I was to be executed by Zhu Yuanzhang, and Empress Ma smashed Zhu Yuanzhang's jade seal.

A vast expanse of snow fell in June.

He can silence the court officials and deceive the people of the world.

But he cannot deceive the heavens and the people, nor can he hide the truth of heaven and the hearts of men!

The snow fell heavier and heavier.

What started as a few scattered snowflakes turned into a heavy, downpour.

A blanket of white swept in, covering the entire city of Jinling in a pristine white.

The vermilion palace walls were covered in white snow.

The glazed tile roof of the palace was covered with white snow.

The painted boats along the Qinhuai River were also covered in snow.

In just a quarter of an hour, the entire bustling capital city was transformed into a frozen, snow-covered northern world.

Between heaven and earth, only vastness remains.

On the long street, the funeral procession continued to move slowly forward.

The pure white ceremonial guards blended seamlessly with the blanket of white snow.

Only the black coffin and the fluttering Black Bird King Banner stood out starkly in this pure white world, conveying a profound sense of sorrow.

Behind the coffin, a corner of the curtain of the phoenix carriage was gently lifted by a pale white hand.

Empress Ma's pale, bloodless face came into everyone's view.

She didn't cry, nor did she show any expression.

She simply watched quietly as the heavy snow fell outside the window for her son, and as the city was draped in white for him.

She reached out and caught a snowflake.

The snowflakes melted quickly in her palm.

The cold touch brought a long-lost comfort to her already dead heart.

Mu Ying.

My son.

Did you see that?

I'm crying for you today.

This place is mourning for you.

Mother, I will definitely get justice for you.

……

On the city tower of Chengtian Gate, Zhu Yuanzhang was supported by Jiang Huan and Mao Xiang on either side to prevent him from collapsing.

Looking at the magnificent scene of thousands of people kneeling in worship and soldiers bowing their heads below the city, he felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his heart tightly, causing him so much pain that he could hardly breathe.

He didn't understand.

He really couldn't understand it.

Why?

Why is that?

He, Zhu Yuanzhang, was the true Son of Heaven, the supreme ruler!

He swept away all rival warlords, drove out the Mongol Yuan dynasty, and single-handedly established the glorious Ming dynasty!

He gave those displaced people a place to settle down and make a living.

He helped the Han people, who had suffered so much oppression, to stand tall again.

He asked himself, "Have I done right by this country and this nation?"

But why did he end up being abandoned by everyone, even by God?

Just because he killed his son?

A son whose achievements overshadowed the emperor's, who held considerable military power, and who could threaten his imperial authority at any moment!

Was he wrong?

As the ruler of a country, isn't it only natural for him to kill a threatening son in order to consolidate his imperial power and ensure the long-term succession of the country?

Why don't these people understand him?

Why did his wife, his brothers, his ministers, and even the people of the city all stand against him?

Did they not know that once the regional kings became too powerful, the world would inevitably descend into chaos?

Have they forgotten the lessons of the previous dynasty?

Was I wrong?

"As an emperor!"

Is this wrong?

Xu Da!

Blue jade.

Just you wait!

If we get through this, we'll still be around.

We'll wipe you all out!

I, Zhu Yuanzhang!

no sooner said than done!

Even if you are heroes, so what?

You deserve to die!

Everyone was deceived by that rebellious son, Zhu Muying!

"Your Majesty...Your Majesty, the snow is too heavy, let's...let's go back to the palace..." Jiang Huan said cautiously, looking at Zhu Yuanzhang's pale face.

Just then.

"Boom—!"

A series of deep, thunderous hoofbeats suddenly resounded from both sides of the long street.

The sound pierced through the wind and snow, causing the earth to tremble slightly.

The people who had been peeking from behind doors and windows on both sides of the street were startled and quickly withdrew their heads.

They thought that the soldiers were coming to clear the area.

However, the next second, they witnessed a scene they would never forget.

Squads of cavalrymen, clad in heavy black armor and with long swords with ring pommels at their waists, emerged from all directions of the alleys as if they had sprung up from the ground.

Their armor was black.

Their warhorses were black.

The flags they held high were also black.

Tens of thousands of black cavalrymen converged into a black torrent of steel, instantly occupying both sides of the long street.

They made no sound or any unnecessary movements.

They stood silently on both sides of the street, forming a black, insurmountable wall.

They firmly protected the white funeral procession in the middle.

Black iron armor against white snowflakes.

Black warhorses against white streets.

Black flags against a white sky.

These two most extreme and pure colors, at this moment, formed a powerful contrast that was both magnificent and tragic.

A cold and chilling aura of iron and blood surged into the sky, merging with the mournful song of heaven and earth.

"It's...it's the Beijing Garrison!"

"They are the personal guards of Xu Da, the Duke of Wei!"

Those who knew their stuff recognized the origins of these cavalrymen and couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

Everyone's heart was in their throat.

They had no idea what this army, representing the strongest fighting force of the Ming Dynasty, was up to when it suddenly appeared here.

Are they here on the emperor's orders to stop this "treasonous" funeral?

However, what happened next left everyone wide-eyed.

The tens of thousands of black-armored knights, led by their commander, dismounted in unison.

Then, they knelt on one knee and lowered their proud heads.

They didn't speak, nor did they look at anyone.

Their gazes were all fixed on the black coffin.

That was the highest and most profound respect that soldiers could give to their commander.

They were bidding farewell to the God of War of the Ming Dynasty!

Upon seeing this, Zhu Yuanzhang, who was on the city wall, swayed and almost fell to the ground.

Jiang Huan and Mao Xiang, who were behind him, quickly supported him from both sides.

Along the ten-mile-long street, tens of thousands of people knelt in worship.

Amidst the wind and snow, only the mournful cries and the heavy tolling of the funeral bells echoed through the heavens and earth.

The snow that fell in June washed away the splendor of Nanjing, but it could not wash away the suspicion and guilt in the emperor's heart.

Ten thousand people knelt in worship for miles around, covering the grass and trees of the entire mountain and river.

But it cannot overshadow the young general's lifelong loyalty and heroic deeds, and the tragic injustice he suffered.

The wind and snow intensified, sounding like weeping and lamenting.

The ten-mile-long street was covered in snow, and the people bowed their heads, their black armor forming a mountain.

The snow is still falling.

The black iron cavalry remained as imposing as a mountain.

Empress Ma stepped down from the imperial carriage without being helped.

She walked step by step to the black coffin.

She reached out and gently stroked the cold coffin...

Her son was lying inside.