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

At that time, we will see the attitude of the King of Joseon: if the King of Joseon is wise and willing to hand over the rule of Joseon, submit to the Ming Dynasty, and accept the Ming Dynasty's jurisdiction, then Zhu Cilang can naturally spare his life, let him die peacefully, and enjoy his old age.

However, if the King of Joseon is out of touch with reality, unwilling to submit to the Ming Dynasty, and wants to resist the Ming army in order to preserve his throne and Joseon's independence, then Zhu Cilang can use this as a pretext to eliminate him, plunging the entire Joseon Dynasty into chaos.

At that time, the Ming army, under the pretext of quelling the internal strife in Korea and pacifying the Korean people, will completely take over all affairs in Korea and incorporate Korea into the territory of the Ming Dynasty. All of this will then be a matter of course and be perfectly legitimate.

It must be said that although this method is somewhat insidious and opportunistic, it is indeed the best way at present. It does not require actively violating ancestral teachings or bearing the infamy of attacking vassal states, and it can also successfully take over Korea and completely wipe out the Jurchens. It is a win-win situation and can be described as a perfect strategy.

Zu Dashou and Sun Chuanting couldn't help but admire him secretly. No wonder Zhu Cilang hadn't taken action yet; it turned out he had already laid out such a grand plan. His foresight and strategic depth far exceeded their imagination.

But at that moment, Sun Chuanting suddenly thought of a crucial question. He frowned and asked again:
"May I ask Your Highness, is His Majesty aware of such a momentous matter? Does His Majesty approve of your plan? After all, this concerns the safety of the Ming Dynasty's territory and its relations with vassal states. Without His Majesty's consent, this matter must not be acted upon rashly."

Sun Chuanting's concerns were not unfounded. Although Zhu Cilang was the crown prince, held considerable military power, and controlled military affairs in Liaodong, such a major decision involved attacking vassal states and expanding territory. According to the rules of the Ming Dynasty, it required the consent of Emperor Chongzhen. Otherwise, it would be an overstepping of authority, which would not only draw criticism from court officials but could also trigger internal conflicts within the royal family.

Upon hearing this question, Zhu Cilang remained calm. He slowly nodded and said firmly:
"Of course I know. Such a momentous matter concerns the rise and fall of our Great Ming Dynasty. Without Father Emperor's consent, how could I dare to make a decision on my own and act rashly? I have already reported this matter to Father Emperor, and Father Emperor is aware of my entire plan."

Upon hearing this, Zu Dashou and Sun Chuanting secretly breathed a sigh of relief, and their expressions completely relaxed.

With Emperor Chongzhen's approval, the matter would be perfectly legitimate, and they wouldn't have to worry about overstepping their authority or facing criticism from court officials.

What they didn't notice was that when Zhu Cilang said this, his eyes flickered slightly, and a hint of guilt flashed across his face. But that guilt was fleeting, too quick to be detected.

However, don't misunderstand, Zhu Cilang's guilty conscience wasn't because Emperor Chongzhen didn't know about this matter. In fact, Emperor Chongzhen really did know about it, and Zhu Cilang had indeed reported his entire plan to Emperor Chongzhen long ago.

However, Emperor Chongzhen has been hesitant since learning about this matter and has not yet explicitly expressed his agreement.

In Emperor Chongzhen's view, Korea had always been a vassal state of the Ming Dynasty, and had always been respectful and submissive, never harboring any disloyalty. It was simply unreasonable to attack such a respectful vassal state, and it also violated the ancestral precepts set by Emperor Taizu.

No matter how well Zhu Cilang spoke, no matter how perfect the plan was, and no matter how beneficial it was to the Ming Dynasty, in Emperor Chongzhen's view, it was still somewhat inappropriate to take the initiative to scheme against a submissive vassal state, and he always felt a little guilty.

But he knew he couldn't make the decision, so he kept delaying, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Therefore, Zhu Cilang took the opportunity to tacitly acknowledge that Chongzhen had agreed to his plan, and began to secretly make all the necessary arrangements, waiting for the best opportunity.

Of course, Zhu Cilang did not tell Zu Dashou and Sun Chuanting about these things. He did not want the Chongzhen Emperor's indecisiveness to affect their confidence and the deployment and implementation of the entire plan.

Having learned the whole story, Zu Dashou and Sun Chuanting were no longer conflicted or hesitant.

They were well aware of Zhu Cilang's strategies and abilities, and believed that the plan would surely succeed and bring long-term benefits to the Ming Dynasty.

