Late Ming Dynasty: Summoning players from Liaodong to support the Ming Dynasty

Returning to the human world from the decaying darkness of the dungeon, the sunlight should have brought warmth, but Lu Jian and the guards behind him only felt a chill run through their bodies.

The chill crept out from between the vertebrae of the coccyx, climbing up the spine vertebra by vertebra, more biting than the cold wind of Liaodong, and even more chilling than the gloom of a dungeon.

Chu Ze walked ahead, his dark iron armor reflecting no light in the pale sunlight, appearing exceptionally somber. He said nothing more, simply leading the group of distraught Imperial Guards through the bustling city, heading west.

Finally, they stopped in front of a huge, desolate open space.

This area was once the largest grain and forage warehouse area in Guangning City—Xicang.

Now, there's nothing left here—no warehouses, no houses, not even an inch of intact land.

What came into view was a vast, boundless expanse of scorched black earth. The ground had been burned to a strange, glassy texture, reflecting a mottled, nauseatingly eerie light under the slanting winter sun. The remains of several warehouses were reduced to massive, twisted, charred wooden beams, leaning precariously against the scorched earth. From a distance, these massive, twisted, charred beams stood out grotesquely against the charred ground.

To this day, a lingering, suffocating stench of burning remains in the air. It is not the smell of burnt grass or wood, nor the ordinary smell of smoke, but a unique stench produced by the melting of flesh, grease, leather, and steel together.

One of the young guards could no longer hold back. He bent over and began to gag violently, but nothing came out. Only acid and bile burned his throat.

Lu Jian did not reprimand him.

He stood motionless at the edge of the scorched earth. His warhorse pawed restlessly and snorted, refusing to take another step forward no matter how much he urged it.

Its wild instincts made it fear this land of death.

"Boss..." a guard's voice was dry and hoarse, "There... are no signs of fighting here."

Lu Jian could certainly tell.

He had seen more dead people than living people in Guangning City. What kind of battlefield hadn't he seen? Rivers of blood, forests of arrows, and limbs and remains littering the earth.

But it's not here.

There were no arrows, no knife marks, and not even a single intact corpse.

There's only... gray here.

And some black, metallic lumps, burned beyond recognition and blending into the glassy earth.

"This is the graveyard of Amin's two thousand elite white-armored warriors."

Chu Ze's voice rang out in the deathly silence of the ruins, sounding flat, cold, and devoid of any emotion.

He raised his hand and pointed to the narrow alleyways that had been meticulously designed but were now just charred outlines.

"I call this place the Passage of Flames."

"The alleyways all run north-south and are no more than three feet wide, allowing only two people to walk side by side. And the wind in Xicang is predominantly from the north all year round." Chu Ze's footsteps made a crisp "crack" sound on the glazed floor as he patiently explained, but the reasoning he gave was chilling. "As long as a fire is lit at the southern entrance of the alley, the wind will rush in from a specific direction from the north, and the fire will be able to spread throughout the entire area in an instant with the help of the wind."

He paused, then added, "At that time, the wind will fan the flames in the alley, making the fire as fierce as a furnace. Those caught in it will have nowhere to escape."

The guards behind Lu Jian were ashen-faced, their expressions a mixture of fear and disgust. They were all seasoned soldiers, and naturally understood what this meant.

It was a one-sided scorching heat.

"The use of fire as a weapon is well-documented in history," Lu Jian said hoarsely. "Although the Later Jin Tartars were barbarians, they were not fools. Why would they easily enter such a desperate situation?"

Chu Ze smiled.

He didn't answer, but walked to the area where the fire was most intense, squatted down, and picked up a bit of the solidified black, viscous substance left on the ground with his fingers.

"Because they came to steal our food."

Chu Ze stood up and held the black object up to Lu Jian's face. "Lord Lu, please take a look."

The substance was sticky to the touch and emitted a pungent, strange odor that was more complex and nauseating than a simple burnt smell.

"This thing was something the heavenly soldiers came up with out of boredom; they called it Divine Fire Oil."

The phrase "just idly thinking about things when I have nothing better to do" made Lu Jian's heart skip a beat.

Chu Ze's tone remained calm. "It's made from animal oil, pine resin, and several unknown powders. This substance is flammable when exposed to fire, and what's most terrifying is that it can adhere to any object, remaining indestructible even when it's in contact with bone or water."

