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

Xue Guo nodded, said no more, turned around, and walked out of the palace with steady and firm steps.

The sunlight cast a long shadow of him, making him appear not just as an aging prime minister, but as one of the writers about to add the newest and most glorious stroke to the canvas of history.

His steps seemed to be on the solid drumbeats of the Ming Empire's resurgence and its march towards a wider world.

Behind him, the vast Forbidden City, after a brief period of jubilation brought by the good news, returned to its usual solemnity and busyness.

But the air was different; it was a restless energy brimming with boundless vitality and burgeoning hope, like subterranean fire running beneath ice, like spring thunder gathering in the clouds, foreshadowing that this ancient empire was about to usher in an unprecedented new era, a time of great prosperity and flourishing prosperity.

Early July.

Seoul, on the banks of the Han River.

Despite it being the height of summer, the weather was surprisingly not as unbearably hot as expected. Perhaps it was because of the recent rains; the air was filled with the damp scent of earth and vegetation, and the river breeze, blowing across the ruins still bearing the smell of war and the streets being cleared, brought a rare touch of coolness.

However, even "hotter" than the weather was the tension and anticipation throughout the city, and even the entire northern part of the Korean Peninsula, like a raging fire about to erupt.

Seoul, outside Gwanghwamun Gate.

The city gate tower, which was originally ravaged and dilapidated by war, has been urgently repaired and is now neat and solemn, though it is no longer as magnificent as it once was.

Inside and outside the city gate, the wide official road was thoroughly swept and covered with clean, fine sand transported from the nearby riverbank.

On both sides of the road, every ten steps, stood a Ming soldier, fully armored, holding a long spear or a new flintlock pistol, with a stern expression and motionless posture.

Behind them stretched a vast, dark mass of Korean civilians, repeatedly "advised" not to cross the line, from the city gate to the far horizon. The crowd was barely separated by ropes and wooden fences used by Ming soldiers maintaining order and hastily organized Korean "volunteers," yet it remained a tight, impassable mass of people.

In the air, besides the smell of the river breeze, there was also a mixture of sweat, cheap cosmetics, and an indescribable restlessness brought about by collective excitement.

Countless gazes, some filled with awe, some with curiosity, some with anticipation, and some with bewilderment, were fixed on the southern end of the official road, where the smoke and dust were faintly rising. Whispers hummed incessantly, like the simultaneous fluttering of a thousand bees.

"Is it really coming? The Emperor of the Great Ming Dynasty..."

"His Highness the Crown Prince has distributed a lot of grain in the past two months and said that he will be exempt from taxes for five years. Is that true?"

"I wonder what the emperor looks like, and whether he is truly a dragon descended to earth, as described in plays..."

"Alas, I heard that our King has also returned, this..."

That last whisper, like an ice cube thrown into boiling water, instantly silenced a small area, followed by even more suppressed and complex murmurs.

At the very front of the crowd, a line of people stood solemnly silent.

The leader, a man around twenty years old, stood tall and straight like a pine tree. He was not wearing heavy armor, but only a simple apricot-yellow robe with dragon patterns and arrow sleeves, a jade belt around his waist, and a scarlet cloak over it.

He had a handsome face, and his eyes and brows showed a composure and sharpness far beyond his years. He was none other than Zhu Cilang, the Crown Prince of the Ming Dynasty.

He stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze calmly fixed on the south, as if he could see through the hazy dust and the approaching imperial carriage.

Beside him, on his left were military generals such as Cao Wenzhao, Zu Dashou, and Abu Nai, all clad in full armor and exuding a fierce aura, while on his right were civil officials such as Sun Chuanting and Hong Chengchou, their expressions solemn as they wore the official robes of the Ming Dynasty.

However, unlike previous gatherings of high-ranking Ming military officials, another small group of people stood solemnly at the end of the ranks of civil and military officials to the side and behind Zhu Cilang.

Most of them wore modified robes, a style somewhere between Korean official robes and Ming Dynasty everyday clothes, with gauze crowns or turbans on their heads. Their expressions varied, some were excited, some were apprehensive, some pretended to be calm, and some could not hide their humility and ingratiation.

They were representatives of the Korean "yangban" aristocratic families and former civil and military officials who had been successfully won over or at least outwardly submitted to Zhu Cilang through various means over the past two months.

The very fact that they can stand on this high platform to welcome the emperor is a declaration of their identity and stance.

For more than two months, Zhu Cilang has been busy every single day.

Militarily, the task is to eliminate the remaining enemy forces and reorganize defenses.

Politically, his actions were even more significant. Taking advantage of the Ming army's overwhelming military superiority and control over food supplies, he dispatched his capable subordinates to penetrate deep into the provinces and prefectures of Joseon, employing both soft and hard tactics.