Therefore, the two immediately bowed to Zhu Cilang and said firmly:
"We understand! We are willing to obey Your Highness's orders and fully cooperate with Your Highness to accomplish this task, expand the territory of the Ming Dynasty, and annihilate the Jurchens!"

Seeing the resolute expressions on their faces, Zhu Cilang nodded in satisfaction and said gently:
"Good! With your assistance, I am even more confident. From now on, you two will continue to proceed according to the original plan, leading the army steadily and cautiously towards Shenyang. Do not rush forward, nor take the initiative to attack Shenyang. Just follow the Jurchens from a distance, monitoring their movements. Once they have completely withdrawn from Shenyang and entered Korean territory, we will then, according to the plan, lead our army into Korea to engage in a decisive battle with the Jurchens, take Korea in one fell swoop, and annihilate the Jurchens!"

"Your subject obeys!"

Zu Dashou and Sun Chuanting responded in unison, their voices firm and without the slightest hesitation.

Afterwards, the two men took their leave and returned to their military camp that night to plan subsequent military operations according to Zhu Cilang's instructions.

The night outside the military tent was still deep and the night wind was still biting, but Zu Dashou and Sun Chuanting were filled with confidence and fighting spirit. They knew that a decisive battle concerning the fate of the Ming Dynasty was about to begin in Korea, and they would make immortal contributions to the Ming Dynasty in this decisive battle.

Thus, under Zhu Cilang's covert planning and with the full cooperation of Zu Dashou and Sun Chuanting, the Ming army continued to advance steadily towards Shenyang City according to the original plan, without rushing to attack or pursue, but advancing calmly and unhurriedly.

This led to the scene we see today, with the Ming army besieging Shenyang.

It was noon, the autumn sun was high in the sky, and the bright sunlight generously shone on the earth, but it could not dispel the suffocating, almost tangible, desolate atmosphere that permeated the area outside Shenyang.

The sky was the unique, high, clear blue of the northern frontier, with a few wisps of thin white clouds torn away by the high-altitude wind, as if they too were intimidated by the massive, silent war machine on the ground and kept their distance.

With the moat as the boundary, the south bank is a completely different world.

The thirteen "Divine Machine Iron Fortresses," like thirteen ancient beasts emerging from mythology, spewing black smoke and steam, were arranged in a fan shape on an open ground about five hundred paces from the Shenyang city wall.

Their massive, riveted steel bodies reflect a cold, hard, dark gray luster in the sunlight, exuding a ruthless sense of power from the industrial age.

The massive chimney relentlessly spewed thick, billowing columns of black smoke into the sky, accompanied by a deep, resonant "Boom! Boom boom boom—!" sound from the reciprocating motion of the steam piston, and a sharp hissing sound of steam depressurization.

The sound and the sight converged into an invisible, terrifying pressure that seemed to crush the city walls, enveloping the hearts of every soldier guarding the walls of Shenyang, causing their hands, which held weapons, to tremble and become slippery involuntarily.

Behind and to both sides of the "Iron Fortress" stood a forest of Ming army formations stretching endlessly.

Armed with long, breech-loading rifles, they formed tight, three-man formations that stretched for miles, resembling a moving forest built of steel, flesh, and will.

Sunlight shone on the forest of bayonets, reflecting thousands upon thousands of cold, leaping points of light, converging into a sea of ​​death that was too much to bear looking at.

Between the formations, rows of field cannons, pulled by mules and horses, pointed menacingly at the city wall.

The entire Ming army line was solemn, orderly, and completely silent, save for the fluttering of flags in the wind and the incessant roar of the "Iron Fortress" in the distance, forming the most oppressive prelude to the great battle. In stark contrast to the disciplined, grim, and destructive military formations outside the city were the walls of Shenyang.

This city, which once symbolized the supreme glory of the Qing Dynasty and was entrusted with the great hope of "establishing its rule over the Central Plains", now resembles a giant beast with its teeth pulled out, claws stripped off, and on the verge of death, trembling in the autumn sun.

On the city wall, most of the brocade dragon banners and various general flags that were originally standing tall have been removed or are hanging down, making it look dilapidated and desolate.

The sparse garrison, mostly emaciated and numb, either leaned against the battlements panting or stared blankly at the overwhelming Ming army outside the city, their eyes filled with nothing but fear and a deathly despair.

Behind many of the battlements, there was no one.

