Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

"Your Majesty is wise and discerning!"

Upon hearing this, Wang Zhaolin stepped forward.

"The new emperor has personally led the expedition and recaptured Dezhou. He has also issued a policy to contain the enemy, cutting off their food supplies and severing their trade routes—such swift and decisive measures are not something a mere child could accomplish!"

His sharp gaze pierced Song An.

"In my humble opinion, every word this scoundrel utters is a lie!"

"In these chaotic times, it is better to kill a hundred innocent people than to let one spy go free."

The gold-inlaid knife that Zhang Xianzhong picked up suddenly hovered over the walnut shell.

Wang Zhaolin's black iron prayer beads suddenly got stuck between his fingers.

Song An looked at the sinister smile on that pale face and felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

Sparks flew from the charcoal fire in the bronze incense burner at the corner of the palace, illuminating two scarlet spots in Zhang Xianzhong's pupils.

"What Secretary Wang said makes sense."

Zhang Xianzhong glared at Song An, his voice booming like thunder.

"Men, drag this man out and behead him!"

Two fierce soldiers stepped forward in response, but Song An broke free with a knee crawl as soon as they touched his shoulder.

"Your Majesty!"

Song An's neck almost collided with the soldier's blade.

"It is precisely because we have cut off the enemy's supplies and trade routes that the corrupt officials in Nanjing are asking to borrow Your Majesty's knife. This thousand bushels of coarse rice is merely a pretext..."

"Drag him out! — Chop him up!"

Zhang Xianzhong ignored all explanations, roared, and slammed the gold-inlaid knife into the table with his other hand.

"Father, please reconsider!"

Suddenly, a clear shout came from below the hall, and Sun Kewang knelt on one knee.

"Chengdu Prefecture has a million mouths to feed, which is like a million hungry wolves that will devour their master."

He glared at Wang Zhaolin.

"The 130,000 brothers were so hungry they could barely hold their swords."

"This morning, a dou of rice in the West City rice shop was exchanged for three lives. At this moment, the wails of starving people outside the palace walls are more deafening than Li Zicheng's siege hammer."

He turned to Zhang Xianzhong, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"This thousand bushels of unpolished rice is a life-saving spark."

"If Father extinguishes it, what will burn in the streets of Chengdu tomorrow will be cannibalistic fire."

Zhang Xianzhong paused, his thick sideburns turning as his head moved, the crimson in his eyes fading slightly, revealing a hint of deliberation:

"A thousand bushels of unpolished rice? I'll take it!"

"That corrupt official in Nanjing wants to feed the mountain king with spoiled food? I'll flip his dinner table over."

Sun Kewang then clasped his hands in a fist and offered his advice:

"The intestines of 130,000 soldiers... could hold the hilt of a sword, but they couldn't hold back the million mouths outside Chengdu that wanted to devour people."

Zhang Xianzhong suddenly leaned forward, his body almost pressing against the table:

"A million mouths that want to eat people?"

"Then tell me, how do we break this deadlock?"

Sun Kewang lowered his head and remained silent for a moment:

"Please give your instructions, Father!"

Wang Zhaolin strode forward, a barely perceptible sneer playing on his lips, and whispered in Zhang Xianzhong's ear:

"Your Majesty, starving people are prone to rebellion, but wealthy households with granaries overflowing with grain surely harbor different intentions..."

The veins on Zhang Xianzhong's neck throbbed. After the whispered words were finished, he suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot:

"Heaven creates all things and gives them to man, yet man gives nothing to Heaven!"

He roared, as if seeking a divine justification for his next command.

The flames from the bronze incense burner at the corner of the hall suddenly shot up ten feet high, the blazing white flames casting flickering light on and off in the hall.

In the firelight, his fingers gripped the hilt of his knife tightly, and he abruptly turned to look at Sun Kewang:

"kill--"

"Who to kill?"

"You think you can just kill whoever you want?"

"How many should we kill?"

"You think you can kill as many as you want?"

"Your subject obeys!"

"Wait! Kill 100,000 first!"

Zhang Xianzhong grinned maliciously.

"Killing 100,000 people to save a million is a worthwhile trade-off."

Song An's eardrums rang, and his heart trembled violently. He looked at Zhang Xianzhong, and the words of the Emperor about "Zhang Xianzhong's massacre of Sichuan" suddenly echoed in his ears.

Those tragic scenes suddenly became clear before my eyes.

