I, The Emperor, Would Rather Die Standing!

Mobei, Great Snow Mountain.

The cold wind whipped up a blizzard, lashing mercilessly against everyone's faces.

Inside a hastily erected command tent, several braziers burned fiercely, yet they couldn't dispel the bone-chilling cold and despair that permeated the air.

The Great Ming Emperor Zhu Di, clad in heavily worn black armor, sat upright at the main seat.

His weathered face no longer held its former heroic vigor, only a resolute sternness remained.

His sunken eyes and cracked lips spoke of his body reaching its absolute limit.

Beneath the command tent, the Duke of England Zhang Fu, Zhu Yong son of the Duke of Chengguo Zhu Neng, and generals Xue Lu, Fan Zhong, and others, all armored and dusted with snow, wore grim expressions. The atmosphere was so oppressive it was suffocating.

"Your Majesty, we have been trapped for seven days."

Zhang Fu's voice was hoarse and heavy. "Our grain and fodder... can last for at most one more day."

"The soldiers have already begun slaughtering warhorses for food."

"Arutai's main force has us completely surrounded in this valley."

"They aren't attacking because they want to freeze and starve us to death!"

Zhu Yong slammed his fist onto the table in anger.

Old General Xue Lu said with deep worry, "That's not the most terrifying part."

"It's this damned snow!"

"We've sent out seven or eight batches of messengers, and not a single one has been able to get out of this snowfield."

"Our communication with the passes has been completely severed."

Severed communication meant no reinforcements.

Three hundred thousand troops, isolated beyond the frontier, out of supplies, in freezing weather, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of enemy cavalry.

This was a dead end.

Zhu Di listened quietly, his eyes as still as a deep well sweeping over every general in the tent.

He saw exhaustion, anxiety, and unwillingness, but not a trace of fear or retreat.

These were the soldiers he had led.

"I have personally led five campaigns into Mobei, striking such fear into the Tatar that they fled at the mere mention of our name, and forcing the Oirats to submit."

Zhu Di spoke slowly, his voice not loud, but resonating in everyone's hearts. "I thought I had secured a hundred years of peace for Great Ming."

"I never imagined that in my old age, I would be brought down by this insignificant Arutai."

His tone held a hint of self-mockery, but more so, an unyielding fighting spirit.

"Your Majesty!"

The fierce general Fan Zhong knelt on one knee with a thud, his eyes tearing up. "This humble general is willing to lead the Imperial Guard Camp and carve a bloody path for Your Majesty!"

"As long as Your Majesty can return to the passes, we will die without regret!"

"That's right! Your Majesty, you must break through! We will cover your retreat!"

All the generals knelt in unison, shouting with one voice.

They could die, but the Emperor of Great Ming could not die here.

"All of you, stand up!"

Zhu Di slammed the table violently and rose abruptly.

Though his frame was gaunt, the imperial aura that looked down upon the world erupted to its fullest at that moment.

"I, Zhu Di, raised my army from Yanjing, a Son of Heaven who fought his way through mountains of corpses and seas of blood!"

"In my dictionary, there is no such word as 'escape'!"

He walked to the map, his hawk-like eyes fixed on the densest point of the encirclement—Arutai's central command tent.

"Does Arutai think he has already won?"

"He wants to see me starved and frozen to death?"

"I will not grant him his wish!"

Zhu Di's finger forcefully jabbed at the map, making a dull thud.

"Relay my decree!"

"All troops assemble, have one last hearty meal!"

"Gather all remaining gunpowder and Divine Machine Arrows!"

"Tomorrow at dawn, with the Three Thousand Camp as the vanguard, the entire army will advance directly east, and break through for me!"

"Target: Arutai's golden tent!"

"I will fight him to the death!"

"Either he dies, or I die!"

"Even if I die, I'll drag him down to hell with me!"

"Your Majesty, you cannot!"

Zhang Fu's face turned ashen. "That is where the enemy's forces are strongest!"

"We'd be throwing eggs against a rock!"

"Yes! Throwing eggs against a rock!"

Zhu Di's eyes blazed with madness. "Arutai thinks I'll break through at the weakest point. I'll show him by attacking where he least expects it, where it's most heavily fortified!"

"This is called 'placing yourself in mortal danger to find a way to survive'!"

Looking at the emperor, who seemed to have gone mad, all the generals fell silent.

They knew the emperor had made up his mind.

This was a gamble with no chance of victory, a bet on the last vestiges of dignity and courage of the Great Ming army.

"This humble general... obeys your decree!"

Zhang Fu closed his eyes and clasped his hands in a somber salute.

"We obey your decree!"

A chorus of resolute shouts echoed within the tent.

Just then, a commotion suddenly arose outside.

A personal guard on alert scrambled into the tent, his face filled with extreme shock and confusion.

"Report... Report to His Majesty! The... the east... there's something happening to the east!"

"Has Arutai launched his attack early?"

Zhu Di frowned, grabbing the treasured sword by his side, which had accompanied him on countless campaigns.

"No... no!"

The personal guard shook his head vigorously, pointing east and stammering, "It's... it's the sound of hooves!"

"Very orderly hoofbeats!"

"It sounds... like thunder!"

"Hoofbeats?"

Zhang Fu and the others were stunned.

Where would hoofbeats come from in this frozen wasteland?

Arutai's cavalry kept their distance to conserve their horses' strength.

"How many men?"

Zhu Di asked in a deep voice.

"I... I can't tell..."

The personal guard swallowed hard, fear etched on his face. "But... but the sound is making the ground tremble!"