Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

Zhu Cilang's lips curled slightly, just about to speak.

"Commander Zhou!"

Ma Qian stepped forward half a step and interjected in a deep voice.

"The Grand Commander, bearing the imperial sword, is in charge of military affairs in Sichuan and Shaanxi; how can he be treated lightly?"

Zhou Dingchang's bushy beard trembled slightly. Realizing his rudeness, he suddenly turned his hand, which had been hovering in the air, and slammed it heavily onto his iron breastplate.

"This humble general is a rough man, please forgive me, Commander-in-Chief! Please forgive me, Commander-in-Chief!"

Zhu Cilang took a half step forward, his gaze sweeping over Zhou Dingchang's burly physique. Seeing the battle scars on his armor and the indomitable spirit of a seasoned warrior between his brows, he felt a surge of admiration.

The moment his gaze settled on the arrow wound on the collarbone, he understood the unwavering loyalty and courage of this bearded general.

However, when he opened his mouth, his tone suddenly changed:

"General Zhou's wound should be cut open with a willow-leaf knife that has been steamed with hot vinegar."

His voice was clear and bright, like a sword drawn from its sheath.

"When I was in Dezhou, I personally witnessed the veterans under Huang Degong's command treating boils in this way—"

His boots rolled over the still-wet bloodstains on the ground.

"But they didn't tell the general that the arrowhead was stuck in his bone, and that it went in a little deeper with every useless word he uttered?"

He paused briefly, looking at the other person.

"General, do you know why the imperial court sent a 'child commander-in-chief' to northern Sichuan?"

Before any response could be received, he turned around, looked at the banner with the character "Loyalty" outside the hall, and his voice suddenly rose:

"Because all the generals who knew how to fight were dead, and those who survived were either busy vying for credit or plotting to defect to the enemy."

He turned around abruptly and asked in return:

"What kind of person does the general want to be?"

Zhou Dingchang's pupils suddenly contracted:

"This humble general wishes to be the third kind of person! That fool who fights to the death without retreating!"

He suddenly grabbed the collar of his chainmail and ripped it open, revealing a festering arrow wound with half a broken arrow embedded in the rotting flesh, and beads of dark blood sliding down his collarbone.

"This traitorous pledge of allegiance from heaven—the Commander-in-Chief might as well dig it out and see if it's black or red!"

A smile bloomed on Zhu Cilang's face:

"Good! General's spirit is more satisfying to hear than the eloquent words of those slick old officials."

The sunlight outside pierced through the dark clouds, and the Shangfang sword cast a long, narrow shadow on the brick floor.

His expression turned serious, and his speech quickened:

"I only have three questions for you—"

"How many soldiers and how many firearms does Shunqing Guard currently have? How many red-coated cannons are still capable of firing on the city walls?"

Zhou Dingchang clasped his hands in a fist salute, the nail plates clanging loudly.

He reported the remaining troop strength: more than 2,300 soldiers under Ma Antai, 300 veterans from Long Futai's old troops, 1,000 soldiers from Shunqing Guard who had lost 40% of their strength, and 700 defeated soldiers from Cao Ying's troops.

At this point, his face clearly showed displeasure, and he added:

"And there's Prefect Weng with two thousand local militia. Those peasants can't even hold a proper gun formation, but they're more nimble with hoes than with sabers."

He suddenly pounded his chest, overcome with emotion.

"In the fierce battle on the seventh day of the eighth lunar month, I led my men to burn Zhang Xianzhong's siege ladders with kerosene, but the earthen cannons called 'Guotianxing' on the west gate tower still managed to collapse half of it, killing dozens of our brothers."

Zhu Cilang raised his eyebrows slightly and tapped the map three times with his fingertips:

"Four thousand capable soldiers? Two thousand local militia?"

He suddenly grabbed a teacup from the table and looked at Ma Qian.

"Ma Antai, is this all the wealth you brought from Chengdu?"

The linen cloth beneath Ma Qian's armor trembled slightly.

"The Commander-in-Chief is wise!"

"When I led Governor Long's former troops in a breakout, the blood of three thousand soldiers...flowed away on the banks of the Jinjiang River..."

His voice was suppressed, with a hint of sob.

"To have managed to gather all of this now is already... already..."