It clings to the bone and cannot be extinguished by water!

These eight words caused Lu Jian and all the guards behind him to suddenly shrink their pupils.

Chu Ze seemed oblivious to their reaction and continued in a factual tone, "A single drop can burn through three layers of iron armor."

One of the imperial guards gagged, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"That night, I ordered people to pour hundreds of barrels of this divine fire oil onto the roof and walls of the warehouse. I also piled up dry firewood soaked in this oil throughout the alleyways."

"When Amin's white-armored soldiers rushed in, thinking they had seized a tremendous victory, what awaited them was..."

Chu Ze didn't continue.

Because it's no longer needed.

His voice was icy, vividly etching the hellish scene of that night into everyone's minds.

Lu Jian closed his eyes.

He could almost see the horrific scene of that night.

The overwhelming fireballs rained down from the sky. Thick, scalding liquid splattered onto the arrogant, white-armored warriors. The flames instantly ignited their leather armor, burning their flesh and blood. Their piercing screams echoed in the air, primal and desperate. They rolled on the ground, trying to extinguish the flames, but the flames clung to them, burning ever brighter with each roll. Some rushed to nearby water vats, attempting to put out the fire with water, but the flames continued to burn fiercely in the water, mocking their survival instincts.

The entire Xicang area, which should have been a grain storage area, has now become a sea of ​​fire, a huge execution ground.

Chu Ze presented modern knowledge and engineering principles to Lu Jian in the simplest, most primitive, yet most awe-inspiring way. There were no immortals, Buddhas, demons, or spells here. Every arrangement precisely utilized rules that were difficult for mortals to perceive, such as wind direction, combustion, and chemical reactions.

But for Lu Jian and all the guards behind him, this was beyond the comprehension of ordinary people—a method that human power could not resist. The young guard, who had been retching, was now deathly pale, muttering under his breath, "This...this is truly the work of human power?" He couldn't imagine that such evil and powerful wisdom existed in the world, capable of pushing slaughter to such an extreme.

"But...but even so, the White-Armored Soldiers are fierce and brave, two thousand elite troops, surely someone will be able to break through..." A seasoned Imperial Guard's voice was hoarse, carrying the last vestige of struggle. He had seen too many warriors who fought to the death, and he didn't believe that anyone could trap and kill an entire elite force.

Chu Ze didn't answer immediately. He simply raised his hand and pointed to the ruins of several warehouses. There, the ground had collapsed, leaving charred, deep pits, like wounds gnawed by some invisible behemoth. His gaze was unfathomable.

"Good question." Chu Ze's voice was exceptionally clear in the wind. "That place is their final killing move."

He paused for a moment, leaving Lu Jian and his elite guards with plenty of room for imagination.

"When the temperature of the entire Xicang was scorched to its extreme by the raging fire, the soldiers used windmills to blow thousands of kilograms of specially prepared coal powder and sulfur powder into the scorching air..."

Chu Ze paused again, looking at Lu Jian's face, which had lost all color, and uttered those words slowly and deliberately.

"It will trigger...heavenly lightning."

boom!

In Lu Jian's mind, thunder truly roared. The sound was more deafening than any physical thunder, tearing apart his entire understanding of the world. He abruptly opened his eyes, staring intently at Chu Ze, his cold, chiseled face revealing undisguised horror for the first time.

Dust explosion!

This concept, which had never existed in his understanding, was presented to him by Chu Ze in the simplest, most direct, and most understandable way for the ancients. He saw the invisible tide of death. He saw how the white-armored soldiers struggling in the sea of ​​fire were torn apart and crushed into the tiniest dust by an invisible force the moment the heavenly lightning struck. That was divine punishment!

"What difference is there between flesh and blood and ants before heavenly lightning?" Chu Ze retorted.

Lu Jian and his elite guards fell completely silent.

They finally understood how shockingly true the report of victory, "Two thousand beheaded, not one escaped," truly was! It was an undeniable fact.

This was not a war in the traditional sense, nor was it a battle between two armies, a contest of individual courage, or a tactical game between generals. It was a precisely calculated, industrialized massacre that left no survivors.

