Ji Gang reminded Mu Chun not to disgrace his surname.

Enveloped by fear, Mu Chun blurted out: “What’s so great about the surname Mu?”

Ji Gang said: “You’re just a minor soldier, yet His Majesty made you Roving General and sent us thousands of li to Jiangxi to suppress bandits – why? Isn’t it so when Marquis Xiping requests the heir apparent title for you in the future, your record will look better? This mission exists because your surname is Mu.”

Mu Chun spat. “I came to suppress bandits to avenge Sister Shanwei. My father is biased – he won’t request the heir apparent title just because I suppressed some bandits. He’d be delighted if I failed.”

“Hu Mei’s rebels want to kidnap you as hostage. They won’t kill you, but us—” Ji Gang pointed at himself, then at the recruited bandits drinking and celebrating at the feast. “We’re all your subordinates. If you surrender, we’ll all die.”

Ji Gang didn’t want to die. Fair-skinned, long-legged, and clever, he didn’t want to die pointlessly in a bandit stronghold with no value – if he had to die, it should be for Commander Mao. Mu Chun wasn’t worth his life.

Mu Chun spat again. “Who said anything about surrendering? Now the tunnels are blown up too – there’s no way to escape. We have a thousand, they have ten thousand – ten to one odds. They’re a well-trained army, not rabble like mountain bandits. A direct confrontation would be like eggs hitting rocks. I need to think of a solution.”

Ji Gang said: “Think quickly! The rebels are about to attack.”

Mu Chun paced irritably, rubbing his head: “Don’t rush me – I’m not Zhuge Liang!”

Suddenly, Mu Chun’s mind flashed with inspiration. Ji Gang was delighted: “General Mu has a plan?”

Mu Chun said: “Call the hundred reinforcements Duke Song sent.”

The reinforcements were all former subordinates of the Feng brothers. Mu Chun got straight to the point: “Back when my grandfather and great-uncle followed His Majesty in uprising, ruling mountain strongholds, when the court sent large armies to suppress the strongholds, how did His Majesty… how did they deal with massive court forces?”

The predecessors’ experience was worth learning from. Mu Chun’s easy capture of Guaishi Ridge stronghold benefited from Emperor Hongwu’s personal instruction. But now he had become the weak “bandit” while rebels surrounded him instead – fortune’s wheel had turned.

With the situation urgent, these veteran reinforcements no longer avoided the Feng family’s “shameful past,” saying: “In ten-to-one situations like this, His Majesty would usually send people to negotiate surrender terms.”

“Of course, it was just fake surrender – the surrender agreement was waste paper. Once the Yuan army left, we’d do whatever we wanted. If they came again, we’d run and fight guerrilla warfare.”

Mu Chun asked: “The Yuan army was that easily fooled? When you deceived them, weren’t they furious and determined to destroy you?”

The old soldiers laughed heartily. “Young General Mu, in that chaotic era, almost everyone was a bandit. When Yuan forces suppressed one area, bandits would rise elsewhere – it was like whack-a-mole. The Yuan army was exhausted from running around and had already lost control of Jiangnan – they couldn’t be bothered with us.”

So the ancestors’ experience was useless here – because Hu Mei’s rebels were determined to kill the Embroidered Uniform Guards for revenge, leaving no room for negotiation.

What to do?

Mu Chun stood on the watchtower, looking at the scattered torches below. Hu Mei’s ten thousand rebels were like the Milky Way’s stars, surrounding Guaishi Ridge stronghold, waiting for dawn to attack.

Can’t win, can’t escape, can’t negotiate – what to do?

On Guaishi Ridge’s summer night, mosquitoes hummed funeral songs in his ears. Mu Chun, irritated and restless, slapped himself, killing a mosquito.

Looking at the flattened mosquito corpse in his palm and the puddle of blood mixed with the insect remains, the so-called noble blood combining Feng and Mu families could die in battle but not surrender.

If he became a rebel hostage and barely survived, he’d never be able to hold his head high again, becoming the shared shame of both Feng and Mu families, forever nailed to the pillar of disgrace.

But dying like this left him unwilling. He was only seventeen – he hadn’t lived enough yet.

Moreover, if he died, the jade hairpin repaired with gold by jewelry craftsmen would never reach Sister Shanwei, nor would anyone tell her that her fiancé Wang Ning was still alive.

Sister Shanwei was also someone abandoned by the whole world – besides me, who cares about her?

A northern wind blew, dispelling the heat and bringing Mu Chun a trace of coolness. The desire to survive forced his mind to clear. Standing atop the watchtower, he looked down over the earth, seeking a way to live.

This stronghold was built on Guaishi Ridge – truly living up to its name, with strange rocks standing everywhere, looking like ferocious ancient beasts in the night.

