Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

Upon receiving the order, the constables sprang into action. Four burly men swiftly pounced forward, with two on each side firmly gripping Zhu and Song's shoulder blades.

Song An's face was ashen, and he struggled so hard that the rope rubbed against his wrists, drawing blood.

"Your Excellency, please investigate! I have been wronged!"

They were about to drag the person out of the courtroom and straight to the screen wall in front of the hall—

So you're talking about hierarchy, right?

Zhu Cilang suddenly spun around and exerted his strength, actually breaking free from the restraints of the yamen runners, and shouted sharply:

"Your Excellency, please wait!"

The yamen runners came to an abrupt halt.

The iron horses outside the eaves still swayed, only making the hall seem deathly silent.

"My esteemed teacher, General Huang, is now in charge of the military command in Luzhou, with an imperial golden command arrow hanging at his waist."

He stood tall against the draft and walked step by step toward Zhang Bingchang.

"If this beating is done today, what will happen when the military asks about the student's injuries..."

"Wait a moment!"

Before Zhu Cilang could finish speaking, Zhang Bingchang suddenly stood up, his folding fan snapping to a halt in mid-air.

His gaze was piercing, scrutinizing Zhu Cilang inch by inch from head to toe.

"What is your connection with the Earl of Jingnan?"

As the suspended fan swayed gently, cold sweat seeped through the front of his blue robe.

This strategy proved effective.

Who is Huang Degong?

That was the title of Earl of Jingnan bestowed by the imperial court.

With a large army at his disposal, he is the true ruler of Luzhou Prefecture, and his every move shakes the Jianghuai region.

Not to mention a minor prefect, even the governor of Fengyang would show him deference.

Zhu Cilang remained calm and composed:

"I am grateful to the Earl of Jingnan for accepting me as his disciple. I hope that Your Excellency will consider the kindness of your teacher and show some leniency."

Before he could finish speaking, Zhang Yuan suddenly stepped forward:

"Your Excellency, this fellow is spouting nonsense. He's clearly trying to curry favor with the powerful and escape punishment. We must not fall for his tricks!"

"Young Master Zhang is right."

Zhang Bingchang tapped his folding fan against his palm, seemingly snapping out of his reverie.

"The Earl of Jingnan is of such high rank; how dare you, a mere commoner, presume to claim such a high position and call yourself his disciple?"

"If I were to believe you today, it would only bring shame upon you, Lord Marquis, and make you a laughingstock in the officialdom of Luzhou!"

His voice suddenly turned stern.

"Guards! Ignore their nonsense and continue the torture!"

The constables were about to step forward again—

"Wait!"

Zhu Cilang's voice shook the roof tiles.

"Last year, when the proposal to change the grain transport route in Chaohu was put forward, I happened to be attending the lectures at the Imperial Academy."

"I once heard His Majesty personally praise Lord Xu, saying, 'Although he is rough and bold, he is meticulous and a pillar of the state.'"

"If Your Excellency insists on using torture today, it may damage the dignity of the court and betray His Majesty's wisdom in recognizing talent."

Upon hearing this, the clerk's expression changed drastically, and he hurriedly stepped forward and whispered in the ear:

"Your Excellency, the Emperor's private praise is something only his close advisors could know; this young man's words are likely not unfounded..."

Zhang Bingchang slammed his folding fan shut, his expression shifting between anger and uncertainty.

"In that case, it is quite a coincidence."

"The Earl of Jingnan is currently discussing rations with me in the West Flower Hall. If we mistakenly beat one of our own, it will be difficult to explain to the Earl of Jingnan later."

Having said that, he flicked his wrist, tossing the folding fan toward the windowsill, and turned to the clerk, saying:

"Go quickly and invite the Earl of Jingnan!"

"I want to see if this boy truly has a master-disciple relationship with the Earl of Jingnan."

The clerk bowed and accepted the order, his figure in the blue robe gradually disappearing into the depths of the corridor.

The sunlight slanted an inch across the carved window frame and landed right on the tiger's mouth of Prefect Zhang Bingchang's hand as he stroked the folding fan.

A gust of wind suddenly swept past outside the hall.

Zhu Cilang glanced out the corridor, where the scarlet petals of the pomegranate tree were falling in a flurry.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the clanging sound of armored vehicles came from the end of the stone steps.

First, the clerk hurried into the hall. He hastily straightened his handkerchief and, panting heavily, sang into the hall:

"Reporting to the Prefect—the Earl of Jingnan—he has arrived!"

Before the chanting had even finished, the seven-foot-tall man had already stepped over the two-foot-high threshold.

The Xuan Tieshan Wenjia, bathed in the midday sun, cast a cold light on the "Silent" memorial tablet in front of the hall.

