The Oirat army had besieged Datong for nearly ten days. Grand Preceptor Toghon sat in the central command tent, his brow deeply furrowed. Though he had personally directed the assault and launched fierce offensives, Datong's walls remained unbreached—the defenders tenacious, the city formidable. What agitated him more than the stalemate was the steadily worsening morale within his ranks. Complaints surged—supplies were running low.
His hawk-like eyes swept across the assembled generals in the tent. Not one dared to meet his gaze. They had once believed that invading Ming during its mourning period would be a swift and profitable campaign. Yet now, they found themselves bogged down beneath an immovable city wall.
"Where is the supply convoy?" Toghon asked, his voice tinged with fury. "Any word from the elite unit sent to Xuānfǔ?"
Just then, a scout burst into the tent, tumbling to his knees, his voice shrill and trembling: "Report! Grand Preceptor! Disaster! Our supply convoy at Blackwater Valley… was ambushed—ambushed by Ming forces! All the grain… it's all been burned!"
"What?!" Toghon shot to his feet, face ashen, eyes bulging. Blackwater Valley—the vital artery for supplies from the steppe!
"Where did the ambushers come from? How many were there?" he barked.
The scout stammered: "The wounded who made it back said… it was Ming troops from Xuānfǔ! They… they came from the northern mountain path, like soldiers falling from the sky. Our entire convoy… completely destroyed!"
Zhang Fu! A flicker of disbelief flashed in Toghon's eyes. Wasn't Zhang Fu tied down with him at Datong? How did he circle around and cut off the rear? And that speed—it was inhuman!
"Bastards!" Toghon roared, slamming his fist on the table so hard the teacups jumped. He understood perfectly: with the supply line severed, his army of 100,000 was doomed. Trapped beneath the city walls with no food—there was only death ahead.
Far away in the imperial headquarters at the capital, Li Ming listened quietly to Wang Zhen's report.
"Your Highness, Commander Zhang Fu of Xuānfǔ reports: the Oirat supply convoy has been destroyed! Their main camp is in total disarray, and some smaller units have already begun to flee!"
Li Ming's lips curved into a cold, amused smile.
"Fish in a barrel," he murmured. "Time to close the net."
His eyes gleamed, and he immediately issued the final assault orders:
"Issue my command! Instruct the commander of Datong to lead his troops out of the city at once. Engage the Oirats head-on—not for a prolonged battle, but to sow chaos!"
"Zhang Fu is to take elite cavalry and launch a flanking assault from the Oirat's side. Sever them in half!"
"The Huáilái garrison will encircle from the rear, cutting off all escape routes. We close the trap completely!"
Three commands—like a vast, seamless net—instantly descended upon Toghon's 100,000-strong force!
Outside Datong, within the Oirat encampment.
Toghon was in a frenzy. He knew that retreat was now the only option. If they delayed, the entire army would be annihilated. But just as he issued the order to withdraw, the gates of Datong suddenly flung open, and Ming soldiers surged forth like a flood. Though few in number, they fought with fearless ferocity, plunging directly into the Oirat front lines and locking them in place.
"Damn it! Why are the Ming so suicidal?!" Toghon roared in frustration.
What he didn't realize was that this was Li Ming's "choking tactic." While the Oirats struggled to reorganize and fend off the surprise sortie from the city, a thunderous roar erupted from their flank and rear.
"Attack! Long live the Great Ming!"
Zhang Fu, leading the Xuānfǔ cavalry, slashed into the Oirat side like a dagger, fast and unexpected. The Oirats had no time to react. At the same time, Huáilái's troops struck from behind, completely cutting off the retreat.
No food. Shattered morale. Surrounded front and back. The Oirat army collapsed in an instant.
Toghon's eyes were bloodshot with fury. He tried to rally a counterattack, but his forces were like a landslide—once broken, impossible to stop. His men ignored his commands and fled in blind panic.
"No… no! This can't be happening!" Toghon let out a howl of despair. Never before had he suffered such a humiliating, suffocating defeat.
The Ming soldiers, on the other hand, were riding high on momentum. They watched with righteous satisfaction as the once-arrogant Oirats crumbled into chaos, a visceral and bloody revenge for the invasion.
The battle raged from dawn until dusk. Of Toghon's 100,000 soldiers, fewer than 20,000 managed to escape back to the steppe. Toghon himself only survived thanks to the desperate protection of his personal guard.
It was a complete Ming victory—one that shocked the entire world.
When the report reached the capital, the imperial camp erupted in celebration.
Zhu Gaochi personally entered Li Ming's tent. Seeing his "frail" son still in bed, his eyes filled with emotion and pride.
"Zhanji! A great victory! A glorious victory! Toghon's army, 100,000 strong, has been utterly destroyed by our forces! You… you truly are the blessing of the Ming dynasty!"
Zhu was nearly incoherent with joy. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that such a large-scale triumph would be masterminded by his sickly son from so far away.
Li Ming struggled to sit up, eyes filled with "fatigue" and "relief."
"It is thanks to Father's wisdom, and the valor of Ming's soldiers. This son merely did what little he could."
The more modest he was, the more Zhu Gaochi loved and valued him.
Soon after, Zhang Fu and other generals came to pay respects. When they saw Li Ming, there was no longer any doubt in their eyes—only deep reverence and submission.
Zhang Fu knelt at the bedside, tears streaming down his weathered face.
"Your Highness, your divine foresight has left this humble general in awe. If not for your advance warning, and your godlike strategy to sever the enemy's supplies, the northern border might have been lost. Your Highness, this general offers you my deepest bow!"
As he spoke, he prepared to perform a formal obeisance.
Li Ming weakly raised his hand to stop him. His gaze swept across the gathered commanders, steady and penetrating.
"You are all the backbone of Ming. This was a victory won by united will. But I ask you all—never forget what loyalty means. Never forget what duty demands. Let today's Oirats serve as tomorrow's warning."
His tone was calm, but the hidden weight and warning in his words made every general's heart tremble. They understood now—this "ailing dragon" of a crown prince wasn't just a brilliant strategist. He was also a master at bending hearts and quelling ambition.
After this battle, Li Ming's authority within the military reached unprecedented heights. Though he was still officially "Crown Prince Regent," the army now only recognized his command.
As Li Ming looked upon the once-defiant generals he had now brought to heel, a subtle smile formed on his lips—one only he could fully understand.
The reins of military power were now firmly in his grasp.
The future of the Ming Empire was his to command.
And this… was only the first step on his path to conquer all realms.