Chapter 47: Bad News—My Ancestor Has Come to Deal with Me!

Dragon robes!
A sea of dragon robes!

In the Ming Dynasty, even the crown prince could not wear a dragon robe—except for the emperor himself. Anyone else who dared would lose his head on the spot! Of course, Crown Prince Zhu Biao was the exception; when he wore the dragon robe and paraded before Zhu Yuanzhang, Old Zhu would at most ask if it fit him well.

Zhu Yuanzhang, Zhu Biao, Old Zhu Di, and Zhu the Fourth stood at the forefront. The portly Yongle Emperor, the hefty Hongxi Emperor, and their two ill-fated brothers stood to the side, with the young Zhu heirs of Yongle and Hongxi trailing behind. Zhu Youjian held back the restless Xuande Emperor, positioning himself at the very back to keep him from doing anything rash.

"Taizong Emperor!?"

The civil and military officials were utterly bewildered. Only those who had struggled up the ranks for decades—pillars of the court—had the honor of accompanying the emperor on a campaign for glory. Most present in the imperial tent were elder statesmen who had served since the Hongxi and Xuande reigns; some, like Zhang Fu, had even served through four reigns since Yongle.

Now, their faces flickered with suspicion and shock.

If they could not comprehend it, they would chalk it up to the supernatural: the present emperor was inept, so perhaps the ancestors had manifested to save the dynasty. But so many emperors? Two Taizongs, two Renzongs, three Xuanzongs—whom should they bow to first? There was no ritual for this!

"Taizong Emperor!?"
"Renzong Emperor!?"
"The Late Emperor!?"

Just a moment ago, the overbearing eunuch Wang Zhen was now shivering all over, teeth chattering with fear. He, Wang of Weizhou, had entered the palace during the Yongle reign and had been fortunate enough to meet the Yongle Emperor—an encounter etched in memory.

One of the rare four-dynasty veterans in the tent, he now stood dumbstruck by shock.

Of all present, only the God of War of Ming, Zhu Qizhen, was still confused. His father had died when he was nine; he had seen the ancestral portraits only a few times each year and could recognize none of these figures.

He felt only overwhelming rage. In the Ming Dynasty, only he could wear a dragon robe; now so many appeared in the same garb, his fury soared to the heavens.

"How dare you! You dare usurp my imperial personage!"

Zhu Qizhen, both shocked and enraged, could bear it no longer. He pounded the table and roared, "Jinyiwei! Where are you? Drag these traitors out and execute them all!"

Several guards obeyed, drawing their swords as they advanced.

"Your Majesty, you must not!"

Duke of England Zhang Fu, followed by a host of ministers, stood firmly in their way, hissing, "Sheathe your swords at once!"

"Insolence! Are you rebelling?" Zhu Qizhen's rage bristled to its peak, and he cast a pleading look at Wang Zhen. But to his terror, Wang Zhen did not, as usual, step forward in his defense. Instead, he stared wide-eyed, lips pale and quivering, unable to utter even a coherent sentence.

At that moment—

"Bastard!"

A thunderous voice shook the tent.

"You ignorant fool! How dare you raise your voice before your imperial ancestors?"

From the rear of the group strode a young emperor—Xuande Emperor Zhu Zhanji—his eyes blazing as he brandished a heavy wooden ancestral tablet.

"You!"

Zhu Qizhen recoiled in shock. That voice, that face, that familiar aura—he hadn't heard it since he was nine, but the call from his very bloodline instantly merged the blurred figure in his memory with the man before him.

"Father!?"

All his arrogance vanished. Zhu Qizhen stumbled backward and collapsed onto the dragon throne in terror. Had his words become prophecy? Was the late emperor truly standing before him? And were these others truly the manifested ancestors?

He was not exactly bright, but he wasn't a fool either. If even the late emperor, dead for fourteen years, could appear so vividly, then perhaps these others really were the imperial ancestors.

The Oirat cavalry was attacking, the situation dire; if the ancestors manifested to help, it would be a boon. Yet the more he looked, the more his heart pounded with dread—they didn't seem to be here for the Oirats, but for him!

Smack!

