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

In warfare, provisions are paramount, but water is of utmost importance! With hundreds of thousands of troops and tens of thousands of mules and horses, the daily water consumption is astronomical! If the water supply is cut off or contaminated, the consequences would be unimaginable! At best, morale would waver; at worst, it could trigger a plague, causing the army to collapse without a fight! He never imagined that the Jurchens would resort to such a heinous and inhumane scheme!

"What are the specific details? Have any soldiers accidentally drunk it and been poisoned?"

Zhu Cilang suppressed his anger and asked in a stern voice.

"Your Highness, fortunately it was discovered in time, and no soldiers accidentally drank it. However..."

The scout looked troubled.

"However, this place is more than 20 miles away from the last confirmed clean water source, making water fetching extremely difficult. The army is facing a water shortage."

Upon hearing this, Zhu Cilang felt a splitting headache and couldn't help but raise his hand to rub his temples vigorously.

That's a really vicious move!

Knowing they were no match for the Ming army in open battle, the Jurchens resorted to such underhanded tactics in an attempt to wear them down! He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and said in a deep voice:
"Issue my order! From this moment forward, the vanguard camp and all surrounding camps are strictly prohibited from drinking or coming into contact with the water of the Toad River! Anyone who disobeys will be executed! Furthermore, I order Commander Zu to immediately organize manpower to transport water from the water source twenty miles behind the rear, day and night in shifts, to ensure the army's drinking water supply! The necessary vehicles and laborers shall be uniformly allocated by the central army camp, without fail!"

"Your subordinate obeys!"

The scout accepted the order and turned to leave.

"and many more!"

Zhu Cilang called him back and added.

"Issue another order to all battalions to strengthen their defenses and prevent the Jurchens from launching a surprise attack amidst the chaos! Especially around the water sources, assign double guards and patrol day and night!"

"Yes!"

The scouts hurried away, the heavy tent flaps fell, and silence returned to the tent, broken only by Zhu Cilang's heavy breathing and the occasional crackling of the burning candlelight.

He could no longer sleep and paced restlessly in the tent.

Outside, a bright moon hung high in the sky, its cool light filtering through the gaps in the curtains and casting a narrow strip of light on the ground.

The moonlight, as clear as water, should have been a beautiful scene, but in his eyes, it only felt cold, lonely, and even a little ironic.

"Ha... What a Dorgon! What a 'Qing Dynasty'!"

Zhu Cilang walked to the tent entrance, lifted the curtain, looked at the bright moon in the sky, and let out a cold laugh.

"When you can't win a direct confrontation, you resort to such despicable tactics! Throwing rotting corpses into the water... You've really lost all sense of shame! Is this what you call 'unparalleled archery on horseback' and 'warrior's glory'?"

He was burning with anger, yet he was helpless.

This is war. In the struggle for victory and survival, the most despicable aspects of human nature are often laid bare.

He originally thought that with military power beyond his time, he could end the war in a fair and square manner, and restore peace and order to Liaodong.

Unexpectedly, the enemy would resort to such a primitive and sordid method in their final, desperate struggle.

"One move off guard..."

He muttered to himself, his tone tinged with resentment and self-mockery.

"In the end... we underestimated the human heart in this desperate situation."

That night, Zhu Cilang barely slept a wink.

He stood outside the tent, letting the slightly cool night breeze caress his face, trying to dispel the restlessness and anxiety in his heart.

In the distance, the faint sounds of laborers carrying water through the night and the creaking of mule carts rolling over the road could be heard, sounding particularly clear and heavy in the quiet summer night.

The following day, the Ming army's marching speed was forced to slow down again.

To ensure drinking water safety, the army had to adopt a "leapfrog" approach to advance—the advance troops cleared a safe area and set up water supply points before the main force could continue its advance.

At the same time, Zu Dashou adopted Zhu Cilang's suggestion and dispatched a large number of elite scouts to scout in all directions, look for new, unpolluted water sources, and strengthen the protection of existing water sources.

Although the Jurchens' treacherous schemes caused the Ming army considerable trouble, they failed to shake its fundamental strength. Supported by a tight organization and massive logistical support, the water crisis was resolved methodically. The Ming army, like a sophisticated and resilient war machine, though its gears were sluggish and its operation slowed by sand, still steadily and relentlessly advanced towards its ultimate goal—Shenyang.

Time flies, and it's already August.

Summer in Liaodong is drawing to a close, and the air is less suffocatingly hot and more cool with the hint of early autumn.

After more than two months of arduous struggle against mud, mosquitoes, water shortages, and relentless harassment from the Jurchens, the massive Ming army finally advanced to within a hundred miles of Shenyang.

