Iron Horse and Blue Hoof

In the winter of the nineteenth year of Wanli, the outline of the Ming Empire remained as solid as a rock on the map. In the deep shadow of the Forbidden City, Wanli Emperor Zhu Yijun is sitting on the dragon chair. The emperor, who had ruled a huge empire for twenty years, was looking coldly at the urgent report about Ningxia Town in the northwest. The wind from Helan Mountain blew under the red wall of the capital. In the sea fog in the east, a Portuguese sailor is holding a sextant, looking for a route to Nagasaki among the waves. In his opinion, what is surging under this sea is not only gold, but also gunpowder that can destroy the old order. At this time, in an old official room in Tielingwei, Liaodong. A broken lamp reflected a pair of deep pupils. Chen Zhen held a short blunderbuss full of the smell of gunpowder, and his fingertips lightly brushed the slightly rough wrought iron blunderbuss barrel. At that moment, he seemed to hear the pulse of steel.