Chapter 15: We’re Really Screwed-Desastre na Grande Ming(Se houver algo estranho, não se assuste.)

In the midst of a pile of firewood stood a large iron cauldron. Last time, Wang Baobao had lost face, so he gathered over a dozen Mongolian women to help, and more than a thousand Mongolian herders didn’t even bother with their sheep, crowding around to watch the spectacle.

Zhu Zhu saw Mother Wu among the crowd—ah, Grandma Wu—and discreetly gave her a signal. Secretly, he prepared to toss a note over, but Zhang Yu caught it. Zhang Yu was about to raise his hand to report when Qiu Fu stopped him.

“Zhang Yu, are you being stubborn? Is this something we should meddle in?”

“But that Yan…”

Hearing this, Zhu Zhu’s eyes lit up and he cautiously asked, “Brother Zhang Yu, do you have a son named Zhang Fu?”

Qiu Fu cupped his fist in reply, “To your honor, that lad is still single.”

Zhu Zhu smiled, “And how should I address you, brother?”

“My name is Qiu Fu.”

That made sense—weren’t they the two enforcers under Fourth Brother?

“Qiu Sergeant, aren’t you from Haozhou? How did you two end up in the Yuan army camp here?”

“To your honor, I was conscripted by the Yuan when I went to Kaifeng for a family visit. Brother Zhang Yu was originally a Yuan official, but was sentenced to exile after his father was found guilty.”

“Would you two like to become dukes of the Ming Dynasty?”

Zhang Yu and Qiu Fu both suddenly breathed faster.

“Then you wouldn’t mind doing me a favor, right?”

…

Inside the enormous iron cauldron, larger than any bathtub of later eras, they poured in at least a hundred catties of tung oil.

Seeing the oil boiling, Wang Baobao waved his hand and ordered, “Throw this barbarian in and fry him till he’s cooked.”

When Qiu Fu secretly tossed a piece of alkali stone into the oil to test its temperature, Zhu Zhu nodded with satisfaction.

Under the stunned gazes of everyone, Zhu Zhu leapt into the cauldron in a single bound.

The firewood below crackled and sparked as it burned.

The oil churned and bubbled incessantly.

Zhu Zhu let out a long sigh, then beckoned to Wang Baobao, “Tie, you really know how to have fun—now you’re letting me soak in hot water.”

Ignoring Wang Baobao’s murderous glare, he pulled out a towel from his waist and began scrubbing himself, humming, “I love bathing; it’s good for my skin.”

His movements were vigorous, splashing oil droplets that flew from the cauldron.

The surrounding Yuan soldiers retreated in fright.

“Hahaha, so comfortable, absolutely wonderful.”

A man splashing and laughing in boiling oil—was he even human?

The thousands of herders watching were reminded of the demon king Poxun often mentioned by the Yellow Sect monks on the vast grasslands.

Frightened, they prostrated themselves, praying to the Eternal Heaven and the Bodhisattva for protection.

Wang Baobao, face as black as the bottom of the cauldron, cautiously moved his foot closer and dipped his horsewhip into the oil.

He tasted it—sour?

After Zhu Zhu finished bathing, he jumped out, wiped the sweat from his brow, cautious not to stay too long lest his skin peel.

“Brother-in-law, I didn’t know you liked drinking bathwater so much. I forgot to tell you—I accidentally peed in there just now,” Zhu Zhu grinned.

Wang Baobao’s face turned ashen, his hand holding the whip trembling.

Throwing the whip aside, he exploded in anger, “All troops, chop firewood! I’ll burn this barbarian alive!”

Zhu Zhu was horrified. Was he serious?

Looking at the mountain of wood stacked at least three meters high, if his wife wasn’t being held hostage, Zhu Zhu really wanted to run away that very night.

Although Minmin was Wang Baobao’s sister, Wang Baobao was clearly mad.

He dared not gamble with his wife’s life, so he stayed.

Thus, a few soldiers dragged him to the top of the woodpile.

Wang Baobao, fearing he might escape, nailed a cross atop it.

His limbs were tied with cowhide ropes to the cross.

Between the dry wood and hay stuffed in the gaps, Wang Baobao was dead set on killing him.

