Outside Datong, banners snapped in the wind as the great army pressed in, a vast black mass stretching as far as the eye could see.
The Oirat army kept advancing, scouts from every direction racing back with reports.
"Report—roughly fifty thousand troops are approaching from fifty li west of the city!"
"Report—Oirat infantry on the left and right wings outside the north gate are advancing in formation! They have crossed the twenty-li line and will arrive soon!"
Kuang Ye watched the Oirat army, which had stopped beyond the moat, his gaze dark. He knew this was unlike the previous times.
"The last operation enraged Yesen." Kuang Ye had a headache, but no regrets. He only mourned that they had failed to bring out the emperor and had left Pan Yun severely wounded.
Chen Huai's sharp eyes immediately spotted the emperor being shoved along at the very front. He rushed to the battlements, fists clenched. "It's His Majesty!"
Cao Nai looked over at the sound, agony piercing his heart.
They saw an Oirat tear off the emperor's sleeve while shoving him, sending him stumbling forward. Their faces all turned pale.
When the news reached the city, the civil and military officials who had been organizing troops below the tower scrambled and crawled up to the battlements. Seeing the emperor in a far more miserable state than before, they burst into tears. "His Majesty, His Majesty—"
The Oirats seemed to feel that this was not stimulating enough. They brought over two sheep and began tugging at the emperor, intending to strip off all his clothes.
The officials and soldiers atop the tower turned green with fury, all glaring wrathfully below.
Chen Huai could no longer endure it. He let out frantic, hoarse cries, then turned and knelt before Kuang Ye. "Commander, grant