"Get down!"

With a roar, Xuande Emperor Zhu Zhanji raised the wooden tablet high and struck the bewildered Ming war god so hard that one side of his face swelled instantly.

He then yanked him from the throne.

"Ah!" Zhu Qizhen tumbled to the ground, crying out in pain, tears streaming down in humiliation and grievance.

How satisfying!

Within the tent, the ministers were barely able to contain their elation. They knew very well what it meant for the late emperor's spirit to drag the current one from the throne.

This was deposition!

Old, cunning Zhang Fu immediately knelt and loudly proclaimed, "Your servant welcomes the sacred spirits of Taizong Emperor Wen, Renzong Emperor, and Xuanzong Emperor!"

"Welcome to the sacred spirits of the imperial ancestors!"

Minister of War Kuang Ye followed suit. True or false, if they could not understand, let it be called supernatural; at least in this crisis, even a pig on the throne would be better than the present emperor!

"Rise," Zhu Yuanzhang commanded sternly, hands behind his back. "All of you, leave. Without our order, any who trespass in the imperial tent will be executed without mercy!"

The ministers looked up and saw that even the Yongle, Renzong, and Xuande Emperors were standing obediently behind, while only the figure in the vermilion dragon robe spoke.

Every one of them was shrewd—who could not guess that this was the Founding Emperor, Taizu Zhu Yuanzhang?

"We obey the command of the Grand Emperor Taizu!"

The civil and military officials of the Zhengtong court felt a chill in their hearts and immediately knelt in submission.

They had heard that to serve during the Hongwu reign was to forfeit one's own head; reading about it was one thing, but experiencing the Founder's majesty firsthand was another.

Truly, his imperial might was like a prison!

A swarm of officials bowed low and withdrew. Eunuch Wang, now cringing with fear, bowed deeply and followed the others out.

Zhu Youjian glanced around and called, "Wang Zhen!"

"Here!" The eunuch, trying to slip away unnoticed, replied instinctively, then broke into a cold sweat and forced a smile. "May the emperors converse at their leisure. I—I shall take my leave."

At that, all the members of the Zhu family turned their steely gazes on him. Now it was clear—this eunuch was none other than Wang Zhen, the notorious power-monger, the man who doomed two hundred thousand Ming troops and turned the northern campaign into the defense of Beijing!

Zhu Yuanzhang's lips curled into a cruel smile. "You stay!"

Wang Zhen put on a pitiful face and wailed, "I—I must answer nature's call. If I soil your august presence, I am worthy of a thousand deaths!"

Zhu Yuanzhang's face turned icy, not deigning to even glance his way. How dare this creature bargain with him?

Han Prince Zhu Gaoxu of the Yongle era hurried to offer his loyalty. Towering and burly, he stood behind Wang Zhen and clamped down on him like an iron vise. "Stay put!"

Wang Zhen glanced back and nearly fainted—another familiar face! Terrified, he dared not move, lest he further provoke these uncanny ancestors.

Every emperor present fixed their icy gaze on the Zhengtong Emperor Zhu Qizhen, the wooden tablets in their hands creaking under the pressure.

Zhu Yuanzhang, teeth clenched, growled, "To think such a descendant could disgrace our line—how can I face my old comrades from Huai Xi? Today, I will personally purge the family!"

"Mind yourselves—don't just vent your anger. Don't let him die so quickly! That would be letting the scoundrel off too easily!"

Zhu Youjian timely reminded, "Rest assured, Grand Emperor. I have miraculous medicine at hand; we can keep the Zhengtong Emperor alive."

"Excellent! Excellent!" Old Zhu's eyes gleamed, and he laughed wildly. "Beat him to within an inch of his life!"

Zhu Qizhen, sobbing on the ground, felt chills run through his body. He slowly raised his swollen face, now deathly pale, and stammered, "F—father, what do you intend to do? Please, don't—"

"Ah—!"

"You worthless wretch, not knowing your own limits! You dare to lead the imperial army?"

Zhu Yuanzhang thundered, veins bulging as he swung the wooden tablet down with all his might. Zhu Qizhen's screams pierced the skies.

…