Only after receiving the order did Lu Xiangsheng finally realize that the "New Ming" had not cast him aside as an outsider, but instead had reappointed him as Vice Minister of War, placing him in overall command of the frontline forces.
That… was something he truly had not expected.
To the Collective Governance faction, he was, at best, a former official of the old regime, someone who had not even stood on their side from the beginning, and yet they had entrusted him with such a high position without hesitation, a decision that left him momentarily unable to make sense of it.
In the end, however, he simply shook his head and let the thought go, because there was no time to dwell on confusion when war stood right in front of him, and besides, marching on Shenyang had always been his long-cherished ambition anyway.
"Then so be it," he muttered to himself, already turning toward his officers. "We move at once."
The army stationed at Dalinghe City began to mobilize under his command, with the Tianxiong Army forming the core, joined by Zhao Guangyuan from Hanzhong, Luo Xi from Shangnan, the Anlu militia, and the so-called "young masters" from the capital's garrison, all of them forming a massive force that surged forward like a tide as they advanced toward Shenyang.
At the same time, far out on the Mongolian grasslands, where they had long been waiting for the signal, Zao Ying led her armored cavalry battalion into motion, accompanied by Zhebu and a vast contingent of Mongol horsemen, their formation sweeping across the plains like a storm as they aimed straight for the same target.
Meanwhile, in Dandong City, Cheng Xu stood with Bai Yuan at his side, the two veterans of the Gao Village Family now well past their youthful days, one in his forties and the other already over fifty, yet both still standing firm like pillars that had weathered a decade of storms.
Cheng Xu flipped through the order in his hand and let out a small laugh. "Did you notice something interesting?"
Bai Yuan glanced at him. "What is it?"
"This order," Cheng Xu said, tapping the paper lightly, "was not delivered by Dao Xuan Tianzun speaking through the embroidery on our chests, nor was it issued in the name of the village committee. This time, it comes directly from Sun Chuanting, the Minister of War of the New Ming."
Bai Yuan's expression softened as he nodded. "I noticed. Tianzun has not manifested at all these past few days."
A faint trace of melancholy appeared on Cheng Xu's face as he lowered his gaze for a moment. "Back then, when Tianzun saved my life from the Jinyiwei, it feels like it all happened in the blink of an eye, yet ten years have already passed. We have grown used to him always being there, so now that he has suddenly stepped back…" He trailed off, letting out a quiet sigh.
Bai Yuan did not respond with words, but instead clasped his hands together and performed a solemn salute toward the sky, his movements precise and respectful, as if bidding farewell to a teacher he deeply revered.
For a brief moment, the two men stood in silence.
Then, from across the Yalu River, the sound of shouting and galloping horses suddenly broke the stillness.
They turned their heads and saw an approaching force, banners fluttering, armor glinting, and at its center rode King Yi Jong of Joseon, personally leading ten thousand troops to join the campaign.
Bai Yuan raised an eyebrow. "Ah, the soy sauce brigade has arrived."
Cheng Xu chuckled. "He is not here to win battles, he is here to declare his stance. Still, bring him along."
With that, he raised his hand and gave the order.
"Move out!"
In an instant, Dandong City sprang to life, troops pouring out like water released from a dam.
Among them were two familiar figures, Gao Chuwu and Zheng Daniu, both leaping to their feet with grins that spoke of long-suppressed excitement.
"Finally, something to do again," Zheng Daniu said, stretching his arms.
He then glanced at Gao Chuwu with a playful grin. "Hey, after this battle, the world should finally settle down, right? What do you think we will do then? Feels like we might end up useless."
Gao Chuwu blinked, then shook his head firmly. "No way. There will always be something for us to do."
Zheng Daniu laughed. "If nothing else, my only use will be eating."
Gao Chuwu burst out laughing as well. "Eating is a perfectly good use. When this is over, we will eat until we cannot stand."
"Deal!" Zheng Daniu slapped his thigh. "We take Shenyang first, then we feast like kings."
With laughter echoing behind them, the army set out, marching toward Shenyang.
Three great forces, advancing from three directions, all converging upon the same point.
And at this moment, the Qing Empire had already run out of options.
Inside the imperial palace of Shengjing, Huang Taiji listened to Fan Wencheng's report with a dark expression.
