Chapter 52: Mutual Destruction

A fine drizzle began to fall from the sky, while the commoners around chewed on fragments of minced meat and remnants. Kneeling on the ground, they kowtowed in worship to Zhu Shuang, shouting praises to him as the benevolent blue-sky official. Zhu Shuang waved his sleeve, turned his horse around, and departed with a smile.

The commoners wept bitterly in the downpour, mourning their loved ones who had perished, or perhaps rejoicing in their own rebirth.

On the marching route, Zhu Shuang spurred his horse to ride beside Zhu Wenzheng, who had remained silent the entire way. With a gentle chuckle, Zhu Shuang said, "I, Zhu Shuang, have spoken countless falsehoods and empty words in my life, yet the declaration that this campaign is fought for the people is entirely without deceit. You are a veteran; you should understand better than anyone that without the sincere and heartfelt devotion of the realm's commoners, no matter how vast an army one commands, one is merely the next Chen Youliang."

Hanging his head in low spirits, Zhu Wenzheng raised his gaze and asked with unprecedented seriousness, "If one day I commit a transgression, would you treat us the same way Uncle does?"

"So all along the way, you've been brooding over such nonsense? Unlike my father, I do not govern through the pursuit of harsh laws and severe punishments. My philosophy is to learn from past mistakes to prevent future ones, and to cure the sickness to save the patient. However, if you ever repeat such atrocities as plundering the commoners and seizing women by force in Nanchang, this Prince will make you regret ever being born into this world."

Hearing these words, Zhu Wenzheng felt a sudden weight lift from his heart. Human nature being what it was, once matters were spoken openly, the gloomy clouds in his mind dissipated as well. At the very least, his thoughts were clear, and knowing the boundary meant he would no longer have to live in constant trepidation.

For military generals who lived with their heads on the line, the thing they feared most was a suspicious and paranoid sovereign—dreading the day their heads might mysteriously roll off their shoulders at dawn.

The Pacification Army distributed the grain from the city granaries to the commoners and thoroughly plundered the wealthy households that had supported the Mongol Yuan dynasty.

Zhu Shuang simply did not believe that under the tyrannical Yuan rule, those fat-bellied families draped in silks and satins with gold and silver scattered throughout their homes could be considered good and decent people.

As for how these people might throw tantrums afterward and run off to Nanjing's Forbidden City to complain to Zhu Yuanzhu, what did that have to do with him, Zhu Shuang, the Prince of Qin?

At the head of his grand army, he traveled at a leisurely pace, stopping and going as if on a spring sightseeing excursion.

Meanwhile, inside the Yuan army camp stationed in Tongzhou, Köke Temür (Naharču), wearing braids and the long robes of a Mongol prince, was consumed by thunderous rage after receiving three successive batches of letters.

Inside the imperial tent, a leather whip cracked loudly.

Wielding a riding crop, he lashed Köke Temür (Bayán Temür/Wang Baobao)—who was stripped to the waist and tightly bound—until his body was covered in bloody welts.

With a gloomy expression, Naharču brandished a letter whose red wax seal had just been broken, and screamed hoarsely at Bayán Temür: "Oh, you Kokochü Temür! Usually, you put on the act of a loyal subject and filial son to deceive this old man. I disregarded everything and trusted you implicitly, yet you ignored military orders and secretly dispatched ten thousand cavalry northward to unite with the Taiyuan garrison, seizing my ancestral land and killing my own younger brother, Thenghag!"

Beaten to the verge of breathlessness, Bayán Temür struggled to speak: "May the Commander-in-Chief appease his wrath! This is a stratagem of alienation sown by the Ming people. Xu Da and Zhu Shuang are simply waiting for us Mongols to slaughter one another."

Throwing the three letters before him, Naharču flew into a towering rage: "Do you take this old man for a three-year-old child, Kokochü? This is conclusive proof from Baoanzhou, witnessed firsthand by He Ping: your younger brother To'in Temür and your subordinate Guantong combined forces with the fake Ming Prince of Qin to attack Xuanfu. He Ping intercepted the messenger, seizing handwritten letters from your brother and Guantong demanding that you act as insiders from within."

Bayán Temür took a look at the handwriting on the letters and recognized that it genuinely belonged to To'in Temür and Guantong. Upon examining He Ping's letter, he saw it bore the personal seal of Naharču's nephew.

A sudden sense of foreboding washed over him. Could it be that they had truly surrendered to the Ming without consulting him first?

Naharču was now burning with fury. If not for the formidable figure of Chagan standing behind Bayán Temür, he would truly have slashed this ungrateful wretch with a blade.

With a wave of his hand, his guards brought forward a two-zhang-long strip of white cloth densely covered in bloody handprints. Gritting his teeth, Naharču said, "This is the blood-letter sent by He Ping, bearing the confessions of your own soldiers admitting that you conspired with the enemy and betrayed the country. With ironclad proof right before your eyes, do you, Kokochü, still have the face to quibble? Hear my order: escort Kokochü Temür to Daidu and await the Emperor's sacred verdict."

