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

Emperor Chongzhen stood there for a long time, his deep gaze seemingly piercing through the barriers of time and space, seeing the snow-covered plains of Sarhu thirty years ago, littered with corpses; seeing the tragic scene twenty years ago, after the fall of Guangning, where countless Liaodong people, young and old, wept and wailed as they poured into Shanhaiguan; seeing the past ten years, Songjin, Dalinghe…

Defeat after defeat, the fall of city after city, and the blood of countless loyal and brave soldiers have stained this bitter and cold land red.

He slowly raised his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the cold window frame. His voice was low and deep, carrying a complex emotion that had been pent up for many years and was finally being released. It was as if he were talking to himself, or perhaps confiding in the ministers standing solemnly behind him:

"Thirty years... a full thirty years. Since the forty-sixth year of the Wanli reign, when Nurhaci declared his 'Seven Grievances' to Heaven and captured Fushun, this vast land of Liaodong has been ravaged by bloodshed. My grandfather, Emperor Shenzong, was unable to recover it; my elder brother, Emperor Xizong, was also unable to recover it. Although the late emperor had the will to turn the tide, ... Heaven did not grant him long life."

He whirled around, his previously pale and haggard face now flushed with an almost sickly redness, his eyes burning with a fierce flame—a flame of suppressed humiliation, resentment, and a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve.

"Today! I, Zhu Youjian, the Emperor of the Great Ming, stand here! Standing atop the city walls of Jinzhou! Looking upon my soldiers and my people! I want to tell you, and I want to tell our ancestors in the afterlife—this vast Liaodong, which the Jurchens have occupied for thirty years, I will personally take back! This is my Liaodong! It is the Liaodong of the Great Ming! It is the Liaodong of China!"

His voice was not loud, but every word carried immense weight, echoing in the hall with the majesty of an emperor and an unquestionable conviction.

The eunuchs and palace maids standing in the hall held their breath and dared not utter a sound.

Standing to the side, Zhu Cilang watched his father's rare, almost manic excitement and was filled with emotion.

He knew that the "Liao affairs" of the past thirty years had been like a boulder weighing on his father's heart, and now it was finally time to remove it.

That night, in the council hall of the imperial palace, a supreme military conference that would determine the fate of the Ming Dynasty and even the future of East Asia was quietly convened amidst the flickering candlelight.

Inside the hall, everyone was gathered.

Besides Emperor Chongzhen, who sat on the throne at the head of the table, and Crown Prince Zhu Cilang, who stood beside him, those lined up on both sides below were almost all the core generals and important officials of the Ming Empire who were skilled in battle and held high positions of power.

On the left, in the civil official row, stood several civil officials dressed in scarlet robes with crane-patterned embroidered garments, while on the right, in the military official row, stood a constellation of military generals.

Zu Dashou, dressed in a robe adorned with a qilin emblem, sat at the head of the table; he was the actual frontline commander of the "Pacifying Liaodong" army.

Next to him was Sun Chuanting, the Governor-General of the Three Border Regions of Shaanxi and Minister of War, who was also dressed in a python robe and jade belt and had a dignified and imposing demeanor.

Following them were Li Guozhen, the Governor-General of the Beijing Garrison and Earl of Xiangcheng, as well as a host of renowned and formidable generals such as Cao Wenzhao, Zhou Yuji, Huang Degong, and Ma Ke.

Even Li Dingguo, dressed in the leopard-patterned robes of a third-rank military officer, stood solemnly at the end of the line.

Wu Sangui, Zu Dabi, and other local generals from western Liaoning did not attend the meeting because they needed to command troops and deploy defenses in the field.

After everyone paid their respects according to etiquette and shouted "Long live the Emperor!", Emperor Chongzhen nodded slightly, signaling the start of the meeting.

Zu Dashou was the first to stand up and walk to the huge sandalwood table in the center of the main hall, which was covered with a detailed map of Liaodong.

He stretched out his calloused, knuckle-heavy hand, pointing to the Liaoxi Corridor on the map, which snaked like a giant dragon, and at its end, surrounded by the Hun River, Taizi River, and Liao River, a huge red dot marked "Shenyang." His voice was loud and clear, with a strong Liaodong accent:
"Your Majesty, Your Highness, Your Excellencies. This old minister has been ordered to oversee the military campaign against Liaodong. Now, our 450,000 elite imperial troops have assembled in western Liaodong. Our provisions and supplies are piled up like mountains; our weapons and gunpowder are sufficient for half a year's use. In Liaodong itself, there are hundreds of thousands of civilian laborers and auxiliary soldiers who can be mobilized. This is an unprecedented spectacle since the founding of our Great Ming Dynasty!"

He paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over everyone present, finally settling on the city of Shenyang on the map:

"Shenyang, the puppet capital of the Jurchens, is surrounded by water on three sides, with high walls and deep moats, making it a place that is easy to defend and difficult to attack. The puppet leader Dorgon has concentrated the main force of the Eight Banners, about 200,000 men, in Shenyang and its surrounding garrison cities, preparing for a decisive battle. If we follow the usual procedure, attacking the city would require several times the number of troops, take a long time, and result in huge casualties."

