Chapter 38: The Emperor's Whetstone

Nanjing, the Imperial City.

Within the Qianqing Palace, the air was as heavy and stagnant as solidified lead. Two urgent dispatches, carried by riders traveling eight hundred li a day, lay side by side on Zhu Yuanzhang’s imperial desk—one from Duke of Wei Xu Da, the other from Marquis of Yongchang Lan Yu.

Zhu Yuanzhang wore simple cotton robes, his weathered face revealing nothing. His eyes, which had witnessed countless life-and-death struggles, scanned the reports slowly as his fingers subconsciously rubbed the shaft of his cinnabar brush.

Every stroke of the writing on those reports carried the gravity of seasoned battlefield veterans.

Xu Da’s dispatch was concise. He began by requesting punishment for the heavy losses suffered by Fan Tong’s unit. Then, his tone shifted to detail the shocking feat of the Vanguard Battalion, which, with fewer than six hundred battered soldiers, had charged head-on to crush the Yuan army’s main camp and behead the enemy commander. Between the lines, his intent to shield them was clear.

Lan Yu’s report, however, was far more boisterous. He painted a vivid, blood-soaked picture of the one-sided slaughter, describing how the remnant Ming soldiers had acted like a pack of starving, death-defying beasts, tearing their vastly superior enemy to shreds in the most primitive and savage manner. The report concluded with Lan Yu’s summary: "These men are no longer human; they are a pack of starving wolves in human skin, possessing an indomitable will to fight."

After a long while, Zhu Yuanzhang set down the report and picked up another—a casualty and merit ledger for the Vanguard Battalion. His gaze settled on a single name.

"Fan Tong..."

He murmured the name, his lips curling into a strange, mocking smile. "I still remember his father, Fan Jian. I never expected that honest, simple-minded fool would sire such a reckless, unbridled son. Interesting. Truly interesting."

Empress Ma, standing nearby with a bowl of freshly stewed bird’s nest soup, frowned upon hearing this. She placed the bowl gently on the desk, her voice laden with lingering concern. "Chongba, I heard that Di’er is in that Vanguard Battalion?"

Zhu Yuanzhang picked up the bowl, took a sip, and replied casually, "Yes, he’s serving as a cook there, under the name Zhu Hu."

Empress Ma’s heart tightened, her voice rising in agitation. "A cook? The report says the Vanguard Battalion lost over four hundred men! Those are four hundred lives! You... how could you let him stay in such a place?"

Crown Prince Zhu Biao, standing to the side, could not help but step forward and bow. "Father, Fourth Brother is, after all, a Prince of the blood. According to General Lan Yu, the combat methods of the Vanguard Battalion are far too violent and bloodthirsty; it is harmful to one’s nature. I fear that if this continues, it will damage Fourth Brother’s character. Should we... have him transferred back?"

Zhu Yuanzhang slammed the soup bowl down, splattering the contents across the desk. He raised his eyes, sweeping his gaze across his beloved wife and his most trusted son. His voice contained no anger, only an unquestionable, icy chill.

"Womanly kindness!"

"You only see the danger! You only see some nonsense about his 'character'! Tell me, is the northern frontier of the Great Ming dangerous or not? Are the scimitars of those Tatars sharp or not?"

"Did I appoint him as the Prince of Yan so he could enjoy a life of luxury in Beiping? So he could sit in his palace, pointing at maps and playing the armchair strategist like Zhao Kuo?"

Zhu Yuanzhang stood up and paced the hall, each step sounding like a heavy blow to the heart.

"I need a blade that can suppress the entire steppe! I need a tiger that makes every jackal tremble in fear!"

"Being well-read and refined—what is the use of that? Can that scholarly stench block the iron hooves of the Tatars? Can it make those unruly tribes bow their heads in submission?"

He stopped abruptly and pointed at the two dispatches.

"Now, look at this 'Zhu Hu'! What does Lan Yu say he is like? A starving wolf! Xu Da says he carries a murderous aura that even he finds chilling! This is the son I want! This is the Prince of Yan who can guard the gates of our Ming Empire!"

Zhu Yuanzhang’s gaze grew distant, as if piercing through the palace walls to see the vast, treacherous steppe.

"How can a fledgling eagle learn to soar if it does not brave the wind and rain? I want him to experience it, to slaughter, to witness the deepest darkness, and to smell the thickest blood! Only by crawling out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood will he truly understand how hard-won this empire is! Only then will his grip on the blade be steady!"

Empress Ma and Zhu Biao fell silent. They knew that once Zhu Yuanzhang made a decision, no one could change it. What they viewed as cruelty, this founding emperor saw as the most sober realization.

Zhu Yuanzhang returned to his throne and picked up his brush, soaking it in cinnabar.

"Send word to Xu Da," his voice echoed in the cavernous hall with the resonance of metal and stone.

"Fan Tong, Chiliarch of the Vanguard Battalion, has shown skill in training his men and bravery in combat. His merits outweigh his faults. Order that all armories, granaries, and military supplies in the Beiping camp be opened to the Vanguard Battalion. Whatever they request must be provided in full, without fail!"

"His methods of training, while unorthodox, are effective. Tell him to proceed boldly without hesitation. I only care about the results!"

He paused, then added one more line.

"Furthermore, the cook Zhu Hu has shown commendable ferocity; he is to remain with the Vanguard Battalion for further tempering. No one is to interfere!"

After writing this, he cast the brush aside and handed the imperial decree—a document deciding the fates of countless men—to the eunuch beside him.

"Send this by eight-hundred-li express to Beiping."

The eunuch took the decree and bowed as he retreated. Empress Ma looked at the bright yellow scroll, her eyes reddening. Ultimately, she said nothing, silently picking up the empty soup bowl and turning to leave. Her retreating figure carried the silent sigh of a mother.

Zhu Biao looked at his father’s resolute face, his heart filled with a complex mixture of emotions. He knew his father was right. The Ming Empire needed the sharpest blade to guard it. But that blade was his own younger brother. His father was using the entire Vanguard Battalion, using that fat man named Fan Tong, as a whetstone. And his fourth brother, Zhu Di, was the raw jade being pressed against that stone, ground repeatedly by blood and fire.

Yet, no one knew if this jade would eventually be honed into an invincible, peerless weapon, or if it would shatter completely in the process.

Zhu Biao bowed and slowly exited the hall.

The vast Qianqing Palace was left with only Zhu Yuanzhang. He leaned back against the dragon throne, closed his eyes, and allowed a trace of exhaustion to cross his face.

"Di'er, do not blame your father for being heartless."

"In this life, I have given you everything. This empire will eventually be yours. But guarding an empire is much harder than conquering one..."

A long, weary sigh dissipated into the night of the deep palace.

At the same time, a swift horse, carrying the scorching decree, charged out of the city of Nanjing, galloping toward the endless darkness of the north.