The two men, their minds in accord, immediately put their plan into action. They had the main road cut and twenty-four breaches dug along a two-mile stretch. Massive stones were then moved to block the path. By dawn, the road was rendered impassable. Not only were donkey carts unable to pass, but even walking would require considerable effort.
Both men personally helped with the digging, their bodies already slick with sweat. Mu Chaobi looked at the sky, which was beginning to lighten. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he said,
"Zixuan, tell me honestly, how many firearms and cannons does our Great Ming arsenal have? Since you're here, why didn't you bring more?"
Zhu Mo had some deeper thoughts on this question.
He had seen too many Great Ming novels that favored brute force over refinement, feeling they lacked technical depth and were fundamentally unreasonable. How could there be technological progress divorced from a realistic foundation? Novels that depicted invincibility with Maxim guns, for instance, were utterly thoughtless.
It was crucial to understand that a firearm was part of an entire system. Unless it was taken from such a system, it was impossible to manufacture. Each part and material was incredibly difficult to mass-produce in a small workshop. Even with blueprints, it would be impossible for the iron foundries and arsenals of the Jiajing era to create them.
The system of imperial civilization was good precisely for this reason. To be precise, it was only 15-20 years ahead of Europe, and this was achievable because the Great Ming had a foundation. He recalled that back at the arsenal, Li Huai and Zhao Shizhen had already developed high-combustion gunpowder and flintlock mechanisms. What was lacking was merely a concept for integration. Europe was in a similar situation, with everything in place, waiting for the opportune moment.
Furthermore,
Zhu Mo believed that true greatness lay in societal change. History was never just about technology; it was about who used it and for what purpose. For example, while everyone enjoyed conquest, how many had considered its consequences? It could cause severe disasters both internally and externally, leading to a rapid regression of society, rendering it beyond repair.
With this thought,
He smiled and said,
"Your Grace, the arsenal can produce a few hundred firearms a month... but that's not the most important thing... Your Grace, imagine if I had brought three to five thousand musketeers this time, what would that achieve? Even if we conquered Bogu City to the south, what then? Zhuge Liang's seven captures and seven releases were the fundamental way. Couldn't the Grand Founder have pacified Burma in his time? Why did he stop at Ava and retreat to Kengtung?"
Mu Chaobi thought for a moment, then suddenly laughed,
"There's logic to that! True kingship naturally brings eternal peace... Zixuan, let me ask you another question. You can answer it or not, uh..."
He asked, seemingly casually yet with deep meaning,
"Zixuan, who exactly are you?"
As soon as the words left his lips, the smile vanished from his eyes. Two points of cold starlight, deep and penetrating, fixed on Zhu Mo.
"Heh, what does Your Grace think?"
Zhu Mo countered.
Mu Chaobi thought: If you weren't a Zhu, then trouble would surely arise sooner or later... With these reforms you're making, aren't you digging up the roots of the Zhu family? The enfeoffed nobles are one thing, but what about the princely states? Would they let you off the hook, and who would protect you then?
With this thought,
He suddenly said,
"Zixuan, do you have a grudge against the old Zhu family?"
Hiss!
This?
Zhu Mo looked at him, genuinely startled, and asked sincerely, "Your Grace, do you really think so?"
Mu Chaobi did not relax his scrutiny and pressed,
"I've heard about your reforms for some time. To be frank, many people in my household procure goods from Jiangnan, and whenever they return, they bring fresh news... At first, I thought it was all for the good, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed wrong... Zhu Mo, nothing you've done has pleased anyone. What are you doing this for? Have you truly forgotten how you were almost torn apart by Gao Gong and Yan Shifan last time?"
Hahaha,
Zhu Mo genuinely laughed.
"Your Grace, you truly don't understand... Let me ask you a question: the Grand Founder had already ascended the dragon throne, why did he have to offend the scholars and gentry of the entire realm? If you understand this question, you will understand me..."
Hmph!
Mu Chaobi's expression suddenly changed, and he said,
"You're truly comparing yourself to the Grand Founder?"
Zhu Mo replied, "Naturally, I cannot compare, but the sentiment is the same... Whether you believe it or not, since I am walking this earth, I want to do these things, and that is all..."
