Chapter 57: The Great Battle (2)

A Yuan soldier brandished his saber, shouting, "Long live the Great Yuan!" Before he could even charge forward, a Ming cavalryman slit his throat with a single slash.

The Ming soldiers roared in unison, "Long live the Great Victory of the Great Ming!"

Thousands of cavalrymen followed closely behind Lan Yu, charging fiercely toward the Yuan commanding general, Naghachu.

When Naghachu saw those ferocious Ming soldiers descending upon him like wolves and tigers, he regretted his actions to his very core. In a mere two hours, his subordinates had suffered catastrophic casualties, leaving him with fewer than ten thousand scattered men.

Just as Lan Yu's horse was about to trample him, Naghachu dropped his curved saber, fell to his knees, clutched his head, and screamed, "I surrender! I surrender! I surrender to the Ming army!"

Seeing their commander surrender, the surrounding remnant Yuan soldiers hastily dropped their weapons and arrows, falling to their knees to beg for mercy.

Lan Yu bound Naghachu's hands and feet with his riding whip, dragged him behind his horse, and galloped back to the Ming center camp.

Upon seeing the battered, bruised, and dirt-stained Naghachu, Xu Da could not help but turn to Chaghan Temur beside him, saying with smug triumph, "After this battle, the destiny of our Great Ming is secured."

Naghachu, who had previously played the coward, instantly recovered his bravado the moment he laid eyes on Chaghan Temur. He burst out in furious abuse, "Chaghan, your father and son have enjoyed generations of imperial grace from the Great Yuan, yet you surrendered to the Ming thieves and ruined the glorious prospects of our Great Yuan! Shameless villains, our defeat today is entirely caused by the two of you!"

Chaghan Temur froze upon hearing this. He looked at his old political rival with sheer disbelief, astounded that someone could be so utterly devoid of shame. "If it were not for your stubborn arrogance, compounded by Toghon Temur and his son's suspicious natures, this old man would have already led his army across the Yellow River and been well on his way to subduing the south!"

"If I hadn't single-handedly maneuvered and tangled with the massive armies of Xu Da and Chang Yuchun, could your precious Great Yuan have limped on until today?"

Yet a man like Naghachu was never one to let a few light words shake his determination to shift the blame.

"I am merely a defeated general taken captive, yet you, Chaghan Temur, roam unhindered right here in the heart of the Ming army camp. You and your son Köke Temur are clearly Ming spies! You, Chaghan, have no defense against a hundred mouths!"

Faced with such unbridled shamelessness, the honest Chaghan was left utterly speechless.

Unable to watch any longer, Xu Da waved his hand and commanded, "Naghachu is a fickle turncoat who surrenders and rebels at whim. Take him away, extract the defense layouts of the capital city from him, and then send him to Nanjing for His Majesty to dispose of."

Several Embroidered Uniform Guard officers in charge of torture dragged Naghachu away like a dead dog.

Bound tightly with ropes, Naghachu still shrieked like a maniac, "Your Temur family bites the hand that feeds you and betrays the Great Yuan! Your entire clan will be consumed by raging flames and meet a wretched death!"

Hearing these words, Chaghan Temur's lingering loyalty to the Great Yuan turned completely cold.

Xu Da patted his shoulder and consoled him, "Old friend, the court ministers of the Great Yuan fought for power and indulged in endless internal strife; they brought this upon themselves. The fault does not lie with you."

Chaghan Temur let out a long sigh and murmured, "My defeat was not due to a lack of military skill."

***

Xu Da ordered the entire army to rest and regroup, recalling the troops back to the camp. His gaze fixed steadily toward the north—upon Dadu, the city that haunted his dreams.

...

"What? We are not leaving?"

Zhu Shuang doubted whether his ears had played a trick on him. The man before him—fat-bellied, pale, and whiskerless, utterly ravaged by alcohol and unrestrained lust—was none other than the Yuan Emperor, Toghon Temur, who had summoned him to the imperial bedchamber in the dead of night.

The entertainment had been a Performance of the Heavenly Demons—merely several scantily clad Western Regions singing and dancing courtesans who danced while shedding their garments.

To a modern sports car enthusiast accustomed to the lavish nightlife of emperors, such a display was tame enough to be broadcast on children's television.

Toghon Temur stroked his corpulent beer belly, clad in nothing more than a pair of trousers. He poured red wine from a goblet over his body, while several naked palace maids trailed their tongues along his torso.

Watching the unmoved Zhu Shuang, the emperor thought to himself that this man possessed no interest in women and was truly worthy of great trust.