North of Guaishi Ridge stretched endless cliffs and precipices. The watchtower stood at the precipice’s peak, so the north needed no defense – unless enemies grew wings to fly up from below.

South of Guaishi Ridge’s slope was covered with lush trees and vegetation. This terrain was truly easy to defend and hard to attack – the best location for a stronghold.

But when the opponent outnumbered the stronghold ten to one and was an elite force, terrain advantage could hold for at most half an hour before being broken.

Without terrain as barrier, Mu Chun would have to either die in battle or jump off the cliff.

Mu Chun gazed at the rebels’ torches scattered like stars below the southern slope. Layers of clouds rose from the southern slope direction, moving like a giant dragon in the night with an all-devouring presence.

The wind was northern, yet clouds came from the south – south was where the Yangtze River and numerous large and small lakes lay…

Mu Chun suddenly remembered something. He performed a swallow flip and jumped straight down from the watchtower railing.

Ji Gang was startled, thinking Mu Chun was jumping to his death: “General Mu! Don’t despair – we’re not at the end of our rope!”

The hundred Feng family reinforcements and ten Mu family guards thought: Good death! Better death than surrender! Finally not disgracing your noble bloodline!

But Mu Chun jumped from the railing onto the tower’s wooden pillar, hugged the pillar, and slid down to the ground. Taking a torch, he ran to examine soil on the mountain as if searching for something.

“Found it!” Mu Chun seemed to see gold, holding up an earthworm high. “Military texts discuss weather timing – clouds moving against wind signals weather change and likely rain. Now northern winds blow, yet southern clouds move against the wind. Also, look – earthworms have emerged from the soil, also predicting heavy rain.”

Ji Gang and others were puzzled. “So what? Does General Mu plan to drown ten thousand rebels with rainwater?”

Mu Chun pointed at rebels surrounding the southern slope: “Now with northern wind, we’re upwind and they’re downwind. We can use fire attack – throw fire balls at rebel camps, shoot fire arrows, turn defense into offense.”

“The northern wind isn’t strong, and there are flammable pine trees everywhere. Using fire attack normally would burn enemies but eventually engulf the stronghold, burning us all. But tonight’s celestial signs show heavy rain coming. If the downpour arrives before the fire spreads, we’ll all survive.”

A Feng family veteran asked: “If fire burns halfway then heavy rain starts, enemies will also survive and surely charge, attacking the stronghold before dawn. How would Young General Mu respond?”

Mu Chun gently released the little earthworm, but his gaze turned cold as he drew his sword pointing toward southern slope rebels: “Ten thousand of them, half burned leaves five thousand. We fight one against five, plus terrain advantage – how could we not hold the stronghold? Besides, Nanchang has Great Ming garrison forces. When Guaishi Ridge fires start, garrison troops will surely come to our aid. Once reinforcements arrive, we’ll charge down together to kill rebels – inside and outside coordination!”

Ji Gang praised: “Brilliant plan, General Mu! This subordinate will prepare fire attack immediately.”

Mu Chun urged: “Quickly! In this weather, downpours could come anytime. Once it rains, fire attack becomes impossible.”

Ten thousand rebels surrounded the stronghold. Spies had been watching them since the Embroidered Uniform Guard landed at Jiujiang.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard attacked the stronghold, so they attacked the Embroidered Uniform Guard. The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.

Tomorrow they could avenge their master Hu Mei.

At the third watch, Mu Chun led his makeshift army of three hundred Embroidered Uniform Guards, one hundred Feng family troops, ten Mu family bodyguards, and about five hundred recruited bandits in fire attack.

Oil-soaked bedding was rolled into balls, placed in round baskets and bound with rattan into spheres, then loaded onto stronghold catapults for self-defense, ignited into fire balls. Being lightweight, bedding easily launched into rebel camps.

Fire balls fell from the sky, igniting rebel camps. Northern winds fed the flames, spreading rapidly.

The rebel leader shouted: “Stay calm! Don’t retreat! With northern winds, rear fires will only grow larger – we must charge forward!”

Indeed, charging forward was the only way out. Ten thousand rebels braved the flames, charging desperately uphill toward the stronghold.

On the watchtower, Mu Chun held the Western telescope Emperor Hongwu had given him, watching rebels black as ants breaking through flames uphill.

As they entered a certain area, Mu Chun took his grandfather’s longbow, nocked a burning arrow, drew the bow full, and released.

The fire arrow streaked like lightning across the night sky, illuminating Mu Chun’s face.

The youth’s features weren’t fully mature yet – his chin showed the blue-black stubble of facial hair just emerging. But his eyes blazed brighter than the fire arrow, his burning gaze seemingly able to melt stubborn stone.

Don’t underestimate impoverished youth, for youth will give you various “surprises.” When he truly matures, everyone must look up to him – yesterday’s grass underfoot becomes today’s towering tree.

