While Zhu Zhanjun led the Great Snow Dragon Riders toward the Oirat Royal Court, the atmosphere in the Ming army's central command tent, more than ten miles away, grew increasingly strange.
Zhu Di still lay "gravely ill" on the soft couch in his command tent, letting out a weak cough now and then, as though he might breathe his last at any moment.
Prince Han Zhu Gaoxu and Prince Zhao Zhu Gaosui, under the pretense of visiting their ailing father, guarded the tent almost without leaving his side. Their faces wore the worry of "dutiful sons," but excitement and anticipation lurked deep in their eyes.
"Second Brother, do you think that boy... can make it back alive this time?" Zhu Gaosui asked in a low voice, feigning nonchalance.
"Hmph." Zhu Gaoxu gave a cold laugh, his eyes full of malice. "Bayan Timur has gathered every able-bodied warrior in Mobei and laid a net of heaven and earth at Woniugu Valley."
"Even if Zhu Zhanjun really is a god descended from heaven, he'll still have to die in there!"
"That's an army of more than fifty thousand. One spit from each man would be enough to drown his three thousand soldiers."
"I'm just worried about Father..." Zhu Gaosui glanced at the command tent, troubled. "What if Father learns the truth..."
"So what if he does?" Zhu Gaoxu curled his lip in disdain. "He's a candle guttering in the wind. He can barely keep himself alive, so what can he do to us?"
"Once news of Zhu Zhanjun's death arrives, and Father takes another blow, when his last breath leaves him... heh."
"Then the army's power will fall into the hands of the two of us, won't it?"
"Elder Brother, that dead fatso, is far away in the capital. By the time he catches on, the day will be done!"
They exchanged a look, each seeing the other's naked ambition.
They could almost see themselves ascending that supreme throne and ruling over all beneath heaven.
Just then, a scout responsible for military intelligence came rushing over in a panic. He didn't even have time to announce himself before charging straight to the tent.
"Report—! Report—!"
"What's the panic?" Zhu Gaoxu snapped. "Has the sky fallen?"
"Your Highness Prince Han, Your Highness Prince Zhao!" The scout dropped to his knees, his voice trembling. "A... a disaster has struck!"
"His Highness Prince Zheng... His Highness Prince Zheng has been surrounded in Woniugu Valley by fifty thousand Oirat troops!"
At those words, Zhu Gaoxu and Zhu Gaosui instantly put on expressions of "just the right amount" of shock and grief.
"What?!" Zhu Gaoxu seized the scout by the collar and cried out in anguish. "How could Zhanjun be so reckless?"
"He dared to charge deep into enemy territory with only three thousand men? Th-this is suicide!"
"Quick! Go inform Father!" Zhu Gaosui hurriedly echoed from the side. "We must dispatch troops to rescue him at once!"
The two played off each other, their performance brimming with heartfelt sincerity.
Inside the tent, Zhu Di, who had been resting with his eyes closed, slowly opened them.
There was no trace of illness in his eyes. They were terrifyingly clear.
The Dragon Origin had not only healed his old injuries and his cold; it had restored his entire vitality to the peak of the Jingnan campaign.
He had heard every word his two sons said outside the tent.
A fury that could swallow the heavens blazed in his chest.
Even a tiger wouldn't eat its cubs.
Yet these two treacherous sons had joined forces with the enemy and plotted to murder their own nephew—all for the Imperial Throne!
They had even cursed their own father, wishing him dead sooner!
"Your Majesty, shall this old servant go out and..." Murder flashed in the old eunuch's eyes.
"Not yet." Zhu Di waved a hand. His voice was calm, yet held the might of thunder.
"Let them keep acting for a while."
"I want to see just how shameless my two good sons can be."
Outside the tent, Zhu Gaoxu and Zhu Gaosui had already rushed inside and thrown themselves down before Zhu Di's couch, wailing as if their hearts were breaking.
"Father! You must seek justice for Zhanjun!"
"Zhanjun... he... he may already be beyond saving!"
"Your son begs you to issue the order at once and let him lead the army to avenge Zhanjun!"
Zhu Di looked down at his two sons, kneeling in the dirt and weeping through their snot and tears. His heart was ice-cold.
Slowly, he sat up from the couch.
The movement cut off the sobbing of Zhu Gaoxu and Zhu Gaosui in the midst of their "grief."
The two stared at Zhu Di, dumbfounded, as if they had seen a ghost.
Father... he... he had sat up on his own?
And his complexion was ruddy, his voice strong. He looked nothing like a man on the brink of death!
"F-Father... you..." Zhu Gaoxu's tongue began to stumble over itself.
"Do the two of you hope that I'll die?"
Zhu Di rose to his feet and walked toward them, step by step.
He was a towering man by nature. Now, standing before them like an immovable mountain, he unleashed the terrifying pressure of the Great Emperor Yongle, long unseen, and it instantly filled the entire tent.
"My grandson is opening new lands for me at the front, fighting with his blood and sweat."
"But you two are stabbing him in the back, colluding with the enemy and plotting against your own kin!"
"Do you still have any regard for me, your father? For Great Ming and its realm?"
Zhu Di's voice rose with each sentence, rolling like thunder and shattering Zhu Gaoxu and Zhu Gaosui with fear.
"Father... we've been wronged! We didn't do it!"
"Is that so?" Zhu Di sneered and called toward the tent entrance. "Guards!"
Several Embroidered Uniform Guards came in, escorting a general whose mouth had been gagged.
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