Ming East India Company

Next came the division of the area. Feng Luzi divided the entire horse farm on Jeju Island into several areas: a stallion area, a mares breeding area, a foal training area, and a pasture maintenance area. Each area was separated by fences to strictly prevent the horses from running around.

Jeju Island has a year-round harsh sea breeze and a significant temperature difference between day and night, which is extremely detrimental to the growth of young horses.

Feng Luzi ordered his soldiers to cut down pine trees on the island and build stables to shelter them from the wind and rain. The stables were lined with dry straw, which was changed daily to keep them clean. Based on the experience of the Goryeo herdsmen, he also carved out sheltered valleys in the pastures to serve as a playground for the young horses, protecting them from strong winds.

Pasture is the foundation of horse breeding. In the past, herdsmen mostly let their horses graze freely, but Feng the Donkey ordered meticulous care.

He led his soldiers and herdsmen to cultivate the pastures, clear weeds, sow grass seeds brought from the mainland on barren plots, and dig ditches to irrigate the land with spring water from Hallasan Mountain, making the pastures grow more lush.

Finally, Feng Luzi strictly prohibited overgrazing, rotated the use of pastures to ensure that the pastures had a chance to rest and recuperate, and solved the problem of horse feed at its root.

After all this is done, all that's left is to wait for the horses to breed generation after generation. This process is very long, but there's no other way. Breeding, like drying ship timber, requires following every step of the proper procedure.

……

The war in 1596 was exceptionally difficult for the Japanese army on the Korean Peninsula.

Due to the attacks on the rear supply lines by Shirano's navy, the Japanese forces on the Korean Peninsula were increasingly mired in difficulties.

With insufficient supplies, disrupted logistics, and no reinforcements arriving, coupled with several minor defeats in their clashes with the Ming army, the various daimyo of the Japanese army stationed in Korea had completely lost confidence in the war. Many of them began to dawdle while simultaneously harassing the people of the Korean Peninsula to maintain order within their troops.

Almost all the Japanese daimyo had lost hope for the upcoming Korean War, except for Taiko, who was far away in the East...

On the 18th day of the eighth month of the third year of Keicho, Fushimi Castle was shrouded in a heavy autumn chill and deathly silence.

This once magnificent castle, built at the cost of countless lives, with its vermilion pillars and gilded roof tiles, once exuded the majesty of a supreme ruler. But now, the entire city is permeated with the lingering smell of medicine and the aura of death. The palace paths are devoid of the usual cheerful laughter and chatter. Samurai and maids walk with their heads bowed, barely breathing, lest they disturb Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who lies in the deepest chambers of the main castle, his life hanging by a thread.

The palace was heavily guarded, its interior and exterior imposing, yet the overwhelming sense of desolation could not be contained. The entire city awaited a predetermined yet unseen end.

On the large bed, several layers of soft brocade were laid out, and covered with a luxurious quilt embroidered with paulownia patterns. However, the Toyotomi Hideyoshi lying in it had long lost the majesty he once possessed when he unified Japan, was appointed Kanpaku, and commanded all the feudal lords.

His body was emaciated; his once slightly plump frame had shriveled up to nothing but bones, his sallow skin clinging loosely to the bones, devoid of any color. His eyes, once sharp as an eagle's and capable of seeing into people's hearts, were now tightly closed, their sockets sunken.

His breathing was extremely shallow and weak, each inhale accompanied by a faint hissing sound, his chest rising and falling slightly, as if he had exhausted all his strength.

On either side of the hall, the five elders—Tokugawa Ieyasu, Maeda Toshiie, Mori Terumoto, Kobayakawa Hideaki, and Uesugi Kagekatsu—stood bowed, their expressions solemn, barely daring to breathe. These five were all influential daimyo of their time, wielding considerable military power and wielding immense influence, yet at this moment, they had all concealed their arrogance, standing silently with their heads bowed, awaiting Hideyoshi's final words. The hall was eerily quiet, save for the crackling of the candlelight and Hideyoshi's intermittent breathing, weaving together a dirge of despair.

After an unknown amount of time, Toyotomi Hideyoshi on the bed suddenly stirred slightly, his tightly closed eyes opening with great difficulty. Those eyes had long lost their former brilliance, becoming cloudy and unfocused, as he laboriously scanned the people in the hall, finally managing to focus after a long while. His lips moved, emitting a sound so faint it was almost inaudible:

"Hideyori...my son..."

Asai Chacha quickly carried Toyotomi Hideyori forward and gently placed the child's tiny hand in Hideyoshi's palm. Feeling the tender warmth of his young son, a single, cloudy tear slowly welled in Hideyoshi's eye and slid down his gaunt cheek.

His life began as a poor foot soldier in Owari, and after decades of bloody battles, he defeated rival warlords, ended the century-long Warring States period, unified Japan, built Osaka and Fushimi Castles, was granted the title of Taiko, and wielded immense power and glory. Yet, in the end, his greatest worry was for his young heir, the Toyotomi empire he had built with his own hands.

For the sake of this young son, he deposed and killed his most trusted adopted son, Toyotomi Hidetsugu, launched an invasion of Korea, and built the strongest military fortress of the entire Sengoku period: Osaka Castle.

At this moment, his gaze slowly turned to the five elders in the hall, each turn requiring immense mental effort. Seeing this, Tokugawa Ieyasu and the others stepped forward, leaning close to the bed, and listened attentively to the Taiko's instructions.

Hideyoshi took a deep breath, his breath growing weaker, yet he still forced himself to speak, each word deliberate and clear, his voice soft yet carrying an undeniable authority:

"Gentlemen... the Five Elders... I... have little time left... Hideyori... is too young... to govern... Today... I entrust my son... and the entire Toyotomi Empire... entirely to you..."

Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly coughed violently, his chest heaving, and a trace of dark red blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Everyone's expression changed drastically upon seeing this, but no one dared to make a move. Ningning quickly patted his back gently, and after a long while, Hideyoshi gradually calmed down, but his face was even paler, and he was barely breathing.

"I... I beg you all..." He looked at the five elders, his eyes filled with earnestness and entrustment, "You must... work together... to assist Hideyori... to protect the Toyotomi state... You must not... have any disloyalty... You must not betray the efforts of my life... When Hideyori comes of age... you all... wholeheartedly assist him... to stabilize the realm..."

At this point, his gaze fixed intently on the crowd, carrying a final, intimidating air. Tokugawa Ieyasu, Maeda Toshiie, and the others immediately bowed and kowtowed, responding in unison, "We, your subjects, will obey Your Majesty's dying wish, swearing to serve our young lord to the death and protect the Toyotomi realm, and daring not to harbor the slightest disloyalty!"

As Toyotomi Hideyoshi listened to the promises of the crowd, his tense expression eased slightly, and the intimidation in his eyes gradually faded, leaving only endless exhaustion and relief.

He nodded slightly, his gaze returning to his youngest son, Hideyori. His lips trembled slightly as he murmured to himself, "I wish... to see... my empire one more time... but alas... Heaven has not granted me my life..."