210 BC

Shangjun

The military tent was solemn throughout. Wang Li knelt on one knee before a coffin, his resolute handsome face covered with self-recrimination and hatred.

A’luo had entrusted him with only one matter, and he’d failed to accomplish it.

But who could have imagined the First Emperor would issue a posthumous edict to Crown Prince Fu Su, ordering him to commit suicide?!

Yes, Wang Li standing outside the tent at that time had completely not seen the situation inside, yet heard the little eunuch’s shrill voice proclaiming that edict. Afterward came General Meng Tian’s roar. When he rushed inside the tent, he saw Crown Prince Fu Su covered in blood, a bronze sword stained with blood drops falling from his hands to the ground.

“Crown Prince Fu Su has obeyed the edict and committed suicide. Bury him on the spot.” The edict-proclaiming eunuch said coldly and sharply, expressionless. After glancing at Wang Li rushing into the tent, he turned to Meng Tian, furious with rage splitting his eyes, sternly proclaiming: “The First Emperor also left a posthumous command—Crown Prince had not an inch of achievement, General Tian failed to correct him, knew of his schemes. Both are granted death, with troops assigned to Deputy General Wang Li.”

Wang Li initially didn’t understand what the other meant. He urgently called for military physicians, crouching beside Fu Su’s side, struggling to resuscitate him, but the body beneath his palms was already ice-cold—even immortals couldn’t save him.

When he raised his head again, he discovered the military tent presented a confrontational situation between two sides. The edict-proclaiming envoys pressed aggressively, while General Meng Tian was protected behind by personal guards who’d rushed into the tent—both sides on the verge of erupting.

Perhaps seeing Wang Li recover his wits, the little eunuch repeated the posthumous edict just spoken, even spreading the decree before everyone, letting them verify handwriting and seals.

Though Wang Li never stepped into the political whirlpool, he understood the suspicious aspects. Overtly he couldn’t break with the envoys, nor could he lead troops in rebellion. If Prince Fu Su hadn’t died, he could still consider this—now he didn’t even have a proper justification.

These thoughts flashing instantly through his mind, Wang Li announced flatly: “Someone, escort General Meng back to his tent.”

“Deputy General Wang!” The little eunuch who’d been certain Wang Li would obey the edict to kill Meng Tian cried out in shock.

“Please address me as General Wang.” Wang Li said in an even colder voice. Having fought with real blades on battlefields, once he became serious, few could withstand his presence.

The little eunuch was indeed shocked by the killing intent in his words. Moreover, the armor on the other still bore Fu Su’s fresh blood, evil aura soaring skyward—immediately frightened speechless.

Meng Tian left the military tent with iron-blue face, not worrying for his own safety. Wang Li was someone he’d personally promoted—he would certainly do his utmost to protect him. Only that Crown Prince Fu Su was assassinated when caught off guard—henceforth Qin’s national fortune hung by a thread.

The subsequent collection of remains, reorganization of military affairs and various miscellaneous matters weren’t worth mentioning. After Wang Li’s self-recrimination, what worried him was the young Minister who’d returned to Xianyang.

Hu Hai treated his own brother Fu Su thus—how much more a Minister without any real power…

The other had truly calculated well, entrusting him with Shangjun’s several hundred thousand troops, making him unable to willfully abandon responsibilities to return to Xianyang to save him…

“General, it’s time to see off His Highness.” A personal guard reminded softly.

Wang Li stood up, face like still water.

Xianyang

Ying stood at the street corner of Shengping Alley, watching A’luo and the King of Yiyang surrounded by Tiger Guards, leaving the long street.

Those Tiger Guards spoke of invitation, but it looked more like escorting prisoners.

However, Tiger Guards who only obeyed the emperor’s commands had always walked sideways through Xianyang City. Ying stood in the night wind pondering for a long while, feeling he’d probably overthought.

Since even all officials were summoned to hold funerals for the First Emperor, then Ying as imperial family should also go. The palace allocated to him was remote and long uninhabited—he’d long since privately built a residence in Xianyang City, but because of his low-key style and常居 at Gaoquan Palace, the Tiger Guards should be unable to find him.

Ying had no feelings for the First Emperor, nor any desire to attend the funeral. Moreover, now Hu Hai ascended the throne with Zhao Gao wielding power—he should still have much to do. Only after waiting for this Tiger Guard team to depart did Ying emerge from his hiding place at the street corner, head lowered walking toward his own residence.