Mu Chaobi stared at him for a long time, then suddenly smiled,
"That's true... Everyone has their own aspirations. The same grain feeds a hundred different people. Who can stop others from doing what they intend? Zhu Mo, do you understand people like us? Hmm...?"
Zhu Mo shook his head.
Mu Chaobi sighed, "People like us, no matter how deep our enmities, once we're on the battlefield, we're brothers in life and death..."
He stopped speaking at this point.
Zhu Mo immediately understood that his next words would likely be: off the battlefield, the grudges remain just as clear...
"Your Grace, I understand."
Mu Chaobi stared at him for a while longer, the coldness in his eyes deepening. He nodded and sighed,
"Let's all get some rest. We don't know how long this battle will last."
...
Mu Chaobi's prediction was correct.
This war of attrition actually lasted for eleven days!
Mang Yinglong was indeed capable. For the next four to five days, he had soldiers carry large logs to lay on the main road, covering them with earth. They managed to advance within firing range. On the fourth day, from dusk till dawn, cannon fire roared incessantly, and the fortress tower of You Dian was half-destroyed.
Zhu Mo and Mu Chaobi climbed the flanking mountains via a small path. They dislodged rocks and trees, barely repelling this wave of Burmese attack. By the time the rocks rolled down, the Burmese soldiers were already within a few hundred meters of the pass.
But then,
From the sixth to the ninth day, for three and a half days, Mang Yinglong personally led the charge, and dispatched sappers to maneuver around the mountain from behind, attacking from both sides. The fortress city nearly fell. It was again Zhu Mo's musketeers who held the line.
In the final offensive, Mang Yinglong managed to push artillery to the mountaintop and bombard them for three hours. The Ming army, while defending against the frontal assault, also had to guard against the mountain artillery. Casualties were extremely heavy. Most of He An's men were wounded. If the volunteers hadn't poured out from Shunning City, the fortress would have fallen.
On the eleventh night,
Zhu Mo slept beneath the half-collapsed fortress tower, completely exhausted. In a daze, he felt as if he had returned to his old Daoist temple, when his consciousness had just begun to awaken, and he felt a mixture of novelty and sorrow towards the Great Ming dynasty before him...
He remembered when he was very young, all he recalled was a vast river, boundless and immense. A hand held him, leading him through countless bustling markets, villages, and wilderness... No matter how much his feet ached, they had to keep walking, as if fleeing from something, or perhaps searching for something...
As he grew older, he remembered a person called Master, and he followed him daily, selling medicine, telling fortunes, practicing feng shui, and exorcising ghosts on the streets...
Slowly, he remembered being in the mountains, in two or three dilapidated, low-lying houses, where he wouldn't see anyone for a very long time. In the backyard, there were many peach trees, a pond, and a yellow dog, some geese... In winter, the heavy snow threatened to collapse the houses...
And at this moment,
In his daze, he seemed to see the roof creaking, as if about to collapse.
He suddenly broke out in a cold sweat and cried out—
"The house has collapsed..."
Hiss!
He suddenly opened his eyes. He saw broken walls and ruins, illuminated by the cold, solitary moon!
"Where am I..."
In his haze, he suddenly didn't know which world he was in. Before him, he saw many people cheering and leaping, their voices like a tidal wave that almost deafened him...
After an unknown amount of time, a figure walked over and shouted,
"Zixuan, Mang Yinglong has withdrawn his troops!"
Zhu Mo, extremely weak, rubbed his eyes vigorously before he could clearly see that the person before him was Li Zhi!
At this moment,
Li Zhi, with a strange excitement on his face, shouted,
"Zixuan! We won! Xian Gui has defected again. His men told us across the river that the Franks were defeated by the Ming navy in the South China Sea. The two sides have reached a truce, and the Franks have ordered Mang Yinglong to withdraw immediately and never to invade Great Ming again! Zixuan, hahaha... We really won!"
Zhu Mo sprang up, climbed onto the ruined fortress tower, and looked into the distance. In the desolate moonlight, he saw a long dragon gradually receding along the distant mountain path.
Mu Chaobi appeared at some unknown time. His bloodshot eyes held an expression of profound complexity. He stared intently at Zhu Mo for a while, then suddenly said in a deep voice,
"Pursue?"
En,
"Pursue!"