The fire arrow from the strong bow flew two hundred meters, igniting pre-oiled forest and the rebels who had entered the area.

Rebels were swallowed by the sea of fire.

Fire ahead, fire behind – rebels were wrapped like dumplings in flames with nowhere to escape.

Mu Chun deliberately used catapults to launch fire balls farther, making rebels think charging upward meant escape. Actually, the second fire attack trap waited on the mountain, ready to catch rebels in the “fire pit” and eliminate them all.

These trapped rebels’ final consciousness before death was: Mu Chun the demon king’s reputation was well-deserved! When he went mad, he’d even burn himself!

The southern slope was full of dense vegetation, less than two hundred meters from the stronghold – it would eventually burn to the stronghold!

On the watchtower, Mu Chun carried his grandfather’s longbow with a half-worn military flag planted beside him – it had belonged to his grandfather Duke Ying Feng Guoyong during military campaigns, also the banner carried by the hundred Feng family troops.

The Feng family troops looked at the youth standing beneath the flag, dimly seeing their former master’s outline.

When Feng Guoyong died in battle, he was only thirty-six. Heaven envied talent – he was the earliest to die among Emperor Hongwu’s ten founding generals.

When he died, he left a son and daughter – Feng Shi and Feng Cheng were still minors. His daughter Feng Shi later married Mu Ying and bore Mu Chun, dying less than a month later – even shorter-lived than her father.

Because of Feng Shi’s death, the Feng and Mu families maintained surface in-law relations while harboring deep resentment.

Mu Chun’s existence constantly reminded his father Mu Ying of his terrible marriage.

And constantly reminded the Feng family that Mu Ying was a terrible son-in-law, primarily responsible for Feng Shi’s death.

Caught between them, Mu Chun grew into a demon king unloved by father and uncles…

At this moment, the not-so-strong northern wind stopped.

After the wind ceased, the fire no longer burned northward but attacked indiscriminately, spreading both south and north simultaneously.

This way, the fire would reach the stronghold in about fifteen minutes! Thick smoke had already spread into the stronghold, making the makeshift troops cover their mouths and noses with wet cloths as coughing echoed everywhere.

Panic spread through the stronghold’s makeshift army like wildfire.

The troops knelt on both knees, praying to heaven with unprecedented devotion: Rain! Please rain quickly! We’ll burn to death without rain!

Fire behind, cliff ahead – no retreat, seemingly destined to perish with the rebels.

On the watchtower, Mu Chun couldn’t stand it anymore. Unlike the troops kneeling to pray for rain, he shook his fist at the night sky and roared:

“Damn heaven! You dare deceive me! Clouds against wind, earthworms emerging and moving – these are clearly signs of downpour!”

“Rain now, damn it! If you don’t rain soon—”

Mu Chun drew his bow and shot an arrow, pulling the bow to its limit, then shooting at the night sky!

The arrow from the strong bow disappeared into thick black clouds.

Finally, thunder crashed and the ground shook. Guaishi Ridge was like an immortal crossing tribulation with lightning and thunder everywhere.

A cool drop fell on Mu Chun’s emerging youthful stubble…

The demon king’s judgment was correct. That night, heaven sent torrential rain until dawn, then turned to light rain, pattering and extinguishing the last campfire embers.

Dawn’s first light beam fell on the “Feng” character military flag atop the stronghold watchtower – why didn’t the makeshift army have a “Mu” character flag? Clearly the roving general’s surname was Mu.

Because Marquis Xiping Mu Ying was ashamed his eldest son’s first campaign was merely stronghold bandit suppression, feeling it disgraceful and unworthy of the “Mu” family name.

However, the Battle of Guaishi Ridge, ten against one, unexpectedly produced Mu Chun’s victory of few against many.

Yes, this was a proper battle suppressing rebellion, not ordinary stronghold bandit suppression.

The Feng family troops immediately felt proud, believing the Feng family had worthy successors. Truly their master’s blood grandson! They cheered: “Heroes emerge young since ancient times!”

Other makeshift troops joined the shouting: “Young hero! Young hero!”

On the watchtower, Mu Chun stayed awake all night. The demon king was praised for the first time in his life – outwardly calm but inwardly embarrassed and nervous.

Ji Gang stirred up the crowd below: “General, say a few words!”

Mu Chun shot him a glance, feigning mature composure: “Say what! Quickly make fires and cook – eat well before returning to the capital for merit rewards!”

Ji Gang continued flattering enthusiastically: “General, look – your beard has grown out. From today, you’re a man.”

Mu Chun drew his sword, using the blade as mirror, seeing his chin black with stubble. Touching it felt like sandpaper. Ji Gang wasn’t lying – people said those without facial hair couldn’t accomplish things reliably. He decided to keep the beard to look more mature and suppress these makeshift troops.