Zhu Zhu’s heart uttered a single word—doomed.

Thinking of Fourth Brother’s second son, Vase Chicken Zhu Gaoxi, he realized his future reputation in history might end up alongside Han Wang and the Ming Fort Clan.

He swallowed his sorrow and cursed loudly, “Wang Baobao, you mad dog! Burning a Ming prince alive—you’re not afraid that the ten thousand soldiers in the Yuan camp will be slaughtered?”

“Wang Baobao, a man like you will surely die in a foreign land and be cursed for eternity.”

“No matter how far you run, whether north or south of the desert, I’ll lead an army to capture you alive.”

“Kuoketuomuer, you’re not a man but a beast, worse than the cattle dung on the grasslands.”

“Kuoketuomuer, your wife will wear a green hat, and your son won’t be yours.”

Zhu Zhu unleashed a torrent of curses in both Han and Mongol tongues.

Wang Baobao laughed bitterly and waved his torch.

The surrounding soldiers threw their torches onto the woodpile.

Sparks caught the dry wood instantly.

Flames climbed from the bottom upwards.

The ground beneath Zhu Zhu’s feet was scorching hot, fiery serpents darting before his eyes.

In his mind flashed the image of Bruno, burned alive in history; his rookie nephew Zhu Yunwen; the soldiers on Orange Isle who died defending Korea.

“Oh, vast Heaven, how unfair you are to me.”

Perhaps the prime minister during the Valley Uprising felt such despair.

“People are divided into four classes, hereditary military households. The lives of Yuan subjects are like grass, as worthless as ants. The court is complacent, barely surviving, the emperor and nobles lost in debauchery.”

“The common people suffer in water and fire. The Yuan is unjust to the world; if it does not perish, how can there be justice?”

“I, Zhu Zhu, have been wayward and disrespectful, without achievement. To die alongside the Yuan is enough.”

…

“You, Wang Baobao, want to prolong the Yuan court’s life? You will die far from home, cursed forever.”

“But if I survive, I will strive for the world’s peace.”

Wang Baobao listened to the curses, his gaze complex as he stared at the raging flames.

“Kuoketuomuer, Yan, the wind rises.”

Suddenly, a strong wind swept across the plain, making tents and Yuan flags flutter and snap.

The clear sky darkened with rolling thunderclouds.

After the roar came a golden lightning bolt, like a wild horse unleashed and an arrow loosed, striking the central military camp’s tent.

His fearful subordinates pointed at the central camp and shouted, “The grand banner has fallen! The grand banner has fallen!”

The tens of thousands of soldiers and herders around prostrated themselves, trembling as they prayed:

“Eternal Heaven, calm your wrath.”

After the thunder, a torrential rain poured down.

The rain soaked the woodpile and doused the last flames.

Zhu Zhu’s hair was singed black, his clothes burnt to fragments.

His face darkened, he stuck out his tongue, greedily licking the rainwater.

A young novice monk carrying an iron bowl stepped over the kneeling crowd.

He borrowed a ladder and helped lower the charcoal-blackened Zhu Zhu.

Hands clasped, he chanted Buddha’s name and set down his bowl.

“Before his passing, my master left a message: he hopes the benefactor will one day fulfill the promise to ‘save the world and bring peace.’”

The young monk finished and left.

Zhu Zhu stood in the rain, wild and frenzied, running and jumping on the platform.

“Hahaha, Wang Baobao, even Heaven won’t let you kill me.”

“Mandate of Heaven is with Ming, mandate of Heaven is with Ming.”

“Yuan falls, Ming rises, Yuan falls, Ming rises.”

“Hahahahaha!”

Not satisfied, he tilted his shoulder for a mock iron mountain lean—if only he had a basketball and suspenders.

Perhaps this sudden impact from the future was too strong.

Wang Baobao looked around at the camp of tens of thousands of soldiers and hundred thousand herders; he was the only one standing.

His lips turned pale as he gasped, “Is the Yuan truly doomed?”

Then, clutching his chest, a trace of fresh blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.

He collapsed, unconscious.

From the central camp tent afar, the Yuan commander Chahan Temur murmured, “Does this man truly have the mandate of Heaven?”

In front of the tent stood a clerk dressed in scholar’s robes, pointing at the madman performing onstage.

