My father is Chongzhen? Then I have no choice but to rebel.

Zhu Cilang's trip north was clearly aimed at "flexing his muscles" and thoroughly intimidating Abunai.

Simply saying "we are strong" is not convincing; Abnai must see and feel firsthand the power gap that transcends time and is enough to crush all traditional resistance.

This "steel behemoth," which embodies the pinnacle of the Ming Dynasty's current industrial and military technology, is his most impactful "visual weapon" and "psychological bomb"!
He wanted to make Abunai understand that in the face of the almost divine power of the Ming Dynasty, any hesitation, scheming, or even resistance was futile and laughable.

Therefore, this "giant" must be transported in advance, secretly assembled, and properly tested to ensure that it can make its most perfect and stunning appearance tomorrow.

This oversized tent serves as both its "birthing room" and "pre-exhibition rest room".

A cold wind howled across the valley, whipping up bursts of snow.

The two military camps, one in the north and one in the south, were dotted with campfires, like two giant beasts facing each other on a snowy plain, silently gathering strength and waiting for tomorrow's decisive meeting.

Inside the Ming army camp to the south, the lights in that peculiar giant tent remained burning all night.

In the Mongol camp to the north, Abunai lay down but tossed and turned, his heart filled with doubts and expectations for tomorrow, as well as a faint fear of unknown forces that he himself was unwilling to admit.

He had no idea what kind of mind-blowing "performance" awaited him tomorrow.

At this moment, he still has a ridiculous misunderstanding about the purpose of that giant tent, and this misunderstanding will soon be shattered mercilessly and thunderously by reality when the sun rises tomorrow.

Silent all night.

The north wind howled over the valley, whipping up the snow and rustling it against the tents and flags of both camps.

Both the Ming army camp in the south and the Khorchin camp in the north spent a tense and vigilant night.

The campfire burned all night long, and the patrolling soldiers trudged through the snow, their vigilant eyes piercing the darkness, watching for any movement in the opposite camp.

The next day, early in the morning.

As dawn broke, the snow stopped.

The leaden-gray clouds parted slightly, revealing a pale winter sky behind them. The long-awaited sunlight, though weak, still struggled to penetrate the gaps in the clouds, casting its cool light upon the snow-covered valley.

The snow had not melted and reflected a blinding white light, illuminating the world brightly, yet also chillingly cold.

The air was crisp and dry, with white mist in the air, making it perfect weather for going out, despite the biting cold.

At the end of Chen Shi (7-9 AM), dust rose again from the direction of Xuanfu.

A small but imposing force, led and escorted by hundreds of elite cavalry, marched in and headed straight for the Ming army camp at the southern end of the valley.

The Ming generals who had been waiting outside the camp gate rushed to greet them.

The carriage stopped, the curtain was lifted, and Zhu Cilang, dressed in an apricot-yellow casual robe and a black fox fur cloak, stepped out of the carriage with the help of his guards.

His face showed little sign of fatigue from the long journey; his gaze was clear and calm as he swept over the general standing before him and the faint outline of the Mongol camp in the distance, nodding slightly.

"I am waiting to see His Highness the Crown Prince!"

The generals, led by the commander of the Eastern Palace Guards who had brought the troops yesterday, saluted in unison.

"You've all worked hard, please rise."

Zhu Cilang's voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.

Was last night peaceful?

"Your Highness, everything is normal. The Mongols are also behaving well, except their scouts are more active."

The commander reports back.

"Ah."

Zhu Cilang nodded, not surprised. He briefly inquired about the camp layout and sentry arrangements, and then made a special trip to see the huge tent that was still tightly closed. He listened to a few whispered reports from the foremen of the craftsmen who had been supervising the area all night, and a satisfied look appeared on his face.

At the beginning of the Si hour, everything was ready.

Zhu Cilang did not linger in the camp, and did not even go into the largest command tent prepared for him to rest.

He mounted a magnificent white warhorse and gave instructions to Li Hu and the others:
"As planned, take the people you need to take. Let's go meet Abuna."

"As ordered!"

Li Hu clasped his hands in a fist salute, then turned around and quickly mustered five hundred of the most elite Eastern Palace guards and several hundred dragon riders armed with new-style rifles as his personal bodyguards.

Meanwhile, the main force of the Ming army that arrived yesterday, apart from the necessary garrison troops, also began to quickly assemble under the orders of the officers, forming a standard defensive and offensive formation in front of the camp—flintlock musketeers in the center, riflemen on both flanks and at higher ground behind, cavalry protecting the flanks, and artillerymen pushed to their pre-set positions in front of the formation.