Before returning to the capital, the makeshift army stayed in Nanchang for a while, cleaning battlefields (fire sites), burying charred corpses. When the five thousand garrison troops stationed in Nanchang saw the sky-filling firelight and rushed over, the war had ended. Charred bodies covered hills and valleys like hell’s fire realm scenes – truly terrifying.

Roving General Mu Chun’s ten-to-one victory made him famous overnight. Military circles sighed: Truly no coward sons of tiger fathers.

After handling aftermath, the makeshift army returned to court. From Jiangxi to Nanjing, Mu Chun never shaved and kept his bow close – this was his grandfather Duke Ying Feng Guoyong’s relic, sent by his uncle Feng Cheng before departure.

Mu Chun felt this bow had spiritual power, bringing him luck. When he cursed heaven and shot arrows skyward, torrential rain immediately followed – more effective than praying to Buddha.

This showed that problems solvable by force shouldn’t require kneeling and begging. Even heaven and so-called destiny weren’t invincible.

The day the makeshift army returned to the capital happened to be the little princess’s full month, when the court held the hair-cutting naming ceremony.

Shang Gong Bureau’s Cui Shanggong, invited by Li Xianfei, wore celebratory robes to cut the princess’s hair. Li Xianfei, dressed according to virtuous consort standards, carefully preserved the baby hair, then displayed her consort’s ceremonial guard to go to Qianqing Palace.

Emperor Hongwu and Empress Ma, already in celebratory robes, waited in the great hall. Li Xianfei handed the swaddled imperial daughter to a wet nurse, who carefully presented her to Empress Ma. Empress Ma smilingly brought the little princess before Emperor Hongwu.

Emperor Hongwu cheerfully held the little princess’s chubby right hand: “Yuhua – her name is Zhu Yuhua.”

“Yes, truly a beautiful name.” Empress Ma accepted the decree, giving the little princess to the wet nurse, completing the naming ceremony.

The Ministry of Rites wrote Emperor Hongwu’s naming into an imperial edict. A eunuch took the edict to the inner palace to find the Shang Fu Bureau’s Seal Keeper – imperial seals were all managed by the inner palace Seal Keeper.

Female Historian Jiang Quan had been waiting here early. After Hu Shanwei’s encouragement and careful care with supplements, Jiang Quan’s injuries healed and she’d resumed her Seal Keeper duties.

Jiang Quan opened the edict, reading its contents: My daughter, your precious daughter is named Zhu Yuhua – such a beautiful name.

Jiang Quan forcibly held back surging tears and stamped Emperor Hongwu’s seal on the edict.

Only then could the edict take effect. The eunuch took it to the Ministry of Rites, which sent it to the Imperial Clan Court handling imperial family affairs.

The Imperial Clan Court’s director was Crown Prince Zhu Biao, who registered the little princess’s name in the jade genealogy under Li Xianfei’s name, formally making the little princess an imperial family member.

That day, the palace again held grand banquets celebrating the little princess’s full-month hair-cutting naming ceremony.

On the same day, Palace Administrator Fan presented the completed “Song Dynasty Virtuous Consorts’ Admonishments” to Empress Ma.

After imperial review, Empress Ma was very satisfied: “Send this book for printing – first print five hundred copies. All palace consorts, regardless of rank, receive one copy. Additionally, all imperial family ladies, princely consorts, commandery princely consorts, and princess consort families’ ladies each receive copies. Consorts’ maternal families, princely and commandery princely consorts’ maternal families all receive books to educate these imperial relatives to remain humble and self-examining, value family customs and laws, and prevent chaos like Hu Mei’s palace disturbance.”

“This servant obeys.” Palace Administrator Fan received Empress Ma’s decree.

Nearby, Cao Shanggong thought: Now Palace Administrator Fan has another chance to show authority.

With the little princess healthy and adorable at full month, Empress Ma was very pleased: “Everyone worked hard on this book compilation. All female officials participating in book editing receive rewards – Cao Shanggong.”

Cao Shanggong quickly said: “This servant is here.”

Empress Ma said: “Arrange specific rewards with Palace Administrator Fan. Book compilation is critically important – rewards cannot be meager.”

Seeing Empress Ma in good spirits, Palace Administrator Fan seized the opportunity: “Your Majesty, the library is newly built and doesn’t belong to any of the six bureaus and one office. Since the library proved crucial during canonical compilation, this servant suggests transferring library management to the Palace Administration Office. What does Your Majesty think?”

Empress Ma found nothing improper: “The six bureaus and one office each have duties. The library needs supervision, so let it be under the Palace Administration Office.”

Palace Administrator Fan was delighted. The library and Hu Shanwei now both belonged to the Palace Administration Office. Hu Shanwei was capable with a firm, composed character who could suppress others. Delivering books to teach imperial relatives’ ladies about family customs and laws – this thankless, offense-prone task could be assigned to her!