He laughed and said to his two soldiers, Zhang Yu and Qiu Fu, “This is the true lord.”

…

Zhu Zhu never dreamed that a short, playful dance could make his father Zhu Yuanzhang’s beloved son-in-law, Xu Da’s lifelong enemy, the greatest man of the world, Wang Baobao, so furious he bled and fainted.

Xu Da, his father-in-law, had fought countless battles undefeated, a pillar of Ming’s unification, destined to be enshrined in the martial temple alongside Han Xin and Li Jing after death.

Yet, history showed he was humiliated by Wang Baobao thrice in Lingbei and Lin, reducing his status by a level.

How much did Zhu Yuanzhang love Wang Baobao? Among the founding generals, only General Chang Yuchun had a portrait in a crimson five-clawed dragon robe.

When the Ming founder once asked his generals, “Who is the greatest man in the world?” they all said, “General Chang Yuchun commands thousands, invincible and remarkable.”

The founder smiled, “Though Yuchun is a hero, I can command him. But I cannot command Wang Baobao; he is a true marvel.”

He even considered this one of his three greatest regrets in later life—perhaps Cao Cao looked at Guan Yu with the same gaze.

Zhu Zhu pondered whether to capture Wang Baobao alive and bring him to Nanjing to replace the dragon throne for old Zhu.

He was interrupted by a sharp voice.

“What are you reaching for with those claws?”

Seeing his wife Minmin blocking him, eyes blazing with fury.

Zhu Zhu withdrew his hand sheepishly, “I swear he fainted on his own; it’s got nothing to do with me, believe it or not?”

“Do you think I believe that?”

“Well, your brother wanted to kill me, but I only danced and didn’t touch him. Who knew he’d end up like this?”

“He wanted to kill you? Then why are you fine and lively, but he’s in this state?”

“Get out of my tent! Go sleep with the sheep in the pen!”

Good heavens, this woman was unbearable, turning elbows outward.

I don’t know why, after half a month of torment, only my hair was burnt.

But my brother-in-law became a vegetable?

Hmm, seems the Kun Dance, this strategic nuclear weapon, shouldn’t be used lightly.

Rubbing his shiny bald head, Zhu Zhu gloomily left the tent.

At the door, the two soldiers Zhang Yu and Qiu Fu saluted him.

Zhu Zhu returned the salute.

Zhang Yu nervously said, “You are too kind to us, honored one.”

Qiu Fu bowed, “You are the prince of the Taiji; we mere soldiers cannot match you.”

“I’m not being polite to you. Let’s go to the training ground to stretch.”

He led the two underlings of Fourth Brother to the Yuan military training ground.

Standing on the round wooden ring stage, Zhu Zhu saw the two men were broad and solid like water buffalo.

Nodding in approval, they were indeed the four famous twin red rods beside Fourth Brother.

He took off his Mongolian robe, revealing a lean but muscular frame.

Compared to the two bulky men, he looked more like a delicate scholar.

“Come, come! Attack me together! Beat me and I’ll promote you to commanders.”

Zhang and Qiu exchanged glances: fortune delivered on a silver platter.

Blinded by greed, they forgot this was the fierce man who had tamed the wolf king.

Qiu Fu had risen from a foot soldier to Wang Baobao’s bodyguard, and Zhang Yu came from a Yuan military family with natural skill.

They attacked from left and right in a pincer move.

Qiu Fu shouted and swung a right fist at Zhu Zhu’s face; Zhu Zhu lifted his left palm to block.

Zhang Yu bent low and swept his leg in a fierce assault; the two coordinated well, barely giving Zhu Zhu room to defend.

Zhu Zhu flipped behind Zhang Yu with a wild yell, jabbed at both his eyes; Zhang Yu panicked and raised his hands to protect himself.

Zhu Zhu then kicked with his right foot, knocking Zhang Yu flat on the ground.

Seeing this, Qiu Fu seized the chance to hug Zhu Zhu from behind.

Without hesitation, Zhu Zhu headbutted him, leaving Qiu Fu dazed, his face covered in snot and blood.

Zhu Zhu circled behind Qiu Fu, grabbed his waist and ankle, and with great effort performed a German-style suplex on the nearly two hundred-pound giant.