"My beloved minister Khongqing does not know this, but I am merely a puppet now. Both inside and outside this palace, everything is controlled by the mother-and-son faction of Shazhudu."

As he spoke, he glanced sideways at Jinshan, the Chief Eunuch standing in attendance.

Upon hearing this, Zhu Shuang sprang to his feet with a sudden bound and flew into a towering rage. "How can I, a descendant of the sacred ancestor Temüjin, submit to the control of a mere woman?"

At these words, Jinshan's complexion changed drastically, and he rebuked angrily, "You, Khong Temur, do you intend to rebel?"

"Quickly, go report this to the Empress and the Empre—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a gleaming curved saber pierced straight through his chest.

The nearby dancing girls and palace attendants were frightened into scattering like birds and beasts. Toghon Temur turned pale with terror and stammered, "You killed Chief Eunuch Jin! You are young and hot-headed, how could you act so impulsively?"

Wiping the blood from his blade, Zhu Shuang flashed a row of white teeth and laughed heartily, "Your Majesty, fear not! I, Khong Temur, shall lead Your Majesty and carve a bloody path out of here!"

Toghon Temur had assumed Zhu Shuang was merely a loyal martial warrior and was still lamenting his recklessness. To his shock, Zhu Shuang produced a thick hemp rope and bound the barely five-foot-tall Toghon Temur securely against his own chest.

Using the Yuan Emperor as a human shield, Zhu Shuang smashed through all obstacles along the way, unstoppable as a deity descending from the heavens.

When the loyal Keshig guards saw that melee combat was useless, they hastily nocked their arrows, only for Zhu Shuang to thrust the Yuan Emperor forward into plain sight.

Frightened out of their wits, the guards lowered their bows. Thus, with the trembling and face-drained Toghon Temur strapped to him, Zhu Shuang fought his way all the from the inner palace to the palace gates.

***

His good brother-in-law, Daoyintec and Guantong, had a carriage waiting right outside the palace gates. Surrounded by dozens of Keshig guards wielding curved sabers, the garrison commander Temür Buqa glared with uncontainable fury and shouted, "Khong Temur, release His Majesty, and this Taiji might spare your life!"

Seeing the opponent put up a fierce front while lacking true substance, Zhu Shuang shook his head and said, "How can a true hero of the Borjigin clan remain indefinitely beneath a woman's skirts? Today, I, Khong Temur, shall raise troops to purge the court of corrupt favorites and save the Great Yuan!"

As soon as these words were uttered, the surrounding Keshig guards hesitated. What a righteous, awe-inspiring, and handsome hero! He was so deeply patriotic, whereas they were merely risking their lives for the money of the Crown Prince and Empress. One simply had to go easy on such a man of honor.

Thus, a bizarre scene unfolded: with a gentle swing of Zhu Shuang's blade, over a thousand Keshig guards collapsed like rotten wood and mud.

Before his blade even touched them, the guards were sent flying backward through the air.

*Do I actually possess sword qi?* Even Zhu Shuang began to wonder if the Mongolian saber in his hand was some sort of divine artifact.

He carved a bloody path straight through the crowd, and just as he was about to climb onto the carriage, Prince of Huai, Temür Buqa, lunged forward to block his path.

The curved saber in his hand danced like a silver snake, weaving a mesmerizing web of blade shadows. With a triumphant smirk, he declared, "With the Great Yuan's foremost warrior here, you villainous thief shall never take His Majesty away!"

Just as Temür Buqa raised his saber for the fatal strike, Zhu Shuang pulled a fire stick from his waist.

With a deafening bang and a flash of sparks, the leather armor on Temür Buqa's chest shattered, blooming with a flower of blood.

"You... you fight dirty!"

Uttering these final words, he collapsed to the ground and breathed his last.

The corners of Zhu Shuang's mouth curled up into a wicked, charming smile. "What era is this? Who still plays traditional duels?"

He tossed Toghon Temur unceremoniously onto the carriage floor; since the man was a useless couch potato, he couldn't be bothered to tie him up.

Toghon Temur, however, looked at him with tear-filled, deeply moved eyes and praised, "The Prince of Wu is truly a loyal minister!"

"Once I regain my freedom, I will surely restore the honor of your ancestor Arig Böke!"

Hearing this, Zhu Shuang flashed a broad white grin and chuckled, "Your Majesty, rest assured. With your minister here, reviving the glory of the Great Yuan is a duty my generation cannot shirk!"

Hearing these inspiring words, Toghon Temur—who had been terrified out of his wits the entire journey—could not help but extend a thumbs-up in admiration. "Khong Temur is truly a fine man of our Borjigin clan!"