Families who actively sought to curry favor with the government and enjoyed local prestige were offered official positions, land, and trade privileges, and were included in the candidate pool for the soon-to-be-established "Korean Provincial Administration Office."

For those who are ambiguous or wavering, pressure is applied, or they are reprimanded under the guise of investigating "traitors".

Those die-hard loyalists of the former dynasty or ambitious individuals who intended to take advantage of the chaos to establish their own rule were swiftly eliminated with ruthless measures, their property confiscated, as a warning to others.

Under the carrot-and-stick approach, North Korea's previously deeply entrenched old forces were rapidly divided, disintegrated, and reorganized.

Most "smart people" quickly realized the situation—the Ming Dynasty's annexation of Korea was a foregone conclusion. The methods, strength, and determination displayed by Crown Prince Zhu Cilang far surpassed those of the Jurchen invaders of yesteryear, and were even more terrifying than those of the Joseon Dynasty at its peak.

Rebellion? It's pointless except for the destruction of the family.

Obeying? Perhaps it could offer the family a glimmer of hope, or even new opportunities, under the new order.

As a result, petitions of submission poured into Seoul, and petitions from all over the country voluntarily requested to "become part of the Han court" and "have officials appointed in their place of origin."

When Zhu Cilang presented the petitions, each one signed and stamped with a bloody handprint, to the few die-hards who still harbored illusions, the last resistance crumbled.

Today, the people standing behind him are the "achievements" and "exemplary figures" of this silent "persuasion to surrender" and "choosing sides" movement.

By being present, they silently declared to the approaching Chongzhen Emperor and to the countless Korean people below the stage that the ruling class of Korea had accepted the reality of the changing times and was ready to embrace their new masters.

"They're here! They're here! Look! Banners! It's a dragon banner!"

Someone let out a startled cry, and instantly, as if cold water had been poured into boiling oil, the entire crowd erupted into a frenzy! Countless heads stretched forward desperately, and countless eyes focused on the end of the official road.

As dust rose, tall, apricot-yellow dragon flags appeared on the horizon, fluttering in the hot summer wind.

Following that came more banners, pennants, canopies, umbrellas, fans, and other symbols of the emperor's majesty... a dazzling array of colors that shimmered in the sunlight, like a moving, majestic forest.

Next came the burly generals of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, their armor gleaming, wielding ceremonial weapons such as golden maces, axes, and stirrups. They marched forward solemnly with uniform, heavy, and powerful steps.

Then came a large orchestra, with bells, drums, chimes, flutes, and pipes resounding in unison, playing solemn and magnificent imperial music. Amidst the music, the core of the emperor's entourage slowly appeared—a huge and ornate jade carriage carried by sixty-four robust eunuchs in specially made uniforms, with bright yellow curtains hanging low, concealing what lay within.

The imperial carriage was surrounded by even more fully armed and vigilant imperial guards and elite soldiers of the Brave Guard Battalion.

The emperor's entourage, magnificent and imposing, exuding a suffocating aura of supreme imperial authority, slowly and irresistibly rolled towards Hanyang.

Wherever he passed, the previously noisy crowd quickly quieted down, replaced by an emotion that mixed with awe, shock, and even fear. Many people even involuntarily held their breath.

"kneel--!!"

On the high platform, a master of ceremonies issued a command in a sharp and drawn-out voice.

"Whoosh—!"

Like wheat fields blown down by a strong wind, the dark mass of people on both sides of the official road, starting from the high platform, all shrunk down.

The Ming soldiers knelt on one knee, bowed their heads, and clasped their hands in a fist salute. The Korean officials, gentry, and commoners, following the etiquette they had been temporarily taught, all prostrated themselves on the ground, their foreheads touching the earth.

"Greetings to His Majesty the Emperor of the Great Ming Dynasty! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor—!!"

The pre-arranged, powerful shouts of encouragement rang out at several key points, followed by a thunderous roar of "Long live the Emperor!" from thousands of throats. At first, it was somewhat chaotic, but it quickly merged into a tremendous, earth-shattering wave of sound that echoed along both banks of the Han River, making people's eardrums buzz and the earth seem to tremble slightly.

Many Koreans genuinely cried out in gratitude for the "royal army" driving away the Jurchens and bringing food and order; some followed the crowd, overwhelmed by the majestic scene; others had complex tears in their eyes, tears for whom they shed, perhaps even they themselves could not say.

Amidst the deafening roar of "Long live the Emperor!", the Emperor's entourage finally arrived at the high platform and came to a slow, steady stop.

The music has stopped.

All eyes were focused on the stationary jade carriage, a symbol of supreme power. The curtains were respectfully lifted by two eunuchs.