"Of course!"

Zu Dashou abruptly changed the subject, his voice rising sharply with an undeniable confidence.

"Times have changed! Our Great Ming Dynasty possesses the advantage of modern firearms and the full strength of the nation as its backing! This old minister and Commander-in-Chief Sun have discussed this matter, and we agree that this battle requires neither ingenious schemes nor outflanking maneuvers! Our army should rely on the Liaoxi Corridor, advancing in three columns from Jinzhou, Ningyuan, and Guangning, advancing steadily and surely, step by step. With the superior range of our modern rifles and the devastating power of our artillery, we will inflict heavy casualties on their forces in open battle, forcing them to leave the city for a decisive battle!"
If they cower and refuse to come out, then besiege the city, cut off their supply lines, bombard their walls with heavy artillery, and crush their gates with 'divine machines'! This is what is meant by 'building a strong fortress and fighting a protracted battle,' using a righteous army to exert overwhelming force!

Zu Dashou's strategic intentions were clear and coincidentally aligned with Zhu Cilang's plan:

Abandon all fancy tactics and rely on absolute superiority in manpower, firepower, and logistics to crush them head-on.

This was not because he was ignorant of military strategy; on the contrary, it was the safest, yet most deadly, tactic he could employ after deeply recognizing that the balance of power between the two sides had reversed.

Sun Chuanting then stood up and added, this scholar-general, known for his strict military discipline and skill in fighting tough battles, spoke calmly and clearly:

"What Commander Zu said is absolutely right. The Jurchens excel in cavalry archery and field battles, and are highly mobile and flexible. If our army divides its forces and advances rashly, it will be easy for them to take advantage of us. Therefore, I think that the three armies should advance no more than thirty li per day. When we arrive at a place, we should first dig deep trenches and build high walls, set up strong camps, erect barbed wire and chevaux-de-frise, and deploy firearms positions layer by layer."

Once the position is secured, advance in skirmish lines, utilizing the superior range of rifles to mop up their outer cavalry and reduce their operational space. When their main force is forced into a decisive battle, concentrate all artillery and rifles for a devastating attack. This battle is not about the gain or loss of a single city or territories, but about annihilating the entire Jurchen army of 200,000 elite soldiers beneath the walls of Shenyang!

The strategies of the two commanders were approved by the vast majority of the generals present.

Although fierce generals such as Cao Wenzhao and Zhou Yuji were known for their daring and aggressive nature, they were well aware that this battle was related to the fate of the nation and was not the time to act rashly. They all expressed their willingness to follow orders and act according to the plan.

Only the young Li Dingguo stood at the end of the line, his brows slightly furrowed, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

Zhu Cilang keenly noticed his expression and asked in a gentle voice:
"General Li, do you seem to have some doubts?"

Upon hearing this, Li Dingguo quickly stepped forward, clasped his hands in greeting, and said somewhat awkwardly:

"Your Highness, this humble general dares not. However... this humble general believes that Liaodong is a vast region. If the Jurchens see that the situation is not good, they may abandon the city and flee north, hiding in the Changbai Mountains or wandering on the grasslands, which may cause future trouble. Should we... send a cavalry force to bypass their flank and cut off their retreat?"

Upon hearing this, Zhu Cilang nodded approvingly, but did not answer directly. Instead, he looked at Zu Dashou and Sun Chuanting.

Zu Dashou stroked his beard and laughed:
"General Li's concerns are not without merit. However, our primary objective is to capture Shenyang, destroy its puppet regime, and cripple its war potential. As for the remaining enemy fleeing north... Liaodong is bitterly cold, vast and sparsely populated. If we lose Shenyang as our base, the remaining troops will be without food or pay. Even if they manage to survive, they will be unable to achieve anything significant."

Once our army has pacified Liaoshen, sending elite cavalry to wipe them out will be a piece of cake. For now, the priority should be a direct confrontation.”

Li Dingguo suddenly realized, and bowed, saying:
"This humble general understands, thank you for your guidance, Commander."

Seeing that there were no further objections, Zhu Cilang stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the generals in the hall, his voice clear and firm, delivering the final verdict:
"Generals, what Commander Zu and Commander Sun just said is the strategy for this battle. Let me explain further: this 'horizontal push' does not mean that you should line up hundreds of thousands of troops in a single line. How can you possibly spread them out over the thousands of miles of Liaodong? This 'horizontal push' means that we will use our glorious national strength and modern weaponry to form an indestructible 'fire wall' from west to east!"
Wherever this 'wall' passes, the cities, villages, and tribes of the Jurchens will be reduced to dust! No blind spots, no room for escape, a complete sweep, eradicating evil without exception!

He paused, his voice carrying an undeniable resolve and expectation:
"Tomorrow morning, the entire army will be reviewed, and the 'Divine Iron Fortress' will be revealed to the world! We must let all the soldiers and the Jurchens on the other side open their eyes wide and see clearly that before this steel torrent built by the Ming Dynasty with all its national strength, any resistance will be like a mantis trying to stop a chariot!" "Your humble servants will obey Your Highness's orders!"

The generals responded with a thunderous roar, their voices shaking the rooftops.

