Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

The next day.

The vermilion palace gates opened slowly.

Behind the imperial desk, Zhu Cilang was reviewing memorials, his ink brush and vermilion ink marks making decisive lines on the Xuan paper.

Song Anlian, dressed in a blue robe, strode into the hall, approached the emperor, his robes trailing on the ground, and bowed solemnly.

"Your Majesty, your subject Song An... requests to return to Shu. I hope Your Majesty will grant his request."

Zhu Cilang threw down his pen and stared intently. This former centurion, who had fought alongside him in the bloody battle of Huai'an, had come to bid him farewell.

That gaze, like a deep, icy pool, remained silent for a long time before finally uttering a single word:

"allow!"

A sudden gust of wind arose outside the hall, causing the bronze eaves and iron horses to clang and clash, the sound as sharp and piercing as the clash of metal weapons.

Song An bowed again, his figure gradually disappearing into the light and shadow beneath the steps.

He knew this journey was like entering a deep abyss—secretly entering Sichuan to gather intelligence was crucial to the overall situation of the Ming Dynasty in the southwest, and his success or failure depended on his own.

The road ahead seemed like a giant beast ready to devour him, and he was heading towards it alone.

After Song An left, Zhu Cilang immediately wrote a secret edict, began to mobilize troops from all sides, and ordered a messenger to deliver the decree to Zunyi:

"Wang Yingxiong was ordered to organize his troops and hold a swearing-in ceremony on the first day of the ninth month. Banners covered the sun and drums and horns shook the heavens, feigning an attack on Chongqing..."

At this time, Zunyi was still under the control of the Ming Dynasty. If Zhang Xianzhong completely occupied Sichuan, it would become an isolated island in turmoil.

As the Governor-General of the Southwest, Wang Yingxiong had long proposed the strategy of "using bandits to control the enemy,"

The plan aimed to use the strength of the Great Western Army to contain the Qing army's southward advance, and then use the Ming army's momentum to intimidate Zhang Xianzhong's forces and curb their escape. However, due to the dire situation, this strategy had little effect.

The urgent dispatch, delivered day and night, was sent directly to the military offices of the Governor-General of Sichuan, Hubei, Yunnan, and Guizhou.

Seven days later, in order to cover his tracks, Zhu Cilang issued an imperial edict under the pretext of "border defense training," dispatching 10,000 elite troops from the Beijing Garrison to Luzhou Prefecture, but in reality, they secretly entered Sichuan.

The elite troops of the Beijing Garrison took the ancient road along the Daning River, divided into twenty teams, all disguised as a caravan of medicinal herbs.

The army first took the route through the 18-mile-long gorge of Zhuxi County, and then quietly detoured along the secret path used by smugglers carrying salt, heading straight for Dazhou.

This road has long been a route for local chieftains and displaced people to smuggle goods, making it difficult for government officials and soldiers to fully investigate.

At the same time, Huang Degong was ordered to send 10,000 troops along the Yichang line in Hubei Province, using the Three Gorges waterway to cross the river by covert means.

Relying on the natural barrier of the Yangtze River, the soldiers disguised themselves as merchants and refugees, and traveled upstream in two hundred covered boats.

During the day, they would anchor at the shore to load and unload goods, and at night they would set sail and sail swiftly forward, then secretly head west and stealthily enter Sichuan.

The two armies, like two silent arrows, shot towards the southwest hinterland.

The journey is long and arduous, fraught with danger, and even at the fastest pace, it will take at least two months to reach the designated battlefield.

Zhu Cilang stood atop the palace wall, gazing southwest. These sixty days would determine the safety of the southwest, and even the survival of the empire.

......

Afternoon, at the Great Training Ground.

Just as the two elite troops were quietly heading to the battlefield.

Inside Nanjing, another project to forge a sharp blade is also in full swing.

The red flag fluttered and roared in the early autumn wind, and the sunlight swept across the cold armor.

"Form ranks!"

Zhu Cilang's sharp shout suddenly erupted.

The 25,000 soldiers below the stage responded with a thunderous roar.

Their bare necks still bore the distinctive bluish-gray scars of those working in the mines; these were all newly recruited miners and soldiers of the Five Armies Protectorate.

On the viewing platform on the west side of the drill ground.

Suddenly, a corner of the brocade curtain was lifted by the wind, revealing half of the profile of Zhu Guobi, the Duke of Baoguo, with undisguised contempt.

His right hand twirled the jade pendant at his waist, his gaze sweeping over the military formation below the stage, marked by the ravages of a mining pit.

