Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

When Zhang Bingchang took out the ingot of official silver, Xiao Cui actually took a half step back, as if there was a burning coal in front of her.

It wasn't until the prince placed the silver into her palm that the girl realized this was not a dream.

Zhu Cilang's gaze pierced Zhang Bingchang, and his voice suddenly rose:

"The Central Plains are in turmoil, and war is raging everywhere. You, who are acting as shepherds of the people on behalf of Heaven, should be working tirelessly day and night."

"Yet they allowed their relatives to act arrogantly and domineeringly in the village, treating the people's suffering as worthless and the law as their private tool."

"Such behavior betrays the emperor and father above, and shames the common people below; how is it any different from that of corrupt officials?"

Zhang Bingchang knelt down with a thud:

"Your Majesty, I deserve to die! I have failed Your Majesty's grace and have disgraced the people. I beg Your Majesty to decide my fate."

Zhu Cilang roared in fury:

"You dare to ruin people's reputations and steal their livelihoods in broad daylight, relying on the protection of the government's power."

"Do you know that the magnificent legal code of the Great Ming Code still exists? Do you know how the four characters 'The people are the foundation of the state' are written?"

"If I had not come in person, how would you wolves and tigers know that there is still law in this world?"

Zhang Bingchang trembled all over, his face deathly pale:

"Your Highness, please forgive me! Your Highness, please forgive me!"

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting distorted shadows onto the blue brick floor, resembling the outlines of guillotines.

Zhu Cilang grabbed the gavel and slammed it down heavily, the sound echoing through the rafters:

"The heavens are clear and the laws of the land are glorious! Today, I, acting on behalf of Heaven, hereby establish an ironclad case."

"If any of you dare to lay a finger on Miss Xiao Cui in the future—"

He raised his hand and pointed directly to the ebony plaque in the hall.

"A three-foot-long sword hangs around my neck!"

Zhang Bingchang and the others all craned their necks back, their faces ashen.

"We, your subjects, are willing to swear a blood oath! From this day forward, we will surely repent and reform ourselves. If we break this oath, may we be struck down by heaven and earth."

The case was closed, and amidst the aftershocks of the gavel, the entire hall was completely silent.

Suddenly, a muffled gurgling sound came from Song An's stomach, which was particularly loud in the silence.

Everyone was stunned, but when they figured out where the sound came from, they couldn't help but smile slightly.

The heaviness in Zhu Cilang's heart was somewhat lightened by this unexpected interruption, giving rise to a helpless smile: after all, we are all made of flesh and blood.

Song An's ears turned bright red instantly, wishing he could stare a hole through the blue brick and crawl into it.

"This humble general has been negligent!"

Huang Degong understood immediately and gave the order:

"Prepare a banquet immediately, and also prepare a fragrant bath for Your Highness to wash away the dust of travel."

Zhu Cilang stepped over the threshold and walked out of the government office.

The rain that had been falling from the eaves was dripping into the groove of the blue stone, splashing up sparkling water droplets with a "ding-dong".

The carriage was already waiting at the door, gliding across the puddles.

The trees lining the streets, washed clean by the rain, became even more lush and green.

Glistening water droplets hang from the branches and leaves, shimmering with iridescent light under the refraction of sunlight.

The gloom of the past few days seemed to have been slightly dispelled. How wonderful it would be if this broken land could be renewed like this.

Before long, Huang Degong's military camp gate came into view.

As soon as Zhu Cilang entered the military camp, he saw that mugwort was stuck diagonally on the brick and stone screen wall of the garrison office, swaying gently in the wind.

On the drill ground, soldiers were busy pushing cannons from the armory to temporary gun positions made of rammed earth.

On the other side, shouts of battle cries rose and fell.

An hour later, Zhu Cilang finished drinking the last mouthful of water shield soup, combed his hair, and changed his clothes.

I felt as if my whole body was immersed in a hot spring, and the dust of the past few days had all melted away and the dew on the eaves had dissipated.

Without taking a break, he went straight into the main hall of the garrison office.

The hall was spacious and solemn, with two swords hanging crossed on the stone wall.

A heavy ironwood table sits in the center, with a military map spread out on it, its edges weighed down by several bronze tiger tallies.

Huang Degong, dressed in military uniform, stood upright on the left; Han Zanzhou, wearing a python robe, stood calmly on the right.

Song An stood somewhat reservedly at the lower end, occasionally wiping the fine sweat from his forehead.

One was a court official, the other a military general; one was calm, the other loyal and brave. The turmoil in Nanjing was entirely due to these two men.