The closer they got to Shenyang, the more complex the terrain became, and the more rampant the Jurchen harassment became.

Small groups of cavalry, like a persistent thorn in the side, harassed the Ming army's flanks, rear guard, and supply lines day and night.

No longer content with simply destroying roads, they even began digging horse traps and setting up makeshift tripwires. Worse still, some used gunpowder to blast down the cliffs on either side of the narrow mountain path, completely blocking the passage with boulders and mud. Every step forward required immense effort from the Ming army's engineers to clear a barely passable road for the "Shenji Iron Fortress" and its supply wagons.

However, all this struggle did not bring fear to the Ming soldiers; instead, it further confirmed the weakness and dead end of the Jurchens.

"See that? That's all the Tartars are capable of! They don't dare to fight with real swords and spears, they just resort to underhanded tricks!"

A combat engineer, while directing his soldiers to clear away the boulders blocking the way with crowbars and ropes, wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled at his comrades beside him.

"Exactly! The more they cause trouble, the more it shows they're afraid! Afraid of our guns, afraid of our iron hoops!"

Another soldier chimed in, his tone full of disdain and confidence.

"Once we clear away all this junk and set up cannons under the walls of Shenyang, let's see how arrogant they can be then!"

"Hahaha! When the time comes, I'll definitely shoot that son of a bitch Dorgon dead!"

The soldiers' laughter echoed through the empty valley, carrying a sense of triumphant confidence and ease.

Despite the arduous road ahead and the appallingly slow march, the entire army, from commanders to soldiers, knew clearly that Shenyang was within reach. The end of the Jurchen dynasty was imminent. These futile obstacles were nothing more than the final, desperate convulsions before their demise.

Zhu Cilang stood on a newly cleared high ground, raised his telescope, and looked northeast.

At the edge of the horizon, the outline of a majestic city loomed faintly in the misty air of early autumn. That was Shenyang, the so-called "Shengjing" of the Jurchens, the lair painstakingly built by two powerful figures, Nurhaci and Huang Taiji, and the final destination of this war that threatened the entire nation.

"At most... ten more days."

He put down his telescope, muttered to himself, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable resolve. Sunlight shone on his young and resolute face, gilding it with a golden glow.

Late August, the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen reign (1644), at the Jinzhou Imperial Palace.

The night was deep, and the autumn wind from beyond the Great Wall carried a distinct chill, sweeping across the ancient cypress trees in the palace courtyard whose leaves were beginning to turn yellow, emitting a desolate, mournful sound.

Inside the palace, the flickering candlelight cast a long, thin shadow of Emperor Chongzhen as he bent over his desk reviewing memorials, projecting it onto the palace walls adorned with coiled dragons and auspicious clouds.

On the desk, there were piles of memorials, most of which were marked with words such as "good news", "recaptured" and "victorious" in red ink.

Since the swearing-in ceremony and departure for the expedition in May, such reports of victory have been pouring into the imperial palace like snowflakes. Fushun, Liaoyang, Tieling, Kaiyuan... one after another, the important towns of Liaodong were liberated, and the Jurchens' sphere of influence was compressed to only Shenyang and its surrounding small area.

The homeland of Liaodong seems to be within easy reach.

However, Emperor Chongzhen did not show much joy on his face.

He put down a military report in his hand that read, "The vanguard has reached a hundred miles outside Shenyang and will soon be at the city's gates." He rubbed his eyes, which were sore from reading for so long, his brow furrowed with a deep sense of gravity and exhaustion. He knew all too well that the closer they got to victory, the more cautious they had to be.

This unprecedented war to reclaim lost territory allowed no room for error.

"Ugh……"

A barely audible sigh echoed in the silent hall. Chongzhen rose, hands behind his back, and paced back and forth. The water clock on his desk dripped with a monotonous, perpetual "tick-tock," reminding him of the passage of time and intensifying his anxiety.

The palace door was gently pushed open, and an old eunuch with white hair and beard, dressed in a dark blue python robe and a gaunt face, walked in silently, carrying a black fox fur cloak.

He was Cao Xiu, a eunuch in the Directorate of Ceremonial, who was ordered to accompany the emperor on this occasion, replacing Wang Chengen, who was left to guard the capital, and to take care of the emperor's daily life.

Wang Chengen was left in Beijing to oversee the Directorate of Ceremonial, where he and the cabinet checked and balanced each other to prevent any changes in the central government during the emperor's personal campaigns.

"Your Majesty, it is late at night and the air is chilly. You must take good care of your health."

Cao Xiu spoke gently, with a hint of concern, as he draped the cloak lightly over Chongzhen's shoulders.

