Volume One, Chapter Seventeen: The Ambush

About a hundred miles from Yingtian, along a mountain path—

The journey back was unhurried. Zhu Biao and Zhu Ru sat leisurely in a government-provided carriage, moving at a relaxed pace.

Inside the carriage, Zhu Biao sat in the center, deeply engrossed in a book held firmly in his hands.

Beside him, Zhu Ru reclined lazily against the soft cushions, slowly savoring wild loquats he had picked along the way, humming a folk tune from a future era.

It was the very picture of ease and grace.

Having finished the handful of loquats, Zhu Ru wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe and reached for a peach. Just as he was about to take a bite, he noticed Zhu Biao staring intently at him.

Puzzled by his brother’s gaze, Zhu Ru glanced down at himself—nothing amiss, surely?

Still uncertain, he offered the peach to Zhu Biao: “Big brother, why don’t you try some too?”

“Alright,” Zhu Biao replied with a smile. “You’ve been eating all along, and it’s made me hungry. Perfect timing.” He gratefully accepted the peach and began to eat. Yes, his younger brother was indeed useful.

Zhu Ru exhaled in relief and shot Zhu Biao a silent look. “Big brother, you could have just said so. Your intense stare made me wonder what was wrong.”

“I was just seeing if you had any sense of discipline. Seems my years raising you weren’t in vain,” Zhu Biao said with satisfaction, nodding as if witnessing his son’s coming of age.

“Brother, I—”

Before Zhu Ru could finish, the carriage suddenly jolted violently.

They were barely a hundred miles from Yingtian Prefecture when shadows began to stir outside. Shouts of battle echoed in the distance.

Zhu Ru snapped upright. How could they encounter danger just before reaching Yingtian? Surely fate wouldn’t be so cruel.

Without hesitation, he called out, “Qin Yi, what’s happening outside?”

“Your Highness, a band of armed brigands has surrounded us. They don’t look like soldiers of the Ming; their speech is a strange, chattering tongue,” Qin Yi replied hurriedly from outside.

“The advance scouts of the Embroidered Uniform Guard up ahead—I'm afraid they have met with disaster. Some of these brigands are even wielding blades belonging to the Embroidered Uniform Guard,” Qin Yi added anxiously.

“Not from Ming? Scouts from the grasslands? That can’t be,” Zhu Ru muttered under his breath.

Turning to Zhu Biao, he instructed firmly, “Big brother, no matter what happens, do not leave the carriage. Stay safe inside and trust me. Remember, you are the Crown Prince of Ming; you must not be harmed.”

With that, Zhu Ru donned armor within the carriage, grasped his sword, and charged out.

Behind him, Zhu Biao called out loudly, “Second brother, do not be reckless. Be careful. Mother waits for our safe return!”

“Don’t worry, big brother! As long as we hold out a while longer, the Qin King’s Guard will arrive soon!”

Zhu Ru burst from the carriage, seeing that the area was already surrounded and protected by the Eastern Palace Imperial Guards. Outside them, hundreds of ragged figures brandished weapons, shouting in a language Zhu Ru recognized from future films—Japanese.

So, damn it, they were a band of Wokou pirates. Good heavens, these vermin had never come looking for him in his life, yet here they were daring to ambush him. They were courting death!

Zhu Ru cursed inwardly at the brigands. Yet their presence here was odd.

Wokou marauders along the coast were common enough, but this was nearly at Yingtian. Someone must be stirring up trouble.

His gaze fixed toward Yingtian, a fierce killing intent sparkled in his eyes.

Just you wait—dare lay a hand on my brother, and you’ll regret it.

He didn’t linger on thoughts. Their Imperial Guards numbered less than a hundred, while the Wokou were hundreds strong. The situation was grim.

Though battle-hardened, their guards could not match the sheer numbers of these seasoned pirates, survivors of countless skirmishes.

The Ming army had tried repeatedly to root out the Wokou, yet none were without formidable skill.

The enemy held their ground but did not attack—clearly aiming for the Crown Prince Zhu Biao himself.

If the great Crown Prince of Ming were captured alive by brigands, it would be a humiliating scandal, shattering the emperor’s dignity and the throne’s authority.

Standing proudly atop the carriage, sword in hand, Zhu Ru raised his blade and shouted sternly, “Those among you who understand Han speech, step forward and speak!”

At that moment, a man clad in fine armor rode forward on a towering steed, eyes blazing as he fixed Zhu Ru with a piercing gaze.

Though the man’s appearance was repulsive, he wielded a sword belonging to the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Suppressing his anger, Zhu Ru demanded, “Who are you, and why do you attack us?”

“And who are you?” the stranger retorted coldly.

“I am Zhu Ru, Prince Qin of Ming, son of Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang, and commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard—the very unit your sword belongs to!”

“Prince Qin of Ming? Ha! Looks like we’re about to make a fortune!” The leader laughed heartily, excitement and greed shining in his eyes.

“I am Fujiwara Musashi. Young one, you shall fall into my hands. Remember my name well!” Fujiwara jeered arrogantly, brimming with insolence.

“Hmph! Words are useless, Fujiwara. You’re nothing but a mere lackey from a tiny land. If I, Zhu Ru, survive this day, I vow to trample your Wokou homeland, revel in cherry blossoms, and annihilate your tribe!” Zhu Ru declared fiercely, his anger burning with the indignation of past and present lives—for the people of Yingtian, for the sons of China.

In short, his spirit surged with unyielding resolve.

“Then let’s settle it on the battlefield. As the Ming say, the old ginger is always the hottest! Young one, prepare to be captured! Don’t think you can delay any longer. Today, neither of you will escape!”

“Heh, that’s not for you to decide! Ming’s armies fight to the death without retreat! The sun, the moon, the mountains, and rivers endure; so shall the Ming realm!”

With a roar, Zhu Ru leapt onto his horse. From his bosom, he produced a small jar with a string attached. Tugging the string sharply, there came a “whizz!”

A signal flare soared into the sky. With a thunderous boom, it exploded overhead, casting a red glow that shimmered like a guiding light in the distance.

A perceptive Wokou near the leader’s side paled and hurriedly spoke in rapid Japanese, causing the leader’s expression to darken. “Korosu!”

(“Korosu” meaning “kill” in Japanese.)

“Korosu!” The Wokou roared in unison, brandishing their weapons as they surged forward.

“Brothers, follow me and kill! One life taken earns a reward of one hundred taels of silver!” Zhu Ru led the charge, plunging fearlessly into the enemy ranks.

“Long live the Ming! Kill!!!”