The newcomer had a pair of bristling beards that stood up like steel needles, thick eyebrows that covered a pair of leopard eyes, and a lion-headed goose-feather knife hanging at his waist.

Two bodyguards carrying gilded tiger-head spears followed closely behind.

His imposing figure, with his bushy beard, bulging eyes, and clanging armor, seemed to leap off the page, just like Zhang Fei from a folk New Year painting, who shattered the Changban Bridge.

The clerk stumbled forward, his trembling hand pointing at Zhu Cilang:

"My lord! This is the boy who claims to be your disciple!"

The bearded general who resembled Zhang Fei was none other than Huang Degong, the garrison commander of Luzhou, one of the four towns north of the Yangtze River.

In the sixteenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, he led his troops to defeat Liu Chao, the general of Baoding who had defected to Li Zicheng, and was awarded the title of Earl of Jingnan for this military achievement.

A bloody, murderous aura, forged through countless battles, swept over us.

Zhu Cilang felt a chill run down his spine—the hilt of the knife was engraved with the four characters "Bestowed by Emperor Chongzhen," with dark red scabs remaining on it.

"Oh?"

His leopard-like eyes widened, and his gaze, sharp as two blades, rooted Zhu Cilang to the spot:

"Who are you? Why are you impersonating my student?"

Amidst the clanging of the armor plates, he suddenly took two steps forward.

"I, this general, have spent my entire life on the battlefield, yet I am illiterate and have never had any disciples."

After saying this, he threw his head back and laughed loudly, his voice booming like a bell.

The shockwave made everyone in the hall's eardrums vibrate, and even made the water-and-fire sticks in the hands of the yamen runners tremble slightly.

Upon hearing this, Song An was astonished, his eyes widening instantly as he stared at Zhu Cilang in disbelief.

Her withered lips trembled as if about to burst forth a question:

"Didn't you previously refer to Huang Degong as your mentor? How do you explain this current situation?"

Zhu Cilang was startled, realizing he had forgotten about this matter.

[The History of Ming Dynasty does indeed record: "He was rough and fierce, and did not understand the meaning of literature."]

Zhang Bingchang put on a smile and nudged the advisor. The advisor immediately placed a nanmu armchair behind Huang Degong. When Huang Degong sat down, his towering figure made the chair creak.

"explain!"

Huang Degong's voice was like muffled thunder.

"Why are you impersonating my disciple? Confess the truth, and you may be spared physical punishment."

Zhang Bingchang shrank his neck and smiled obsequiously:

"Your Excellency is wise!"

"I sensed something amiss with this young man the moment I saw him. Indeed, I must trouble the Earl of Jingnan with his discerning eye. With your sharp eyes, how could such a scoundrel possibly escape detection?"

Zhu Cilang met the piercing gaze with composure:

"Even if a student is incredibly bold, he would never dare to lie in front of his teacher."

"It's just that my mentor is usually very busy, and important people often forget things, so it's understandable that he didn't remember me for a moment."

He tilted his head slightly back, his neck straight.

"If word gets out that our teacher treats his students this way, won't it chill the hearts of scholars in the Jianghuai region?"

Upon hearing this, Huang Degong frowned slightly, as if deep in thought.

Suddenly, he stood up abruptly, approaching Zhu Cilang like a small mountain:

"Since you call yourself my disciple, do you know what kind of armor I wore when I defeated Zhang Xianzhong in Qianshan in the fourteenth year of the Chongzhen reign?"

While asking the question, his five fingers were already on the hilt of the knife.

Zhu Cilang noticed that the fingertip was repeatedly rubbing the groove in the character "祯".

This is a military general's conditioned reflex of loyalty to his monarch, and also a habitual action before killing someone.

"At that time, the general wore three layers of iron-scaled lamellar armor, and his right arm was engraved with a tiger head pattern on a bronze wrist guard."

"Oh?"

Huang Degong's leopard-like eyes narrowed slightly; this detail was exactly what he wore when he launched a night raid on Zhang Xianzhong's supply lines.

"How many enemies did I slay that night?"

"He killed twenty-seven men in battle, captured Ma Wu alive, and even with his arrow wounds bursting open, he still held his spear and pursued the enemy for three miles..."

Zhu Cilang answered fluently, and the dust in the courtroom seemed to freeze in the slanting sunlight.

Huang Degong nodded slightly.

A sliver of color returned to Song An's ashen face, and a half-smile appeared on his chapped lips.

"Do you know how many layers of formation my vanguard battalion used when we fought Liu Chao last year?"

Huang Degong suddenly leaned forward, and his goose-feather saber was drawn three inches from its sheath without warning.