Zhang Yu scrambled to flee but was grabbed by the back of his neck and dragged back.

Mounted on him, Zhu Zhu gave a series of Wing Chun facial massages.

“This is the Sun Hammer.”

“This is the Noon Hammer.”

“This is the Cross Noon Hammer.”

“Together, these form the Wing Chun Three-Star Hammer.”

“This is the Sun Character Charge Hammer.”

Qiu Fu, still dizzy from the suplex, saw the ruthless barrage of fists and quickly covered his face, pretending to faint.

Thus, after being beaten to cries of despair, the two bachelors lay on the ground.

“Second Master Zhu, please spare us.”

“We don’t want the commander’s rank.”

“Get up! You two are future dukes of the realm.”

Zhu Zhu scolded them, frustrated at their stubbornness.

He thought of what Old Zhu said: arrogant warriors and fierce generals are all worthless brats; preaching grand principles is less effective than reasoning with force.

Well, as a rough man, he’d use physical means.

“Do you submit?”

“Yes.”

“Master, we submit.”

Zhu Zhu chuckled sinisterly, “I don’t want you to think you submit; I want to feel that you submit.”

He had no intention of taking out his wife’s scolding on them.

He was doing it for the future Ming generals’ healthy growth.

With that, he picked up his horsewhip.

“He’s killing! He’s killing!”

“Brothers, help me!”

“Who dares make noise in the army camp?”

In the midst of Zhu Zhu’s paternal teaching, a booming voice interrupted.

A tower-like Mongol warrior approached the ring, dressed as a general with scars on his face.

Pointing at Zhu Zhu, he roared, “I am the Yuan Grand Commandant Nai’er Buhua! How dare you whip my soldiers here?”

Zhu Zhu dropped the whip and laughed, “Nai’er Buhua is a bad name. I’ll rename you Nai’er; that suits you better.”

Nai’er Buhua, furious, laughed back, “I don’t care whose son-in-law you are, but you’ve crossed me.”

He stripped off his armor, muscles rippling. If Zhang and Qiu were mountains, Nai’er Buhua was a towering peak over two meters tall.

“Kid, remember this next life—I am the greatest warrior of the Yuan.”

The throng of Yuan soldiers around cheered excitedly.

“Grand Commandant mighty!”

“Kill this barbarian dog!”

“Kill this southern savage!”

Zhu Zhu noticed that among the hundred thousand Yuan troops, Han Chinese outnumbered Mongols.

The Han were more roused than the Mongols.

This was the late Yuan period—Mongols joining Red Turban rebels, Han landlords still fighting to defend the Yuan.

Spitting disdainfully, Nai’er Buhua saw saliva on his boot and flew into a rage.

He charged forward, arms wide, grabbing Zhu Zhu for a Mongolian throw.

While lifted, Zhu Zhu swung his right elbow into Nai’er Buhua’s head.

Nai’er Buhua released his grip, raising both fists in defense.

Zhu Zhu’s left fist struck his abdomen.

Nai’er Buhua bent and retreated, but Zhu Zhu’s finger jabbed like a sword toward his eyes.

Nai’er Buhua was startled, quickly shielding his face.

Zhu Zhu faked a move, then lifted his right foot and delivered a Thai-style knee strike to Nai’er Buhua’s lower abdomen.

Like an egg hitting a stone.

Nai’er Buhua trembled, face turning purple, legs clenching tightly, mouth open in silent agony.

He fell hard with a thud.

Zhu Zhu dusted himself off, thinking, “Grand Commandant my foot, I just turned you into a Koryo eunuch in the Great Capital Palace.”

Historically, Nai’er Buhua defected and rebelled repeatedly, clearly mocking Old Zhu and Fourth Brother.

If he weren’t still studying at the Yuan camp, Zhu Zhu would have cleaned house on the spot.

Zhang and Qiu, seeing the once proud Grand Commandant now clutching his groin rolling on the ground, were pale with fright.

They realized this master had gone easy on them.

Not knowing who their teacher was, they thought the teacher’s strikes were too cruel.

Zhu Zhu seemed to read their thoughts and coldly spat out a name:

“Master Chen Hegao.”