Emperor Chongzhen, dressed in a bright yellow twelve-symbol imperial robe and wearing a winged crown, appeared before the crowd. His face was thinner than when he left the capital, but he looked even more majestic and radiant with the air of someone who had just been relieved.

Supported by two eunuchs, he slowly descended the steps of the jade carriage and stood on the red carpet. His gaze swept over the thousands of kneeling subjects before him, and over the crown prince and civil and military officials standing solemnly on the high platform. A faint smile, barely perceptible and a mixture of weariness from the long journey and self-satisfaction, appeared on his face.

However, just as Chongzhen's figure was fully revealed, many sharp-eyed people also spotted another carriage following closely behind the imperial chariot, which was slightly smaller and more simply decorated.

The curtain of the carriage was lifted, and a figure dressed in the royal robes of the Joseon king, but appearing unusually uneasy and pale, staggered down, "accompanied" by two Ming military officers.

It is Li Zong.

Former King of Korea.

In an instant, like a cold tide, the excited and grateful expressions on the faces of many North Koreans who had been enthusiastically shouting "Long live the King" quickly faded, replaced by astonishment, disgust, and even anger.

Although no one dared to openly make a sound, the gazes directed at Li Zong were like cold needles, filled with undisguised contempt, disgust, and even hatred. The whispers in the crowd buzzed again, more subdued yet sharper than before:
"How dare he come back?!"

"Bah! A king who abandoned his country! How dare he wear these clothes!"

"Could the Emperor of the Ming Dynasty really... be planning to send him back?"

"I wouldn't dare! His Highness the Crown Prince said he would exempt us from taxes. If he returns, will that agreement still stand?"

"No! Absolutely not! We have to let the Emperor know that we don't want him!"

"Keep your voice down! Are you out of your mind?!"

……

Li Zong lowered his head, pursed his lips tightly, and trembled slightly under the torture of those gazes.

He could clearly feel the overwhelming, undisguised malice and coldness emanating from him. A year ago, he was still the nominal master of this land, and the people, even if they didn't truly love him, had to treat him with utmost respect. Now, however, he had become a stain and disgrace that everyone despised and wished would disappear immediately.

This enormous disparity felt even colder and more despairing to him than the swords of the Jurchens. He could only lower his head further, following closely behind Chongzhen, pretending to be blind and deaf to everything around him, his heart filled with only a numb sorrow.

"Your subject Zhu Cilang, leading the civil and military officials stationed here, and the people of Korea, respectfully welcomes Your Majesty! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor!"

Zhu Cilang's clear and steady voice drowned out the subtle noises in the room.

He was the first to lift his robe and perform the three kneelings and nine kowtows ceremony before Emperor Chongzhen.

Behind him, Ming officials such as Zu Dashou and Sun Chuanting, as well as those Korean officials who had surrendered, also hurriedly followed suit and paid their respects.

"Your Majesty, we respectfully welcome your presence! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor!"

The sound shook the surrounding area.

As Chongzhen looked at his son kneeling at the front, travel-worn but with bright eyes, an indescribable surge of emotion welled up in his chest.

It was this son who, for him and for the Ming Dynasty, conquered this new territory!

He suppressed his excitement, took two steps forward, and personally helped Zhu Cilang up. His gaze lingered on Zhu's face for a moment, then he patted his shoulder forcefully, his voice loud and clear, filled with undisguised praise and pride:

"Rise! My esteemed subjects, rise!"

"Thank you, Your Majesty!"

Everyone thanked them and stood up.

Chongzhen's gaze swept over the familiar and unfamiliar faces behind Zhu Cilang, pausing briefly on the surrendered Korean officials. He nodded slightly, then spoke loudly:
"You have endured hardship on your expedition, and have rendered unparalleled service to me and to the Ming Dynasty! You have driven out the Jurchens, pacified Korea, relieved the people from their suffering, and expanded our territory! I am deeply gratified! The spirits of our ancestors in heaven will surely be pleased as well! This is a blessing for our nation and a boon for all people!"

He specifically looked at Zhu Cilang, his voice softening slightly, yet carrying an undeniable praise:
"The Crown Prince was appointed to command the three armies in a time of crisis, strategizing and winning battles from afar. He also pacified the local areas and won over the hearts of the people, making great contributions to the country! I highly commend him!"

Zhu Cilang immediately bowed, his tone humble:
"Your Majesty flatters me. This battle was entirely due to Your Majesty's strategic planning from afar, the soldiers' valiant efforts on the battlefield, and the assistance of the loyal and righteous people of Korea. Your son has merely performed his duties diligently and contributed his meager share; he dares not claim credit. All achievements stem from Your Majesty's majestic virtue and boundless divine might."

These words flattered Emperor Chongzhen, and also praised the soldiers and "the people of Korea," covering all aspects of the issue. (End of Chapter)