Emperor Chongzhen pulled his cloak tighter, feeling the warmth from the fur, and nodded slightly.

"I understand. I have something on my mind and can't sleep, so I came out for a walk. My companions don't need to come with me; I'll just get some fresh air in this courtyard."

Cao Xiu bowed and replied "Yes," but did not step back. He simply followed two steps behind.

The emperor and his minister walked out of the main hall one after the other and into the quiet courtyard. In Liaodong in August, the daytime might still have some lingering heat of the "autumn tiger," but by nightfall, the temperature had plummeted, and one could see white mist in their breath. A cold, waning moon hung high in the dark blue sky, casting a desolate glow that stretched the shadows of the palaces and pavilions long and thin.

The faint sound of watchtowers echoing from the distant military camp added to the desolate and grim atmosphere of the frontier.

Emperor Chongzhen stood with his hands behind his back in front of the white marble railing, looking up at the waning moon, remaining silent for a long time.

A cold wind swept by, ruffling a few stray strands of hair on his forehead, making his gaunt face and lonely expression even more striking.

"Companion".

Emperor Chongzhen suddenly spoke, his voice exceptionally clear in the silent night sky.

"Tell me... what is the Crown Prince doing at the front lines right now?"

Cao Xiu was slightly taken aback, then a respectful smile appeared on his face. He stepped forward and whispered:
"Your Majesty, I believe that His Highness the Crown Prince is currently in his military tent, discussing military matters with the generals and devising strategies for attacking the city and defeating the enemy. Or perhaps... he is also missing His Majesty and hoping for an early triumphant return to reunite with him."

Upon hearing this, Emperor Chongzhen gave a faint, self-deprecating, bitter smile.
"Reunion? I think he's mostly thinking about how to quickly wipe out the Jurchens. That kid... only has the affairs of the state and those hundreds of thousands of soldiers on his mind. How could he possibly think about his father?"

Cao Xiu quickly smiled and said:

"Your Majesty is too kind. His Highness the Crown Prince is known for his filial piety. No matter how busy he is with military affairs, he must still be thinking of Your Majesty. However, His Highness is currently burdened with the heavy responsibility of overseeing the country and is personally on the front lines. He must be... unable to be in two places at once."

Emperor Chongzhen waved his hand and said nothing more. He continued to gaze at the cold moon, his eyes deep, as if trying to pierce through the boundless night and see the city of Shenyang, besieged by the army and teetering on the brink of collapse, a hundred miles away, and the young figure, his blood relative, strategizing in the military tent.

He knew that his son had grown up, was becoming more capable, and was able to stand on his own.

This war was less a personal campaign led by him and more a stage he set up for his son, a stage that would ensure his place in history.

He was just a little... inexplicably disappointed. The heavy responsibility of this vast country would eventually be passed on to the next generation.

At the same time, in Shenyang city.

In stark contrast to the desolate silence of the Jinzhou Imperial Palace, Shenyang had now become a massive, chaotic, and hopeless prison.

Inside the city, the once bustling main streets such as "Siping Street" and "Zhonglou Street" are now in a state of disarray.

Nine out of ten shops were empty, with most doors and windows boarded up or smashed to pieces. The streets were littered with garbage, sewage flowed freely, and a foul stench permeated the air. Occasionally, emaciated, ragged people would hurry by like wandering ghosts, their faces filled with terror and despair.

The cries of children, the suppressed sobs of women, the painful groans of patients, and the rough shouts and smashing sounds of soldiers rose and fell, weaving together a tragic elegy of the end times.

Prices have already completely collapsed.

The price of a bushel of unpolished rice has been driven up to an astronomical level, requiring an equivalent weight of silver to exchange for it, and even then, it is priceless and unavailable.

The meager food supplies that ordinary people had left had already been ransacked by the Eight Banner soldiers under the pretext of "collecting military rations," who went from house to house, ransacking every chest and cabinet.

Any resistance was met with swords and knives, and blood splattered on the spot. The copper coins that were once in circulation had become scrap metal, and the silver had been almost completely looted. People's transactions had degenerated to a primitive state of barter.

A chicken can be exchanged for a bolt of cloth; a bag of salt can be exchanged for a human life.

The mastermind behind all of this was none other than Regent Dorgon, who sat enthroned in the Shenyang Imperial Palace.

With the Ming army at the gates of the city, less than a hundred miles from Shenyang, he completely tore off the last shred of pretense and no longer concealed his intention to abandon the city and flee.

Now, he has only one goal—to seize all the wealth, supplies, people, and especially the artisans that can be taken from Shenyang before the Ming army can encircle the city! (End of Chapter)