Chapter 64: Does this medicine need to be diluted?

Deep in the Palace of Earthly Tranquility, the night was so still one could hear the beating of one's own heart.

Outside the bedchamber of Zhu Di, a young eunuch had legs trembling like a cotton-ginning machine, his face as pale as if he had just been fished out of a flour vat. He had merely mustered the courage to edge up to the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the activity within, but the sounds filtering through the crack had nearly scared his soul right out of his body.

"Kill!"

"Surround them! Don't let him escape!"

"Wu Mang! Get your ass back here!"

Those were not human sounds; they were like a beast trapped in a cage, clawing and biting with boundless agony and berserk rage.

With a shrill yelp, the young eunuch scrambled on all fours toward Empress Ma's bedchamber.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty, this is terrible! The Fourth Prince... he's having a nightmare!"

Empress Ma hurried over, draped in a robe. Through the heavy chamber doors, she clearly heard her son's suppressed, hoarse roars. Her heart felt as though it were gripped by an icy hand, the pain so sharp it nearly cut off her breath.

"My son..." Leaning against the cold palace wall, tears silently streamed down the wrinkles on her face as she murmured repeatedly, "A sin... all these damned, cutthroat wars, what a terrible sin..."

She did not order the doors pushed open, choosing instead to stand outside in the quiet dark, keeping vigil with him, until the sounds inside gradually subsided into heavy breathing.

The next day, just as dawn was breaking.

The palace guards and eunuchs stayed far away, watching the terrifying, shirtless figure on the drill ground.

The mace in Zhu Di's hands whistled as it tore through the air. There was no rhythm, no routine—only the simplest, most direct chops, smashes, sweeps, and swings. Every strike was delivered with every ounce of his strength, as if he were trying to batter the invisible enemy before him into a bloody paste of flesh and bone.

Sweat rolled down his sharply defined jawline, dripping onto the ground and instantly darkening a small patch of dust.

Empress Ma stood in the distant corridor, watching quietly, her eyes brimming with an unyielding ache.

The elderly nanny attending her watched with a trembling heart, lowering her voice, "Your Majesty... the baleful aura on the Fourth Prince is far too heavy."

"A man who has crawled out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood—how could he not have a baleful aura about him?" Empress Ma sighed, her voice laden with worry.

The old nanny's eyes darted around. She stepped closer and whispered, "Your Majesty, this old servant has an idea. The Fourth Prince has reached the age for marriage. Why not... find him a virtuous princess consort? Perhaps the harmony of yin and yang could temper the baleful aura weighing upon His Highness."

Empress Ma's eyes suddenly lit up at these words.

Indeed! Starting a family!

Feeling as though she had clutched at a straw to save her life, she nodded repeatedly. "You're right! You're right! This matter must be attended to immediately!"

A few days later, in the deepest exercise yard of the Jinyiwei's imperial prison, the air was cold enough to form ice.

Zhu Yuanzhang stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression dark and solemn. Crown Prince Zhu Biao stood at his side, his brows slightly knitted.

"Bring him up."

At the command of the Jinyiwei Commander, the iron gate at the far end of the drill ground slowly swung open. A heavy, clanking drag of iron chains echoed from near to far as more than ten elite Jinyiwei guards used arm-thick iron chains to tightly haul a "monster."

That "monster" stood perhaps two meters tall, his muscles knotted like stacked boulders, bulging so fiercely they nearly burst his prison garments. His features were ferocious, his eyes blood red, and a beast-like growl emanated from his throat, forming a single word over and over again.

"Hungry..."

"Hungry!!"

He struggled wildly, pulling the chains taut until they let out a creaking strain. The dozen Jinyiwei guards were dragged stumbling forward, their faces flushed crimson.

Zhu Yuanzhang's pupils suddenly constricted. He turned to look at the Jinyiwei Thousand-Man Commander in charge of the operation, his voice sounding somewhat dry, "Even after being diluted, the effect is still this potent?"

The commander was stunned, his mind failing to keep up for a second, and he instinctively replied, "Ah? It... it needed to be diluted?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he dropped to his knees with a thud, cold sweat instantly soaking through his back as he kowtowed like a pounding pestle. "Pardon me, Your Majesty! This subordinate has failed in his duty! I deserve death, Your Majesty, please forgive me! This subordinate did not know the medicine required dilution and directly made the death row prisoner... drink a whole bottle!"

Zhu Yuanzhang's cheek twitched; he felt a bit awkward, realizing that he indeed hadn't mentioned that detail the other day. He waved a hand. "Get up. You are pardoned."

Immediately after, he asked, "Tell me about the changes in this death row prisoner, as well as his food consumption."

Daring not to delay, the commander quickly reported, "Reporting to Your Majesty, after taking the medicine, this prisoner's appetite increased explosively. In a single meal, he can consume three whole sheep! If he is not satisfied, he flies into a frenzy. Just the day before yesterday, he almost... almost devoured a prison guard who was feeding him alive on the spot! His strength is boundless; ordinary swords and sabers can only leave a white mark on his body, and the speed at which his wounds heal is astonishingly fast. However—"

"However what?"

"However... his consciousness seems impaired by the hunger, turning muddy and confused. Only his instinct to feed remains, and his desire for meat has grown to an absolute extreme."

Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Biao exchanged glances, both seeing the solemnity in each other's eyes.

Zhu Biao spoke first, his voice gentle yet piercing straight to the point, "Imperial Father, it seems what Commander Fan reported is largely accurate. Such fierce and potent medicine—even if diluted a hundredfold—would require a grain supply to equip tens of thousands of soldiers that our Ming treasury simply cannot support. I fear that before we even destroy the enemy, our Great Ming itself... will be eaten into ruin."

Using the forced stimulation of medicinal stones was, after all, a heretical path.

Zhu Yuanzhang fell silent. He had to admit that the Crown Prince was right.

At that moment, a eunuch hurried over, handing up a secret letter from Mount Longhu.

Zhu Yuanzhang broke it open and read it. The letter stated that the bamboo slips were indeed late-Han dynasty antiques, but the medicinal formula upon them... after studying it for several days, the Taoist masters of Mount Longhu had no clue, feeling it was more akin to a vernacular novel, mentioning things like the "Netherworld Dark Tiger" and the "Northern Darkness Giant Kun"—things never heard of before.

The final hope was shattered.

The burning desire in Zhu Yuanzhang's heart to greatly expand the vanguard camp and forge an invincible army was doused from head to toe, as if by a basin of ice water.

He could neither afford to feed them nor manage to create them.

Looking at the "monster" still roaring madly, a trace of disgust and disappointment flashed in his eyes.

"Dispose of it."

Two chilling words sealed the end of a life.

"As you command!" The figures of the Jinyiwei acknowledged the order and departed.

Zhu Yuanzhang stood in the gloomy drill ground, gazing at the gray sky, his heart a swirl of mixed emotions.

That slippery fatty Fan Tong had painted him a magnificent pie in the sky, yet it was a pie he could see but never eat.

So be it! Let him stay in Beiping! He is close to the Fourth Prince; with him around, the Fourth Prince will have a trump card when facing Yuan and Mongol forces directly in the north!