He whispered to Zhao Zhilong, the Earl of Xincheng, who was beside him:

"Carrying stones at dawn? Drying spears at noon? Taming hawks at dusk?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it reached Zhao Zhilong's ears clearly:

"Brother Zhao, back when our ancestors followed Emperor Chengzu in conquering the north, the iron cavalry of the capital garrison could travel four hundred li in three days... Now these soldiers, ha~"

Upon hearing this, Zhao Zhilong responded in a low voice:

"Duke Baoguo, be careful with your words!"

"His Majesty recruited strong and brave miners, unlike those drunken and troublesome cowards from Xuanfu. However—"

"Those who want to emulate Qi Shaobao's Yiwu miners are likely to end up like the man from Handan who tried to imitate the way people walked!"

Zhu Guobi chuckled, and the jade pendant snapped back onto his jade belt with a "click":

"In the fourteenth year of the Zhengtong reign, some people said that the Oirat cavalry were nothing more than a group of shepherds... But what happened?"

He paused, glancing sideways at Zhao Zhilong:

"Emperor Yingzong led 500,000 imperial guards and was defeated at Tumu Fortress. This rabble is probably not even enough to fill the gaps between the teeth of the Liaodong cavalry."

Zhao Zhilong suddenly started coughing, and after he calmed down a little:

"The Duke of Baoguo's opinion is excellent. However, in this world, even refugees can don armor and wield weapons, which makes us noble families look rather inadequate..."

His Adam's apple bobbed, and he finally swallowed the rest of his sentence.

The autumn wind swept through the room, stirring up waves of cold laughter.

Zhu Guobi curled his lip and said:

"Your Majesty's actions are perhaps too hasty. The affairs of the capital garrison cannot be accomplished overnight."

"Is it too hasty?"

Zhao Zhilong suddenly let out a cold laugh:

"If we don't act quickly, we might not even be able to save the capital."

The nobles all turned their heads, their eyes filled with both mockery and apprehension.

Zhu Guobi leaned closer to Zhao Zhilong, his voice extremely low, almost a whisper:

"Rumors circulate that the imperial star is dim and the mandate of heaven has passed. The 40th image of the Tui Bei Tu says: 1234, no land but a master."

"The imperial aura of Nanjing and the reign of the Southern Dynasties will likely last no more than a year!"

"Brother Zhao, you should make plans as soon as possible!"

Zhu Cilang glanced at the viewing area in the distance.

The curtains billowed and unfurled in the wind, and the dozen or so nobles attending the ceremony whispered among themselves, resembling a flock of murmuring crows amidst the fluttering banners.

He couldn't hear those whispers.

But he could clearly see Zhu Guobi's trembling jaw and the calculating glint in Zhao Zhilong's eyes.

These hereditary nobles, once the iron-blooded unicorns of the Chengzu era, have long since transformed into parasites entrenched in the capital.

They didn't care whether the ruler on the stage was a wise or foolish one; they were only afraid that the sudden sound of swords would shatter their life of debauchery.

"Please give your instructions, Your Majesty!"

The roar of Governor-General Lü Daqi, the military governor of the capital, pulled Zhu Cilang back to his senses, and his gaze returned to the steel forest below the stage.

The bewilderment of a month ago has faded from the eyes of these soldiers who came from mining backgrounds, and the rigorous training has begun to show results.

The armor, draped over his body, subtly exuded an unadorned, rugged aura.

He not only wanted to train their combat skills, but also to forge their military spirit.

He raised his hand and waved, and a group of veterans stepped forward, their hair and beards all white, yet they were in high spirits.

Zhu Cilang said loudly:

"These nine men are elite soldiers, personally selected by my decree from the capital garrison, veterans of countless battles! They fought their way from Datong to Ningyuan!"

He took a step forward, gripping his sword, and said sternly:

"What I am teaching you today is no ordinary battle strategy, but the foundation for you to protect the country and secure your lives!"

As he spoke, his tone suddenly sharpened, and the scabbard slammed against the wooden railing of the general's platform:

"From the moment my sword falls, anyone who slacks off in training will be considered a liar, and anyone who looks left or right will be executed for disrupting the army!"

The sound was like thunder, exploding throughout the entire training ground and abruptly silencing the whispers in the stands.

The leader, Wang Tietou, was missing a finger on his left hand, yet his posture was as upright as a pine tree.

His voice drowned out the howling wind:

"The most important aspect of training soldiers is individual martial arts skills."

"In daily life, one must wear cotton armor and sandbags, and run for a mile without removing the armor, only then can one truly understand the meaning of Qi Shaobao's 'lifting eighty catties as if it were a feather'!"