Bayán Temür stared closely at the blood-letter and saw thousands of bloody handprints. At that moment, even if he fell into a vat of yellow clay, he could never wash himself clean.

If he were sent to Daidu and placed before the naturally suspicious Toghon Temür—who was already displeased with his father and son for amassing troops to assert their independence—and with his father Chagan newly defeated, once he was bound alone before the Yuan Emperor, what hope of survival would he, Bayán Temür, have left?

A ruthless look crept across his face. Lowering his head in apparent dejection, he said, "This humble subordinate knows he has no way out. My father and I have concealed ten thousand liang of gold in a secret location to serve as future military funds. I earnestly beg the Chancellor to spare the corpses of my father and me, and this humble subordinate is willing to offer the ten thousand liang of gold with both hands."

Upon hearing of ten thousand liang of gold, a smile broke out on Naharču's irritable face. He helped Bayán Temür up, patted his shoulder, and said eagerly, "If you truly repent, it would not be impossible for me to submit a memorial to His Majesty in the future to spare the lives of you and your father."

Looking around with a troubled and desolate expression, Bayán Temür whispered, "There are many ears about. If word leaks out, this fortune of gold will surely attract the covetous eyes of others."

Naharču thought to himself that such a massive fortune of gold would tempt anyone, let alone him—even the Emperor residing within the walls of Daidu would be stirred by it. With a wave of his hand, he drove his subordinates out of the imperial tent, cautiously glanced around, and drew the curtain shut.

With an excited heart and trembling hands, he walked up to Bayán Temür. "My dear nephew, now there is only you and me with no outsiders present. Tell me every detail."

"This matter is of grave importance. Please lean in closer, Chancellor."

Wealth moves the hearts of men. Completely off guard, the moment Naharču leaned forward, Bayán Temür lunged upward and bit down on his ear. Transforming instantly into a beast, Bayán Temür tore the ear clean off.

Naharču shrieked in agony. With a mouth full of blood, Bayán Temür used the ropes still bound to his hands to choke Naharču's neck with all his might.

Just as Naharču was about to draw his last breath, two personal guards on duty at the entrance heard the commotion and rushed inside.

One cried out for help outside the tent, while the other drew a saber and slashed at Bayán Temür. The snowy blade reflected Bayán Temür's ferocious expression as he raised his bound hands to block the blow.

The sharp edge sliced through his arm and severed the ropes binding his wrists. Enduring the pain, Bayán Temür snatched the curved saber from the guard's hand, seized the man's neck with his left hand, forced it down hard, and drove the blade straight into the man's chest.

The personal guard was pierced straight through the heart. As the other guard rushed in to slash downwards, Bayán Temür kicked him to the ground and swiftly slit his throat.

Catching sight of a large detachment of pursuing troops galloping in the distance, Bayán Temür cast a hateful glance at Naharču, led his mount tethered outside the imperial tent, and spurred his horse toward his own encampment.

Clutching his bleeding ear, Naharču shouted to the approaching Kheshig guards: "Kokochü and Chagan's father and son have rebelled! Tonight they attempted to assassinate the Commander-in-Chief! Hear my order: whoever brings me the heads of Kokochü and his father, I shall personally petition His Majesty to enfeoff him as a Myriarch."

Hearing this, the Kheshig guards surged with fury and charged toward Kokochü's cavalry camp.

Bayán Temür's camp was over two li away from the imperial tent. All along the way, endless waves of pursuing troops galloped after him, drawing their bows and letting loose arrows.

Wearing no armor, he had three arrows embedded in his back, with blood flowing profusely. He knew that Naharču had issued a kill order to ensure that his deputy commander perished.

The two of them had long despised each other and were never on good terms; today's events, true or false, had completely ignited the powder keg between them.

From this moment on, they were mortal enemies with not the slightest possibility of reconciliation.

When he staggered back to his encampment, his personal guards by the campfire saw him covered in blood with pursuers hot on his heels, and cried out in panic, "Taiji, what has happened?"

Bayán Temür ordered his men to snap off the arrow shafts protruding from his back, donned his armor, and roared to his personal guards: "The old thief Naharču has surrendered to the Ming army and intends to kill my father and me! My father is currently locked in a life-and-death struggle with the armies of Xu Da and Chang Yuchun. The men of the Temür family have bled dry for the Great Yuan, yet now treacherous ministers hold sway, blinding the sacred ears of the Emperor and forcing His Majesty to destroy his own Great Wall. I, Kokochü Temür, will never sit idly by and await my doom!"

"All troops, mount your horses! Follow me to raise arms, purge the emperor's entourage, and slay the old thief Naharču!"

The two hundred thousand cavalrymen in Bayán Temür's camp mounted their horses and drew the curved sabers from their waists.

They were all private soldiers recruited by Chagan and Bayán Temür. Besides, with precedents like El Temür in the past and Bayan of the Merkid later on, rebelling against the Emperor was as natural and effortless as eating and drinking for the Mongols.

Thus, Bayán Temür's cavalry clashed fiercely in battle with the endlessly arriving Kheshig guards and Naharču's central army.