In the air, besides the faint smell of lingering gunpowder smoke, there was also an indescribable sense of decay, from rotting food and piled-up garbage to... the approaching death.

On the rooftop platform, Prince Su, Hauge, stood alone, leaning against the railing.

He did not wear the dazzling silver armor that symbolized his princely status, but only a plain cloth armor, covered by a dark blue, equally worn battle robe.

The autumn wind blew through his slightly graying, unkempt hair, and also stirred the apricot-yellow silk ribbon of the imperial sword that had hung at his waist for many years and had accompanied him on his campaigns.

He looked down at the boundless, murderous Ming army formation outside the city, those thirteen fire-breathing, smoke-filled "steel behemoths" that moved like mountains, and a bitter, almost numb smile curled at the corner of his mouth. Once upon a time, he, Hauge, had commanded thousands of troops, galloping across the Liaodong plains, routing the Ming army.

Once upon a time, Shenyang was a city of unparalleled prosperity and glory, where the Manchu bannermen, full of vigor and ambition, aspired to conquer the world. But now…

His gaze slowly moved downwards, landing on the city.

What came into view was no longer the bustling, lively street of the past, but a shocking scene of desolation and death. On the wide street, most of the shop doors and windows were boarded up or smashed to pieces, garbage was everywhere, and sewage flowed freely.

Occasionally, a few emaciated, ragged figures, like ghosts, huddle in the shadows of the broken walls, or curl up in street corners, staring blankly at the sky, or hold equally emaciated children who are too weak to even cry.

Those were the elderly, women, and children left behind after Dorgon ruthlessly abandoned and plundered them. Among them were Manchus, Han Chinese, and Mongols; at this moment, faced with despair and hunger, there was no distinction between them.

A tremendous sense of desolation and powerlessness, like an icy tide, instantly overwhelmed Haug's heart, which had already been filled with despair and a death wish.

He gripped the cold railing tightly, remaining silent for a long time.

"I... originally intended to live and die with this Shenyang, with the Qing dynasty. I would take a few Ming dogs down with me, and die on the battlefield, so that I could be worthy of my ancestors and my father."

He muttered to himself, his voice hoarse, like sandpaper being rubbed.

"But... what about these people? These abandoned elderly, children, and patients who didn't even have the strength to run away... what did they do wrong?"

He recalled the Ming army's volley of gunfire on the banks of the Liao River, which felt like divine punishment, and the terrifying sound of the "Divine Machine Iron Fortress" cannons shaking the earth.

If I were to lead these few thousand remaining soldiers in a desperate struggle, how long could I hold out with these dilapidated city walls?

Once the city falls, how will the bloodthirsty Ming army treat these "remnants of the Jurchens"? The tragedy of massacring cities has been played out far too many times on the land of Liaodong.

Sarhu, Fushun, Liaoyang... Under the iron hooves of the Eight Banners, how could there not be blood and tears of the Han people?
No, we can't do that.

He turned around abruptly and strode downstairs.

Downstairs, hundreds of his loyal soldiers and former subordinates, who still followed him and were willing to live and die with him, stood silently in solemn silence.

Most of them were wounded and their armor was tattered, but in their eyes, a trace of their last bit of integrity and loyalty to their commander remained.

Seeing Hauge come down, everyone instinctively straightened their backs.

Hauge's gaze slowly swept over these familiar faces: there was Goshha, who had followed him for many years; there were bondservants who had served him since he became a Beile; and there were also bannermen who had chosen to follow him after the defeat at Liaohe.

His throat bobbed a few times, as if he had a thousand words to say, but didn't know where to begin.

In the end, he simply looked at them with his bloodshot yet unusually calm eyes, his voice hoarse but clearly reaching everyone's ears:

"Brothers... I am sorry."

He paused, took a deep breath, as if using all his strength:
"I originally intended to perish with this city of Shenyang, taking a few Ming dogs with me so that I wouldn't be lonely on my way to the underworld. But... just now, upstairs, I saw the people of the city. They... are all abandoned, the old are old, the young are young, and the sick are sick. If we fight to the death, and the Ming army breaks through the city, in their rage, they will surely take their anger out on them... and massacre the city to vent their anger."

What crime have these unarmed elderly, women, and children committed? Must they be sacrificed for our loyalty and righteousness?

The guards listened quietly, many with tears welling in their eyes, some biting their lips tightly.

"Never mind..."

Haug let out a long, weary sigh, a sigh filled with the helplessness and sorrow of a hero's end.

"This battle... is over. You all... may leave." (End of Chapter)