The soldiers stood in perfect formation, exuding a palpable sense of menace. Against the backdrop of the snow-covered ground, an invisible pressure emanated from them.

Zhu Cilang took the lead, surrounded by five hundred guards and dragon riders, and slowly made his way to the center of the valley, the agreed meeting place.

Behind him, the 15,000 Ming soldiers moved silently like a forest of steel. The sound of their footsteps, horses' hooves, and wheels crushing the snow blended into a deep rumble that shook the ground and created an awe-inspiring atmosphere.

Almost at the same time that the Ming army marched out of their camp and formed ranks, the sound of urgent bugles and horses' hooves also rang out from the Khorchin camp to the north.

Abnai had apparently also received an urgent report from the scouts.

A moment later, the camp gates swung open, and Abunai rode out, surrounded by a group of Khorchin nobles and generals.

Today he changed into his most solemn Mongolian Taiji attire, wearing a fur hat, a magnificent brocade robe, and a gold knife at his waist, looking quite imposing.

Behind him, a dark mass of Khorchin cavalry surged out of the camp like a tidal wave bursting its banks, quickly spreading out behind and to the sides of Abunai.

At a rough glance, the number of people was as high as 30,000!
The fierce Mongol cavalrymen, controlling their restless warhorses, gleamed their scimitars, their powerful bows already strung, their eyes fixed fiercely on the Ming army slowly approaching from the south. Their fighting spirit and savage aura were palpable. Clearly, Abunai had brought almost all of his most elite forces, both to bolster his own courage and to flex his muscles to the Ming Dynasty, demonstrating that the Khorchin were not easily subdued.

In the center of the valley, a flat snowfield, several hundred paces in circumference, had already been cleared by both sides.

In the center of the open space, a medium-sized but ornately decorated yurt was erected as the meeting place for the two sides.

At this moment, the yurt stands alone on the snowfield, like the center of a brief calm before a storm.

Zhu Cilang, with five hundred guards, stopped about a hundred paces from the yurt. Opposite him, Abunai, with a similar number of personal guards, reined in his horses at the same distance.

The two sides faced each other across the open snowfield, with tens of thousands of troops behind them. A tense atmosphere filled the air, and even the cold wind seemed to freeze.

Zhu Cilang's gaze swept calmly over the 30,000 Mongol cavalrymen opposite him.

The number of troops was twice that of his own, and they were all highly mobile cavalry. In the past, such a military force would have been enough to make any general wary.

But at this moment, Zhu Cilang felt nothing, and even found it somewhat...boring.

The 15,000 men behind him were truly elite, well-trained, disciplined, and equipped, especially the 12,000 flintlock muskets and 3,000 even more terrifying new rifles. They were enough to tear the Mongol cavalry to shreds in a head-on confrontation, before they even reached the front lines!

Not to mention the thirty field guns that could spew deadly flames at any moment, and... the real "weapons of mass destruction" hidden in that giant tent.

In his eyes, the 30,000 men brought by Abunai were less a threat and more a tragic gathering of the last steppe cavalrymen who were about to be eliminated by the times.

He brought these people here less as a demonstration and more as a way to bolster his own courage, using numbers to fill the void in his heart about the unknown power of firearms.

Zhu Cilang had a clear understanding of this.

Abunai was no fool; the terrifying scene of the Ming army's flintlock muskets firing in unison during the Battle of Songjin, reaping lives like the Grim Reaper's scythe, was still a nightmare that haunted him at night.

He knew that the cavalry charge would suffer unbearable losses against the well-organized firearm formation of the Ming army.

He brought 30,000 men, not so much to prepare for war, but rather as part of a complex psychological game: to show the Ming Dynasty that the Khorchin's strength was not to be underestimated, and to prove to his nobles and soldiers that he, as a Taiji, was not a cowardly and fearful man.

Of course, deep down, he also harbored a sliver of hope—what if the negotiations broke down, what if the Ming army underestimated the enemy and advanced recklessly, perhaps these 30,000 iron cavalry could create a miracle? Although this hope was slim.

After a brief silence, Zhu Cilang made the first move.

He gently spurred his horse, and the white warhorse carried him slowly towards the yurt in the center. Behind him were only twenty personal guards, including Li Hu, and two clerks carrying wooden boxes.

His demeanor was composed, as if he were not going to a potentially dangerous meeting, but rather to a regular hunting party.

Seeing the Crown Prince of the Ming Dynasty's magnanimity, Abunai's eyes flickered. He took a deep breath, dismissed most of his guards, and rode off to meet him with only Qiqige and four or five trusted generals.