Zhu Cilang walked straight to the head seat and sat down. He looked around at everyone and got straight to the point:

"I have heard that the four garrisons north of the Yangtze River have jointly urged me to ascend the throne, including important officials such as Shi Kefa, the military advisor in Nanjing, and Ma Shiying, the military commander in Fengyang."

"Furthermore, Han Daban sent a proclamation overnight—"

Turning to look at Han Zanzhou,

"You all actually intend to support Prince Fu as the successor to the throne?"

After the tragic news from Coal Hill reached the south, the capital was thrown into turmoil, embroiled in a debate over whether to choose a relative or a virtuous person.

The Donglin scholars unearthed old documents from the Wanli era and used the pretext of "greed, lust, and cruelty" to obstruct the Prince of Fu's succession to the throne; Qian Qianyi secretly contacted Zhu Changfang, the Prince of Lu, who was "known for his virtue".

However, Ma Shiying saw an opportunity in the power transition and, under the pretext of "Fuzhou's most upright lineage,"

Leveraging Huang Degong's loyalty and bravery, and Gao Jie's arrogance, they also coerced Liu and Zuo, the two garrisons, to deploy troops at Pukou, using their military might to intimidate others.

Although Shi Kefa advocated "serving the emperor if the crown prince comes south, otherwise acting according to circumstances," he ultimately compromised amidst the flashing swords of the four garrisons who "protected the emperor with their troops."

This prompted the Ministry of Rites in Nanjing to hastily prepare an imperial carriage to welcome Prince Fu to Yanziji.

At this moment, Prince Fu, Zhu Yousong, was already in Nanjing overseeing state ceremonies.

Han Zanzhou lowered his head and took half a step back:

"On the day the rebels stormed the capital, the emperor died for the country, and His Highness disappeared without a trace."

"We, your old servants, are taking this expedient measure only to prevent the fall of half of the country."

He suddenly lifted his robe and knelt down, his voice choked with emotion.

"Now that the Crown Prince has returned and the imperial regalia has a master, this servant will correct my past mistakes and respectfully support Your Highness in taking the throne in Nanjing to reassure the people."

Huang Degong straightened his back and clenched his fist against his chest:

"I am a rough man and only recognize the Zhu family's banner."

"Back then, we supported Prince Fu to prevent the Jurchens from taking advantage of our weakness. Now that the Crown Prince is here, who would dare to establish a separate court? They should first ask their 30,000 elite warriors if they agree."

This is precisely the key to Zhu Cilang's swift journey to Luzhou Prefecture under the cover of night—

He desperately needed the support of the four garrison commanders, and especially relied on a fierce and loyal general like Huang Degong.

Looking at all the generals of the various towns, only Huang Degong's loyalty can be trusted.

"With loyal and brave generals, the entire army resounds with thunderous force!"

Zhu Cilang abruptly stood up, walked slowly to the center of the hall, and his tone gradually became more impassioned.

"When our Great Ming Dynasty was founded, Xu Da and Chang Yuchun swept across the northern deserts, and during the Yongle reign, Zhang Fu and Wang Ji thrice plundered the enemy's court."

He suddenly pointed north.

"Today, I, the Empress, hereby swear—"

"If we cannot expel the Jurchens and recapture the capital, Empress Dowager Cilang will throw herself into the Yangtze River, her soul returning to the Xiaoling Mausoleum to plead guilty to her ancestors!"

Upon hearing this, everyone stood up solemnly and said in unison:

"Your Majesty, we humbly obey your command! We are willing to follow Your Highness to restore our nation and recreate the glory of the Hongwu Emperor!"

The slanting sunlight of midsummer cast a long shadow of Zhu Cilang.

As the distant drumbeats approached, Zhu Cilang's voice deepened.

As if drawn by that somber rhythm, I was transported back to that blood-soaked day:

"I am a soul returned from the Nine Netherworlds."

"On the day the rebels broke through the city, I personally saw my father standing under the old locust tree with the Emperor's sword in hand, and he sternly declared: 'You ministers have misled me, and I will only atone with my death for the ancestors of the Ming Dynasty.'"

"I fought my way out in a bloody battle, but all twenty-eight of my iron guards perished in a hail of arrows; not a single one survived..."

His voice was faint and intermittent as he recounted the theft of his military pay in Huai'an Prefecture.

The speaker paused abruptly when mentioning Han Yuanming—

The corpse that Gao Jinzhong had killed seemed to crawl out from the depths of memory, its grotesque form clearly visible.

Upon hearing that his nephew had been killed by Liu Zeqing's troops, Han Zanzhou's eyes turned red, his hands clenched into fists, and he was overcome with grief, weeping uncontrollably.