The meeting adjourned, and the generals filed out to return to their respective camps to prepare.

Later that evening, Zhu Cilang did not rest immediately. Instead, he strolled out of the palace and, accompanied by several personal guards, headed toward a relatively secluded camp not far away.

Inside the camp, Li Dingguo was facing a dim oil lamp, gnawing on a cold, hard steamed bun with pickled vegetables, his brow furrowed as if deep in thought.

Suddenly hearing footsteps and a guard's announcement outside the tent, he quickly rose, lifted the curtain to greet him, and was startled to see Zhu Cilang. He hurriedly bowed.

"This humble general greets Your Highness! What are your orders for arriving so late at night?"

Zhu Cilang waved his hand, signaling the guards to stay outside the tent, and then walked into the simple tent himself.

The tent was simply furnished, containing only a cot, a small table, and a wooden box for clothes; there was nothing else of value.

He looked at the half-eaten cold bun in Li Dingguo's hand, a pang of sadness rising in his heart, and said gently:
"No need for formalities. What's wrong? Are you still troubled by what happened in the meeting just now?"

Li Dingguo scratched his head somewhat embarrassedly and put the steamed bun down:

"This humble general dares not. It's just... this is the first time this humble general has encountered such a great battle, and I can't help but feel a little... uneasy."

Zhu Cilang sat down on a wooden stool, gestured for Li Dingguo to sit as well, and smiled:

"There's no need to be anxious. What you were worried about earlier, Commander Zu and Commander Sun have already planned for. In this battle, our army has a chance of winning more than 90%. Just follow orders and fight bravely against the enemy. After this battle is won, I will ask my father to recommend you for a general position."

Upon hearing this, Li Dingguo felt a surge of warmth in his heart.

He was originally a bandit. After being recruited by the imperial court, he repeatedly made military achievements, but deep down he always felt that he was a "surrendered general". Compared with those well-connected generals of the capital garrison and border troops, he always seemed to be separated by a layer.

Hearing the Crown Prince's heartfelt words of comfort and promise, the sense of alienation dissipated considerably.

He knelt on one knee, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and said:
"Your Highness, I am grateful for your kindness! I will do my utmost, even at the cost of my life!"

Zhu Cilang stood up, helped him up, and patted him on the shoulder:

"Get some rest. There's another good show to watch tomorrow."

Having said that, he turned and left.

Li Dingguo saw the Crown Prince off to the tent entrance, watching his figure disappear into the night, his heart filled with mixed emotions. This young heir was unlike any of the officials he had ever met before; he possessed no haughty arrogance, no insincere politeness, only a captivating sincerity and trustworthiness.

He clenched his fists and secretly vowed that he would fight well in this battle and never let down His Highness's kindness in recognizing his talent.

The next morning.

Outside Jinzhou City, on a specially cleared open field covering thousands of acres, the first rays of dawn broke through the biting cold wind.

However, this once empty place was now teeming with people. Tens of thousands of Ming soldiers, mainly composed of the new Beijing garrison, the Yongwei Battalion, and some elite troops from western Liaoning, stood solemnly in dozens of neat square formations, organized by their battalion affiliation.

Although it was still dark, countless torches illuminated the land as bright as day. An indescribable, restless atmosphere, a mixture of tension, excitement, and immense anticipation, filled the air.

At the very front of the formation, a huge object covered with a thick tarpaulin stood there like a small mountain, mysterious and silent.

All the soldiers' eyes were involuntarily drawn to that spot, and whispers surged through the ranks like a tide.

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

Three blasts of the horn echoed across the fields.

Emperor Chongzhen and Zhu Cilang, surrounded by a host of civil and military officials, nobles and generals, ascended the tall, temporarily erected reviewing stand.

Zhu Cilang stepped forward, said nothing, but nodded to the Vice Minister of Works and the Ambassador of the Ordnance Bureau who were standing below the stage.

The official understood, took a deep breath, turned around and faced the hundreds of engineers and craftsmen who had been waiting for a long time below the stage, and forcefully waved the red command flag in his hand!

"Unveiling—!"

At a command, hundreds of craftsmen shouted in unison and pulled hard on the ropes. The huge tarpaulin covering the "small hill" was slowly lifted and slid to the ground.

The next moment, the entire training ground fell into a deathly silence.

Immediately following was a huge wave of gasps for air!
Before the tens of thousands of soldiers appeared thirteen enormous figures!
They are over four zhang tall (about 12 meters) and about five zhang long (about 15 meters). They are made of thick, dark gray steel plates riveted together with rivets. They have sharp edges and rough lines, full of the brutal and powerful beauty of the industrial age.

Below were dozens of giant wooden wheels, each taller than a person and encased in heavy iron hoops.

The massive body has a sloping steel "cabin" at the front, covered with observation holes, and above it is a platform resembling a castle tower, with crenellations around the platform and dark cannon muzzles protruding from the firing ports.

At the very top, rows of thick iron chimneys, like the breathing organs of a sleeping giant, silently point to the sky.

This is the pinnacle of Ming Dynasty's industrial and military technology—the "Divine Iron Fortress"! (End of Chapter)