Both dismounted almost simultaneously in front of the yurt.

Zhu Cilang took off his cloak and handed it to Li Hu behind him, revealing the well-fitting apricot-yellow casual clothes underneath, which made his figure appear even more upright.

He looked at Abuna, a faint smile on his face, as if they were reunited after a long separation. He spoke first, in fluent and even Mandarin:
"Abunai, how have you been? It's cold and windy in the border region, thank you for waiting for me."

Abunai forced a smile, but it was a slightly stiff one, carrying the ruggedness and restraint characteristic of a grassland chieftain. He replied in broken Chinese:

"Your Highness, Crown Prince of the Ming Dynasty, you must be tired from your journey. It has indeed been a long time."

Simple greetings, yet laced with hidden sarcasm.

Zhu Cilang's "How have you been?" and "Thank you for waiting" imply a superior's greeting and consideration for the "waiting" party; while Abunai's "You must have had a long journey" and abrupt "Long time no see" maintain distance and reserve.

Then, under the watchful eyes of their respective guards, the two walked side by side into the yurt.

The yurt was already furnished, with a thick wool carpet on the floor and two low tables in the center, with cushions behind them. On the low tables were silver jugs of mare's milk wine, roasted mutton, dairy products, and other items. In accordance with grassland etiquette, the two sides took their seats as host and guest.

Li Hu and other guards stood behind Zhu Cilang, their hands never leaving the hilts of their swords. Several of Abunai's generals also stood beside him with their hands on their swords. Qiqige sat quietly a little behind Abunai, her head bowed and her eyes downcast, but her gaze kept drifting unconsciously to Zhu Cilang opposite her.

Just as Zhu Cilang sat down and his gaze swept over everyone in the tent, he happened to meet the eyes of Qiqige, who was secretly looking over.

Zhu Cilang nodded slightly to her, a faint smile playing on his lips—a mere polite gesture with no deeper meaning.

However, this seemingly insignificant glance and nod made Qiqige's heart skip a beat, as if burned by something. Two uncontrollable blushes instantly rose on her cheeks, particularly noticeable in the glow of the charcoal fire inside the tent. She quickly lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes, inwardly cursing herself for being so useless and losing her composure.

Zhu Cilang noticed her reaction and felt a little strange. Why was this Mongolian princess blushing?
Is it cold? Or is the charcoal fire inside the tent too strong?
However, he paid no attention to it; the girl's feelings were insignificant compared to the purpose of his trip. His attention quickly returned to Abuna.

After they were seated, a waiter served them mare's milk wine.

According to the customs of the grasslands, they should share a bowl of wine as a sign of friendship. Zhu Cilang picked up the silver bowl and took a sip of the slightly fishy and mellow liquid without changing his expression. Abunai also drank it all in one gulp.

After the formalities were completed, the atmosphere inside the tent did not truly ease.

Abuna put down his wine bowl, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and decided to stop beating around the bush.

He raised his head, his eyes fixed intently on Zhu Cilang, and asked bluntly:

"Your Highness, Crown Prince of the Ming Dynasty, let's skip the formalities. I only have one question: Is it certain that your country will launch a war of annihilation against the Jurchens in Liaodong next spring? Is there no doubt about it? Is there no possibility of any change?"

Zhu Cilang also put down his wine bowl, his expression calm, and met Abunai's gaze. His tone was resolute, leaving no room for negotiation:

"It is beyond doubt. This is a well-established national policy of our Great Ming Dynasty, prepared over many years with the full strength of the nation, and is by no means a child's play. At present, grain and fodder are piled up like mountains and are being transported to Liaodong by sea and land; weapons and firearms are being manufactured day and night to equip elite troops; gunpowder, iron, clothing, medicine... all the necessities for war have been mobilized. The arrow is on the bowstring and must be released. This war must be fought! The Jurchen regime will be destroyed!"

He paused, his gaze sharpening as if piercing through Abner's soul:
"As for why I invited you to join this grand event... you should know the reason better than I do. The Jurchens are not merely a border threat to the Khorchin and the Mongol tribes; they have invaded our land and plundered our people, forced us to sign treaties under duress, and even... committed the atrocities of killing our fathers and brothers! This is a golden opportunity to unite against a common enemy and avenge our national humiliation and family hatred. I believe that the pent-up resentment in your heart also needs this battle to be cleared away!"

As Abuna listened to Zhu Cilang's undisguised, powerful, and seductive words, his chest heaved slightly.

Destroying the Jurchens, avenging past grievances, and restoring the prestige of the Khorchin and even the Mongol Empire—this was indeed his long-cherished dream. (End of Chapter)