"So, the Ming have launched a three-pronged attack against us?"
"They no longer call themselves Ming," Fan Wencheng corrected carefully. "They have renamed themselves the New Ming. Zhu Youjian has reportedly been detained, and his whereabouts are currently unknown. The first act of the new regime… is to attack us."
Huang Taiji let out a long breath. "What are we to do now? Has the Great Iron Cart still not been made operational?"
Fan Wencheng shook his head slowly. "Your Majesty, the plan to make the Great Iron Cart move like the Wooden Ox and Flowing Horse has failed. We have no way to make such a massive construct move."
Silence fell.
Huang Taiji stood there, momentarily at a loss.
Then, one after another, urgent reports came rushing in.
"Your Majesty! General Zao Ying of the New Ming has broken through our border defenses, several forts have been destroyed by her iron war machines!"
"What about the trenches and fortifications we prepared?" Huang Taiji demanded.
"The enemy used aerial balloons and artillery to bombard us relentlessly, then sent in infantry to sweep through the ruins. Their engineers filled our trenches with incredible speed, allowing their iron vehicles to advance without obstruction."
"…I see."
Another messenger burst in.
"Your Majesty! King Yi Jong of Joseon has joined forces with the New Ming troops stationed in Dandong. Our border forts were unable to resist and have already fallen!"
Before anyone could catch their breath, yet another report arrived.
"Your Majesty! Lu Xiangsheng's army has broken through three of our main defensive forces in succession and completely shattered our northern line near Jinzhou. There is no longer any force capable of stopping them from reaching Shenyang!"
Huang Taiji fell silent.
The officials around him, both civil and military, were already pale with fear, their eyes fixed on him as if he alone could pull a miracle out of nothing.
But he was still just a man.
In the face of such overwhelming odds, even a man of his caliber could not conjure a solution where none existed.
After a long pause, Huang Taiji let out a deep sigh, then calmly changed into a fresh imperial robe before making his way up to the city walls, where he stood quietly, waiting for the arrival of the New Ming army.
His state of mind at that moment was eerily similar to Zhu Youjian's not long ago, when he had stood upon his own walls, waiting for the inevitable.
Soon enough, the enemy came.
From the east, the south, and the north, the forces of the New Ming advanced like an endless tide, surrounding Shengjing completely, while in the sky floated observation balloons, on the ground rolled iron war machines, and behind them stood rows upon rows of artillery so numerous that they seemed to stretch beyond sight.
Even an ordinary civilian with no knowledge of warfare could tell that this battle was unwinnable.
Huang Taiji, a brilliant commander in his own right, understood this even more clearly than anyone.
Standing atop the high walls, he looked down at his soldiers and officials and spoke in a loud, steady voice.
"I shall now enact our final battle plan."
The officials were stunned, their despair momentarily replaced by a flicker of hope.
Even now, His Majesty still had a plan?
Just as admiration began to rise in their hearts, Huang Taiji reached into his robes and pulled out a fire starter.
"The name of this plan," he declared, "is 'Gongsun Zan Burns Himself.'"
"?"
Before anyone could react, he struck the fire starter and ignited the oil that had long been prepared on the tower.
With a roar, flames erupted skyward, engulfing the entire structure in an instant.
From within the fire came the sound of his laughter…
But as the flames grew higher, the laughter gradually faded, until nothing remained.
The people left behind stared at one another in stunned silence.
"So… do we keep fighting?" someone asked weakly.
"Fight your ass," another voice snapped. "We surrender."
"They said we Manchus are one of the fifty-six ethnic groups now," someone else added quickly. "What we did before can be treated as… unrest among minority groups. If we surrender, we will be treated well."
That was all it took.
The Manchu soldiers and officials present made their decision almost instantly.
Only Fan Wencheng and the group behind him remained silent.
They understood something the others did not.
The culture of the Ming might forgive rebels, but it would never forgive traitors.
Fan Wencheng placed both hands on the wall, pushed himself up, and leaped outward in a smooth motion.
Midair, he twisted, spun, and flipped with exaggerated flair, as if performing some absurd acrobatic routine, before plunging headfirst toward the ground.
With a dull thud, everything went still.