Great Ming: A Walaqi Exchange Student? No, I’m His Dad

In the fourteenth year of the Zhengtong era, Zhu Qizhen opened his eyes on the imperial throne.

No, that wasn't right. It was his father, Zhu Zhanji, opening his eyes inside his son's body.

Before him, an old eunuch knelt and wept. Beside him stood Wang Zhen, urging him to lead a campaign in person. To the north, Esen's Oirat army was poised like a pack of wolves.

He had been dead for fourteen years. He had no idea how this mess had been allowed to accumulate, but he recognized the young face in the mirror, and the frivolity and impulsiveness that could bring it all crashing down at a touch.

That foolish son would let Wang Zhen lead him around, march two hundred thousand troops into the grasslands, get surrounded by Esen, and end up a captive, mocked as the “Oirat exchange student.”

He was back. That wasn't going to happen.

Yu Qian would defend the city. Wang Zhen would die. The Oirats would never break through.

As for the remnant soul of his foolish son, trapped deep inside this body... they would deal with that later.

Dad's here. You're not getting yourself killed on my watch.