Lu Jian finally understood that the most terrifying thing about the Heavenly Soldiers was not their fearlessness in the face of death, nor their ability to be resurrected.

Rather, it was the unprecedented and unpredictable methods of slaughter they brought! When flames could burn in water, and dust could transform into lightning, those once-revered battle tactics seemed foolish and laughable. The Later Jin's pride in their mounted archery, the White-Armored Soldiers' sturdy armor, and their bravery that struck fear into the hearts of the Ming border troops—all became a joke!

This is a completely new mode of warfare that he cannot understand or fight against!

His knuckles were white from gripping the hilt of the Embroidered Spring Blade at his waist, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged. He suddenly felt that his martial arts skills, which he was so proud of, the interrogation techniques he had honed in the Northern Garrison, and the Imperial Sword in his bosom that represented the emperor's authority, all seemed ridiculous and laughable in the face of this scorched, stinking land.

"Madmen...they're all madmen..."

A young imperial guard muttered to himself absentmindedly, his body trembling slightly, whether from fear or from the excitement of having his understanding completely overturned.

Chu Ze ignored him and simply looked at Lu Jian quietly.

He knew that this meticulously prepared "visit," this systematic destruction of the worldview of the commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, had reached its final stage.

All the buildup, the shock, and the incredible will ultimately converge into one question.

One question that Lu Jian must ask, and will definitely ask.

really.

Lu Jian remained silent for a long time, so long that even the acrid, foul wind seemed to solidify.

Lu Jian slightly raised his head, his gaze slowly, inch by inch, rising from the scorched ground to Chu Ze's face. The astonishment and confusion on that weathered face had vanished. He was no longer engrossed in investigating the principles of sorcery, nor was he concerned about the origins of the heavenly soldiers. Those bizarre phenomena, those methods that defied common sense, were quickly categorized and assessed as threats in his mind.

He was appointed by the Emperor, his duty being to maintain the stability of the Ming Dynasty. Everything before him, no matter how miraculous its appearance, ultimately boiled down to loyalty and obedience to imperial power. A being who could manipulate divine oil, unleash heavenly lightning, and resurrect the dead possessed power beyond the control of a mortal ruler. Such power, if not entirely subject to the court and the Emperor, would itself become a more profound and devastating threat than any external enemy.

The Later Jin Tartars, however fierce, were merely a border threat. Their swords and archery were ultimately battles of flesh and blood. The Ming Dynasty, though corrupt, possessed the legitimacy of the empire and the accumulated strength of centuries. But what Chu Ze displayed was a complete crushing of the old order, a brutal subversion of the laws of life and death. This was not simply military superiority; it was a shaking of the very foundations of imperial power, a redefinition of the concept of the Mandate of Heaven.

Lu Jian withdrew his gaze from the scorched earth that had triggered the heavenly lightning and refocused it on Chu Ze. He stared intently at the young commander, trying to glean a trace of ambition or a hint of overstepping his bounds from his deep eyes. However, Chu Ze's face remained calm and undisturbed; his composure clearly indicated that he had anticipated Lu Jian's question.

Lu Jian's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice dry, yet it contained the prudence and decisiveness of a lifetime spent as a deputy commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. He spoke each word carefully, each syllable striking the desolate ruins.

"These...heavenly soldiers who are fearless of death and possess such unheard-of abilities..."

His voice trailed off as the surrounding cold wind howled, carrying away his unfinished words. Lu Jian's gaze remained unwavering, piercing straight at Chu Ze.

"Do they really... obey you completely?"

As the words fell, the wind suddenly sharpened on the charred ruins, echoing silently to this thought-provoking question. This question, stripped of all its mystique and military achievements, pointed directly to the core of Chu Ze's power, and to the most sensitive nerve of the Ming Dynasty. Was someone who could control natural disasters a blessing from heaven for the emperor, or… a threat far more unfathomable than the hundreds of thousands of iron cavalry of the Later Jin? Lu Jian's gaze returned to its true nature as a henchman, sharp and cold, devoid of any emotion.

The air seemed to have been sucked out, becoming heavy. Above the ruins, only the sound of the wind remained, swirling repeatedly between the two. In that wind, there was clearly an urging for an answer that could determine the fate of the Ming Dynasty.