When Zhu Di led Great Ming's main army back to the capital, escorting the remnants of Arutai's forces, detailed reports of the Mobei campaign flew into every corner of the city.
All of Great Ming was in an uproar!
"Have you heard? His Majesty crushed the combined Tatar and Oirat armies in Mobei!"
"Crushed them? He wiped them out! More than a hundred thousand heads taken, and countless prisoners captured!"
"Don't talk nonsense! My mother's second sister's husband's son's classmate told me that His Majesty was nearly surrounded. It was His Highness Prince Zheng, descending like a divine soldier from the heavens, who turned defeat into victory!"
"His Highness Prince Zheng? You mean that Prince Zheng who only knows how to fight crickets?"
"Fight crickets? His Highness Prince Zheng was simply keeping his true abilities hidden! He personally led three thousand armored cavalry and punched straight through Arutai's thirty-thousand-strong camp in a single charge! Then, at Gourd Pass, he turned the tables and slaughtered Yesen's fifty thousand ambushers!"
"My heavens! Three thousand against fifty thousand, and he slaughtered them? What kind of person could do that?"
"And that's not all! They say that after defeating Yesen, His Highness Prince Zheng didn't return to court. He led his troops straight on, sweeping across the entire Mobei grassland! Now Mobei belongs to the Zhu clan!"
Tales of every sort raced through the teahouses, taverns, and streets and alleys of the capital.
The details varied, but the heart of every story was astonishingly consistent—His Highness Prince Zheng, Zhu Zhanjun, was incredible!
In the blink of an eye, Zhu Zhanjun, once seen by the people of the capital as a good-for-nothing playboy who idled his days away, was transformed into a God of War descended from the heavens, a guardian deity of Great Ming.
Countless storytellers turned his exploits into tales: "Prince Zheng Rides Alone to Save the Emperor," "Three Thousand Cavalry Smash the Enemy Camp," and "Yesen Captured by Wit at Gourd Pass." They spun them with such colorful detail that the common folk listened, spellbound and ablaze with excitement.
Amid this feverish excitement across the nation, Zhu Di's Dragon Carriage finally arrived at the capital.
The Regent Crown Prince, Zhu Gaochi, led all the Civil and Military Officials in the capital, along with the imperial eldest grandson, Zhu Zhanji, thirty li beyond the city gates to welcome the victorious emperor with the highest honors.
"Your son and your subjects welcome Your Majesty home in triumph! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor!"
Their thunderous shouts shook the heavens.
Seated atop the towering Dragon Carriage, Zhu Di looked at his son, grandson, and the assembled officials kneeling before him, then at the people of the capital who had turned out of their own accord to line the road and welcome him. A long-missed smile appeared on his face.
Of the five campaigns he had led into Mobei, this was his most complete victory—and the one that had brought him the greatest glory!
"Rise, my lords!"
Zhu Di raised a hand, his voice ringing out.
"Thank you, Your Majesty!"
The officials rose, but their eyes all passed over the Dragon Carriage and turned toward the black army slowly entering the city behind the main force.
That was the legendary Great Snow Dragon Riders!
Though they had just endured battle after battle, their ranks remained immaculate. Three thousand men formed a vast square formation, their steps perfectly synchronized.
Their black armor gleamed with a cold light beneath the sun, still streaked with dark-red blood that had dried long ago.
A Killing Aura, forged from pure slaughter and an iron will, swept over them. The pampered civil officials shuddered as one, not even daring to meet the soldiers' eyes.
What a terrifying army!
Were these the invincible cavalry who had defeated fifty thousand with three thousand?
Zhu Zhanji stared at the army in equal astonishment.
He had studied the art of war since childhood and had once accompanied his father to review the elite troops of the capital's Three Great Camps.
But whether it was the Shenji Camp's firearms or the Five Armies Camp's cavalry, compared with this army before him, they seemed so... inexperienced.
At last, he understood why his second younger brother had achieved such an unprecedented feat.
With an army like this, sweeping across Mobei was nothing. Even conquering the whole world might not be difficult.
Zhu Di looked with satisfaction at the stunned expressions of the officials and commoners. This was precisely the effect he had wanted.
He wanted everyone to know that Great Ming possessed an invincible army powerful enough to cow every petty foe!
He cleared his throat, ready to announce who had earned the greatest credit in this battle and reward the grandson who had brought him such an enormous surprise.
But as his gaze swept over the crowd, he suddenly froze.
Where was he?
Where had that boy Zhanjun gone?
He had clearly ordered Zhu Zhanjun to lead the Great Snow Dragon Riders as the vanguard of the triumphant return and receive the people's worship and cheers.
But the Great Snow Dragon Riders had arrived, and Zhu Zhanjun, their commander, was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is Zhanjun?"
Zhu Di's brow furrowed slightly.
The officials looked at one another, but no one could answer.
Just then, someone in the crowd was the first to shout.
"Long live His Highness Prince Zheng!"
That single shout lit the fuse.
In the next instant, tens of thousands of people began screaming the same words at the top of their lungs.
"Long live His Highness Prince Zheng! Long live Great Ming!"
"Those who dare offend Great Ming, no matter how far away, must be exterminated!"
Their cheers surged like crashing waves, one after another, straight into the heavens.
Zhu Di could clearly feel something called "the people's hearts" and "the nation's fortune" gathering wildly.
And it all centered on that grandson, who was nowhere to be found.
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