Zhu Cilang suddenly slammed his teacup heavily onto the blood-stained map, startling the blood-red tassels on the waist tags of his personal guards, causing them to tremble.

He suddenly turned to Lian Guoshi and asked:

"Young Commander! The court promised me 20,000 elite troops—could they also end up like these counties in Sichuan, devoured by Zhang Xianzhong until only bones remain?"

Lian Guoshi's gray beard trembled slightly.

"Reporting to the Commander-in-Chief, the main force of 18,000 has arrived at Baoning Prefecture."

He gripped the military newspaper tightly with his fingers.

"There are still two thousand left... I'm afraid they took the wrong path and ran into the Eighth King's outposts at the Kuimen Pass."

Zhou Dingchang stomped forward with his iron boots and roared:

"Only 18,000? I'd rather the imperial court send 100,000 heavenly soldiers!"

His rough, large hand suddenly slammed onto the map.

"That scoundrel Zhang Xianzhong has 130,000 men. Commander-in-Chief, give me a straight answer: are our brothers going to fight with their teeth or with their lives?"

Zhu Cilang remained calm and composed, a slight smile playing on his lips as he strolled to the map.

His gaze swept across the map of Chengdu Prefecture, his tone calm:

"Since Commander Zhou knows that the enemy outnumbers us, I'd like to hear your strategy for defeating them."

Zhou Dingchang suddenly grabbed the teapot on the table, tilted his head back and took a big gulp, then slammed the teapot down heavily on the table:

"My lord, you are wise. I am a rough man and do not understand those intricate strategies."

Pointing his finger at Chengdu on the map,

"Even if the bandit has 130,000 troops, my 20,000 men will still cut him down!"

He suddenly bowed to Zhu Cilang.

"This humble general only needs three things—"

"First, gunpowder!"

"Not some girly fireworks, but thunderous bombs that can blow up city walls."

He tore open his collar armor again, revealing his scars.

"Secondly, brothers who are willing to die!"

"Three hundred veterans from Long Futai's old troops, a thousand elite soldiers from Shunqing Guard, and another seven hundred axemen. Don't be a coward."

Just as the leaden clouds pressed down on the city, a bolt of lightning outside the hall cleaved through the dark clouds.

Zhou Dingchang raised his head, his thunderous roar almost drowning out the thunder:

"third--"

A bolt of lightning flashed across his armor, turning the faces of everyone in the hall pale.

He suddenly knelt on one knee.

"I beg the Commander-in-Chief to allow me to enter Chengdu and eradicate all those who surrendered the city, those traitors and rebels! Leave no one alive!"

Ma Qian's mourning clothes fluttered as he urgently tried to dissuade them:

"Commander Zhou!"

"There are still hundreds of thousands of people in the city... Moreover, in front of the commander-in-chief, be careful not to utter the word 'extermination'!"

"The general's bravery is commendable!"

Zhu Cilang looked calmly at Zhou Dingchang.

"However, if orders are issued to 'exterminate' and 'leave no one alive,' how are we any different from bandits? Traitors and rebels will be punished according to the law."

"When I left the capital with the Imperial Sword, His Majesty personally warned me—it is easy to quell the rebellion, but difficult to win the hearts of the people!"

His voice suddenly turned cold:

"Does the general intend for me to emulate the actions of those bandits, forcing the elders of Shu to rebel?"

"When His Majesty bestowed the sword, he clearly decreed: The sword is drawn to punish traitors and uphold the law and order, not to slaughter the common people."

Zhou Dingchang's chest heaved violently, and he suddenly clenched his fists.

"This humble general has misspoke! I simply cannot swallow this insult!"

"If those spineless cowards hadn't surrendered, how could the rebel army have breached the city so easily?"

He clenched his fist and slammed it against his breastplate, a hint of pain flashing deep in his tiger-like eyes.

"I've spent twenty years navigating piles of corpses, and I've seen countless comrades killed by these opportunists..."

Unbeknownst to anyone, among Zhou Dingchang's closest relatives who were betrayed and killed by his comrades was his own younger brother, who died in battle in Chengdu.

Zhu Cilang tapped his knuckles heavily on the edge of the map, his eyes sharp as knives:

"How could I not know how hateful those traitors are?"

He suddenly turned to Ma Qian, his tone softening slightly.

"Ma Antai hesitated just now, perhaps because he had a good plan in mind?"