Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

At 3:45 AM, the night was still lingering.

The eastern sky was only tinged with a crab-shell blue, the morning stars were few and far between, and the cold light shone on the double eaves and brackets of the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

Zhu Cilang stepped over the vermilion threshold of the Imperial Ancestral Temple, waved away the eunuchs who tried to help him, and walked into the temple alone.

Inside the temple, flickering candlelight and wisps of incense blurred the thunderous eyes in the portrait of Emperor Taizu Zhu Yuanzhang.

The copper bells on the eaves occasionally chime softly in the night breeze, their sound clear and desolate.

Beneath the towering steps stood the Imperial Guards, holding golden maces and axes, their armor reflecting the faint morning light, like sculptures.

Zhu Cilang received three sticks of incense from the "Incense Master".

Texas is in danger!

Lu Shique's tearful memorial, Shi Tingzhu's report on the Jianzhou Jurchens, and the military reports of Bahana's troops pressing in on the border—every word of them was heart-wrenching.

The first bow, before me is the smoke of war on the walls of Dezhou;

The second bow, the thunder of the Jurchen iron hooves in my ears;

Before he could even bend his knees for the third bow, he suddenly looked up—

In the portrait of Emperor Taizu, there seemed to be a faint, almost imperceptible smile in his eyes.

"In the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen reign, the year of Jia-Shen... I, being of advanced age, have assumed mourning for my father, and I grieve the loss of the ancestral temples."

"He donned armor and swore an oath to the six armies to launch a swift attack, to quell the bandits and secure the nation, to serve his sovereign and father above, and to bring peace to the common people below..."

The official reading the prayer read aloud, his voice echoing between the beams and pillars.

They proclaimed to heaven and earth, vowing to annihilate the bandits and secure peace for the country.

The east is turning white.

Before the Altar of the State, Zhu Cilang vigorously poured the blood wine towards the north.

The wind suddenly stopped.

A strange silence suddenly fell over the world, and even the banners stopped fluttering.

As he leaped onto the saddle, the last wisp of bluish-gray smoke from the incense burner in the Imperial Ancestral Temple was slowly dissipating into the morning light.

The whip cracked sharply in mid-air!

The warhorses neighed as they passed through the silent imperial city, heading straight for the drill ground outside Chengtian Gate.

On the drill ground, the three armies stood solemnly, spears and halberds like a forest, and banners obscuring the sky.

Zhu Cilang spurred his horse and leaped onto the command platform, the crimson dawn splashing across his young face.

He drew the Hongwu sword from his waist, its blade pointing straight north!

"Zheng—!"

The sword rang out and the dragon roared, startling a sky full of swallows.

Facing the rising crimson sun, the young emperor roared:

"Beat the drums!"

"Order all twenty Hongyi cannons at Yifeng Gate to fire simultaneously!"

"I want this cannon fire, accompanied by the clang of the Taizu sword, to shatter Dorgon's heart and soul!"

Once the order to fire is given, the war drums will begin to beat.

The imperial entourage is about to depart.

……

The afternoon sun was somewhat scorching.

Zhu Cilang changed out of his dragon robe, put on his armor, and sheathed his sword.

The moment I took the reins, I felt the warmth of the warhorse in my palm.

He mounted his horse, and amidst the fluttering red banners, a torrent of iron cavalry poured out from Tongji Gate.

As soon as you step out of the city gate, the mist from the Qinhuai River, carrying the scent of earth, hits you in the face.

Ahead, the barbican of Dongshuiguan spans the water, like a lurking giant beast.

At the dock, thousands of sails blocked out the sun.

The once bustling place, where merchants from both the north and south gathered, is now filled with warships.

The tung oil-coated decks of the fast horse exuded a pungent, burnt smell, and the portholes gleamed with a dim, yellowish light.

The warships' masts pierced the sky like a dense forest, the creaking of taut cables mingling with the sailors' chants, heralding the start of their expedition.

Zhu Cilang reined in his horse and approached the shore. His gaze swept over the massive fleet, and he felt somewhat reassured.

Not far away, an elderly boatman with white hair, his back hunched, hissed at the young boatman:

"The horse-drawn boats and the fast boats are of two types—the horse-drawn boats carry livestock, while the fast boats carry soldiers and armor."

The young boatman suddenly pointed to a double-decker warship on the river:

"Old man, why is that large warship with the iron rhinoceros on its prow half a head taller than the other ships?"

The old boatman wiped his sweat and shouted:

"Hey, this is called a 400-ton Haicang warship!"