He lunged forward and roared:

"Your Majesty, please be wise! General Pingdong's words are filled with tears and blood."

"A thousand bushels of coarse rice is merely a stepping stone. As long as Your Majesty nods in agreement, the Minister of Rites of Nanjing will personally promise that 100,000 bushels of white rice will flow into the Qutang Gorge along the Yangtze River."

He kowtowed and pleaded:

"Your Majesty, please have mercy!"

"Let the ants of Sichuan crawl towards the Qinling Mountains and burrow into Yunnan and Guizhou. Whether they starve to death in the mountain streams or are fed to jackals and tigers depends entirely on whether God grants them a chance to live."

Zhang Xianzhong suddenly drew his sword, his eyes flashing with a fierce light, clearly calculating the pros and cons of this "deal":

"That son of a bitch Shi Kefa! He wants me to be his watchdog?"

The back of the knife struck Song An's shoulder blade heavily.

"Tell that pedantic minister to pile 500,000 shi of fine rice in front of the Imperial Palace. Not a single grain less—"

Suddenly, the blade was placed against Song An's throat.

"I'll skin you alive, Nanjing envoy, and use the resulting oil to burn as a sky lantern. Now, get the hell out of here."

"However! The people of Chengdu Prefecture!"

His sharp gaze pierced Sun Kewang.

"Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!"

The seven "kill" characters reverberated like a death knell throughout the palace.

Sun Kewang bowed and accepted the order, then quickly retreated towards the palace gate with his hand on his sword.

The next day at dawn.

Thirty-four "human skin sky lanterns" have been erected on the streets of Chengdu.

The head of Zhu Zhishu, the King of Shu, was hung high on the city gate, with burning oil cores embedded in his eye sockets, the flames flickering in the wind like ghostly eyes.

Song An was awakened by the sound of crows pecking at food.

He staggered as he opened the door, a stench of blood mixed with the smell of burning hit him, and the blood seeping from the cracks in the bluestone slabs made each step feel like stepping on rotten lotus roots.

The seventh body lay on the threshold of the pawnshop—it was the only son of Wang Jiye, a rice merchant in the west of the city.

The skin and flesh of the spine were peeled off completely, revealing the stark white bone fragments.

"I heard that last night, the well water of eighteen wealthy households on Xiyu Street turned red."

The limping old man squatted in front of the tea stall, poking at the charred tiles with fire tongs.

"General Sun's wolf soldiers specifically targeted those wearing silk. Manager Li of the silk shop was slicing into a bloody mess, his intestines hanging from the scale..."

Song An stumbled and kicked a strange object. This auspicious beast, which should have been squatting on the eaves of the money shop, was now submerged in dark red mud.

A person's shadow hangs upside down from the locust tree at the end of the alley.

The concubine of pawnshop owner Zhao was being skinned alive by a scarred soldier. The South China Sea pearl adorning her pale yellow undergarment rolled into a pool of blood.

The scarred soldier used the tip of his knife to pick up the pearl and grinned maliciously:

"The general said this is called 'opening a clam to retrieve a pearl'."

The old soldier guarding the storehouse grinned, revealing his yellow teeth, and kicked over the baskets.

"The general has ordered that if 100,000 taels of silver are not raised by Shenshi (3-5 PM) today, your brains will be used as lamps."

Song An was distraught and tripped in front of the screen wall of the Confucian Temple.

The clay statue of Confucius on the base has two dark stones stuffed into its eyes, making its face look like a hideous ghost.

The most horrifying thing was Manager Zhao's corpse!

The pawnshop owner, who was wearing an ivory thumb ring yesterday, was stripped naked and nailed to the plaque that read "Teacher of Ten Thousand Generations".

The woman's wailing in the distance suddenly rose in pitch, then abruptly stopped, leaving only extremely faint groans and sobs that seemed to come from the depths of the earth.

Song An felt a chill on the back of his neck.

This city of abundance, blessed for a thousand years by Li Bing's construction of the dam, is losing its former gentle appearance and being melted into an unfamiliar shape by the fires of the earth.

He gazed at the "Great Western" military flag fluttering on the city wall, feeling that the flag was so red it was blinding, as if it were soaked in blood.

In a daze, a group of wolf soldiers escorted another group of wailing people past, and the general with the sword dragged his sword as he walked, sparks flying from the blade as it scraped the ground.

As the blade was raised, a drop of blood slid across the edge—

On the gleaming blade, seven ferocious characters were boldly engraved:

"Kill all the injustices and peace will prevail!"