidst the lingering chill of early spring.

April is a time of renewal, with everything flourishing and birds singing – the perfect time for military operations.

After a whole winter of near-exhaustive resource gathering and troop mobilization, the Ming Dynasty's war machine finally completed its final "warm-up."

The tenth day of the fourth lunar month is an auspicious day, suitable for sacrifices, prayers, military expeditions, and conquests.

On this day, before dawn, the streets of Beijing were already deserted.

The city seemed to be awakened by an invisible force, and people came out of their homes and flocked to the streets.

From the Meridian Gate of the Forbidden City, through the Chengtian Gate and the Daming Gate, out of the Zhengyang Gate, all the way to the Temple of Heaven and the Temple of Agriculture, the road for dozens of miles had long been cleared by soldiers from the Five City Garrison and yamen runners from the Shuntian Prefecture, with yellow earth laid on the ground and water splashed on the streets.

The neat streets seemed like a stage meticulously prepared for this grand ceremony.

The streets were packed with people, a sea of ​​heads. Commoners, merchants, scholars from the capital, and even villagers from surrounding counties who had come upon hearing the news, young and old alike, jostled shoulder to shoulder, all eager to witness this once-in-a-century spectacle—the Emperor personally leading his army to annihilate the Jurchens!

The lively scene resembled a grand festival, with people's faces beaming with excitement and anticipation.

It is precisely the hour of Chen (7-9 AM), the auspicious time has arrived.

At the Meridian Gate of the Forbidden City, bells and drums resounded, their echoes reverberating throughout the nine cities. The majestic sound of the bells seemed to be the echo of history, recounting the glory and splendor of the Ming Dynasty; the stirring sound of the drums was like a battle horn, inspiring people to forge ahead bravely.

The heavy palace gates slowly opened, and the first thing that came into view was the imperial procession.

Dragon and phoenix banners fluttered gently in the breeze, like colorful clouds in the sky; golden maces and axes gleamed with a cold light, like the sharp blades of warriors; embroidered robes and phoenix-drawn carriages were exquisite and magnificent, like the chariots of fairies, graceful and ethereal. Stretching for miles, under the rising sun, they shone with countless golden rays and auspicious colors, dazzling the eyes.

The magnificent scene was like a fairyland on earth, captivating all who beheld it.

Following closely behind were a majestic Han general clad in golden armor, wielding a long halberd, and imperial guards, their helmets gleaming and armor gleaming, exuding a chilling and imposing aura.

They marched in unison, their eyes resolute, like a group of fearless warriors willing to sacrifice their lives for the honor and dignity of their country.

After the ceremonial procession, the main event of the day begins.

Emperor Chongzhen, Zhu Youjian, wore a twelve-tassel flat crown, a twelve-symbol dragon robe, and an imperial sword at his waist.

He sat regally in a magnificent jade carriage carried by thirty-six strongmen.

The jade carriage was like a moving palace, magnificent and solemn.

His face was calm, his gaze deep, looking into the distance through the swaying crown, his brows furrowed with an unprecedented solemnity and determination.

Behind him, Zhu Cilang, dressed in an apricot-yellow robe with four dragon motifs, rode a magnificent, pure white steed from the Western Regions, following closely behind the imperial carriage.

The young crown prince was tall and imposing, with sharp, eagle-like eyes and a calm demeanor that captivated everyone.

His demeanor suggested he was a born leader, destined to lead the nation to glory.

Behind the father and son were cabinet ministers, ministers of the six ministries and nine departments, and meritorious military officials, all dressed in court attire or military uniforms, walking in single file according to their rank.

Their expressions were serious, and their steps were orderly, like a disciplined army united and moving forward together for the benefit of the country.

This procession, representing the highest power and majesty of the Ming Empire, slowly advanced amidst the deafening cheers of "Long live the Emperor!" from tens of thousands of people in the capital. It first went to the Temple of Heaven, then to the Altar of Earth and Grain, and finally arrived at the Imperial Ancestral Temple located in the northeast corner of the Imperial City.

The cheers were like a surging tide, wave after wave, as if they were going to engulf the entire city of Beijing.

The Imperial Ancestral Temple, where the ancestral tablets of the Ming Dynasty's ancestors are enshrined, is solemn and majestic, with ancient cypress trees reaching for the sky.

At this time, an altar had been set up in the square in front of the temple, with sacrificial offerings arranged in an orderly manner, incense smoke swirling, and bells and chimes ringing in harmony.

Guided by the officials in charge of rites, Emperor Chongzhen slowly stepped down from the imperial carriage, straightened his clothes, and solemnly ascended the high altar step by step.

Zhu Cilang and his civil and military officials stood in two rows below the altar, holding their breath and remaining completely silent.

In the vast square, apart from the sounds of the wind and ceremonial music, there was only the emperor's clear yet sorrowful voice echoing between heaven and earth.

Emperor Chongzhen stood on the altar, facing north, and unfurled the sacrificial text he had prepared beforehand, written in gold ink on bright yellow silk with cloud patterns. He read it aloud, his voice echoing in the empty temple, carrying a tragic and resolute tone, as if he were offering solace to his ancestors and proclaiming his decree to heaven and earth.
"In the seventeenth year of Chongzhen's reign, the year of Jia-Shen, on the first day of the fourth month, Geng-Zi, and ten days later, Ji-You, the filial grandson of Emperor Youjian, respectfully offers sacrifices of jade and silk, and various other offerings, and dares to solemnly announce before the Supreme God of Heaven, the God of Earth, Emperor Taizu Gao, Emperor Chengzu Wen, and all the ancestral temples and altars of the gods of the land and grain:"

"I humbly submit that Heaven blesses both the Chinese and the barbarians, upholding the principles of the Spring and Autumn Annals; our ancestors established the legal system, laying the foundation for eternal order. I, in my humble capacity, have inherited this great undertaking, and have been diligent and cautious day and night for seventeen years. I only wish to receive the mandate of Heaven above and the entrustment of my ancestors below, hoping to achieve peace throughout the land and tranquility in the eight directions. However, the Jurchens are rebellious, their filth staining Liaodong; their chieftains are presumptuous, their wickedness eyeing the Central Plains. Since the rebellious chieftain Nurhaci instigated the uprising, they have wreaked havoc on our borders, slaughtering our people and ravaging our lands. Then came Huang Taiji, who falsely established his title, imitating the emperor's robes, outwardly appearing submissive but inwardly harboring the poison of annexation, repeatedly offending the imperial army and defying Heaven's will..."

The eulogy, thousands of words long, was filled with the blood of tears and the piercing pain of every sentence.

In a somber and impassioned tone, Emperor Chongzhen recounted the heinous crimes committed by the Jianzhou Jurchens since Nurhaci's uprising with "thirteen suits of armor" during the Wanli era: their "betrayal of favors, usurpation of authority, massacres of cities and civilians, sowing discord among vassal states, and resistance to imperial rule." (End of Chapter)