"A double-hulled boat modified from a shallow-water vessel, with a draft of five feet, it can twist and turn in narrow bays!"

His throat bobbed, the sound of his throat mingling with the river breeze.

"Back then on Poyang Lake, it was with his nimble body that Emperor Taizu tore Chen Youliang's massive warships to pieces."

The old boatman's hoarse voice drifted into Zhu Cilang's ears on the wind.

This time, the Nanjing garrison dispatched 6,000 infantry and 4,000 cavalry, marching north along the Yangtze River to Yangzhou, and then up the Caohe River.

At the same time, Huang Degong's 10,000 troops went directly from Luzhou Prefecture to Xuzhou to join Gao Jie's 10,000 troops.

The vanguard warships raised their sails first, one after another, and sailed into the distance.

Zhu Cilang spurred his horse, which neighed and galloped toward the dock.

The wind swept past my ears, bringing a whooshing sound.

The Governor-General of the Capital Garrison, Lü Daqi, strode through the dense forest of soldiers and knelt ten paces before the Emperor, prostrating himself before him and saying:

"Your Majesty, the warships at Haicang are ready. We request that Your Majesty proceed!"

The governor of Dengzhou and Laizhou, Jiang Yueguang, followed closely behind.

Eunuch Han Zanzhou and Grand Eunuch Li Chengfang stood on either side of the imperial carriage, serving him with utmost care.

Zhu Cilang dismounted, and before the sound of Lü Daqi's kneecaps hitting the ground had faded, Han Zanzhou's shrill voice pierced the river wind:

"His Majesty commands, Minister Lü, rise and depart immediately!"

Zhu Cilang boarded the 400-ton warship, Haicang.

The aroma of pine mixed with tung oil permeated my lungs.

He stroked the wood grain of the battle hull; the improved double-decker hull of the shallow boat stood as steady as a mountain in the shimmering water, confirming what the old boatman had said.

From the lookout tower at the stern, the sound of the lookout's clapper could be heard.

Zhu Cilang reached out and touched a hidden hole on the inside of the porthole—it was a firing port.

The window panels were covered with thick iron sheets, and lined with cotton felt soaked in tung oil.

Even if the Jurchens threw stones at it, they would hardly be able to penetrate it.

He looked up at the Big Dipper flag fluttering in the wind.

The five characters "General Who Conquers the Barbarians" on the banner at the bow of the ship are shimmering in gold, as if stars had fallen to earth.

Once the order was given, the fleet set sail, flags waving and sails dotting the horizon.

Armored soldiers stood tall on the ship, arrows raining down upon them.

The fleet of boats, one after another, resembled a giant dragon winding its way along the river.

Zhu Cilang, still in his armor, stood at the bow of the boat, gazing ahead as the waves of the Yangtze River surged beneath his feet.

Amidst the roar of warships cutting through the waves, Zhu Cilang's fingers traced the sails billowing in the river wind:

"Has Jiang Qing ever read 'Yingya Shenglan' carefully?"

He turned to look at Jiang Yueguang beside him.

"During the Yongle reign, the treasure ships, with their nine masts and twelve sails, sped across the seas like city walls, day and night. At that time, the banners of our Great Ming Navy filled the sky, and even the vast ocean seemed like a smooth road!"

Jiang Yueguang's shoulders trembled slightly, and he bowed his head.

"Your Majesty's wise judgment! Sailing at sea, relying on favorable winds, one can travel a thousand miles day and night, just as Ma Huan described: 'The sails are high and the journey is as swift as the stars,'"

He raised his wrist and pointed to the river.

"The Caohe River is not the sea, but by traveling day and night, one can cover more than 160 li a day, and reach Dezhou in less than ten days."

As the river wind blew, the mainmast's sun and moon flags billowed like a dragon.

The magnificent sight of Yongle's treasure ships with nine masts and twelve sails has long since vanished into dust.

At this moment, the masts of the four-hundred-ton warship still held aloft the star map of the Ming Dynasty:

The Big Dipper flag points north, the Jingjiang flag calms the waves, and the Twenty-Eight Mansions are arrayed along the ship's side, just like the "Heavenly River Battle Formation" depicted in the "Treatise on Military Preparedness".

As night fell, the warships swept past Yangzhou.

Zhu Cilang sat alone in the cabin, looking out the window at Yangzhou City.

The city walls stand tall, and lanterns hang high, like twinkling stars embedded in the night sky.

Suddenly, a painful historical memory flooded my mind—the "Ten Days of Yangzhou Massacre".