This night was destined to be sleepless.

Xiapi

The Yi River flowed quietly through deep night. On the bridge spanning the Yi River, a young man was raising his head to look at the brilliant starry sky.

This man had a thin form, shoulders draped with a spotless white robe. He was much thinner than ordinary people, his cheekbones protruding from thinness, making his features even more distinct. His face was handsome and refined, but this couldn’t withstand his dishevelment. His long hair, too lazy to manage, was only loosely tied behind his head. Unshaven stubble still showed on his cheeks, giving an unkempt feeling, yet those sharp eyes couldn’t be ignored.

No one knew this man had once attempted to assassinate Qin Shihuang at Bolangsha. Though missing with one strike, he’d escaped intact.

This man gazed at the starry sky. After a long while, he sighed faintly.

“The stars are in chaos. The chaotic age will restart again…”

Kuaiji

The burly man who’d drilled all day walked indoors, casually placing the tiger-head coiled dragon halberd in his hands on the weapon rack. He’d picked up this tiger-head coiled dragon halberd on the battlefield in his youth—using it felt extremely comfortable, so he’d never left it behind.

However, comparatively, he still cared more about the flowers and plants beside the bed.

After appreciating them with lowered head for a while, the burly man picked up the nearby watering can, carefully watering while gently nagging: “Drink more water and sprout early!”

Dragon City Royal Court

Prince Modun, having successfully escaped back to the royal court, was personally carving snow-white wolf bone. On the table before him, dozens of completed bone whistling arrows were neatly arranged.

Whenever he made a bone whistling arrow, he couldn’t help recalling that little soldier he’d toyed with on the grassland.

Seemed to be called… something like Han Xin…

Didn’t know if he’d died in the end or not.

A few sparse cuts trimmed the bone hole edges. Prince Modun absent-mindedly played with the just-completed bone whistling arrow, saying in blood-permeating cold tones: “Henceforth, wherever this prince’s bone whistling arrows shoot, you all must shoot your arrows in unison!”

“Yes!” The personal guards in the tent responded in low, orderly voices.

Xianyang

Hu Hai stood before the bronze mirror, arms outstretched, allowing attendants to dress him piece by piece in imperial robes.

Inner garments and trousers, silk single robes, black upper garments and crimson lower garments,襭夹… Because his ascension was too hasty, the Weaving Chamber hadn’t prepared appropriate robes for him. Reportedly, if the head seamstress of the Weaving Chamber were present, she could alter ready-made imperial robes to fit him in one night. Unfortunately, that head seamstress had reportedly died of sudden illness. The Weaving Chamber was still rushing to make his robes.

So he could only use his father king’s robes as emergency measures. After donning the outermost imperial robe, it appeared even more oversized and ill-fitting. The figure in the bronze mirror carried a somewhat comical air—like a child secretly wearing adult’s clothing.

Just like the throne he’d stolen.

Hu Hai still felt somewhat dazed. Had he so easily ascended the emperor’s throne?

The attendant named Sun Shuo for who knows which number turned before Hu Hai, fastening his inner deep robe belt, then smoothing the clothing’s folds, finally wrapping the embroidered rolling cloud pattern ceremonial belt.

The nearby small attendant’s tray also held the Reaching Heaven Crown and the five-colored sash only emperors could wear—yellow base, white plumes, blue-crimson edges, five colors, four hundred tassels… Also the First Emperor’s personal sword, the seven-chi-long Tai’e Sword.

This was Hu Hai’s first time wearing so many things on his body. Initially rather novel, being tormented until now left only annoyance and exhaustion.

“This suffices.” Hu Hai glanced at the bronze water clock in the corner, impatiently urging. He also had to go to Mount Li for his father king’s funeral—time was running out.

The attendants hastened their speed, but they were all serving an emperor in robes for the first time. Such rushing instead made them more flustered.

“No need. You need not go.” A man wearing five-colored fish-scale silk deep robes walked in leisurely. His voice held no fluctuation, sounding seemingly harmless, but attendants around Hu Hai long knew his cruelty. The small attendant holding the tray couldn’t help trembling, the ornaments and accessories clanging incessantly.

“You all temporarily withdraw.” This person instructed flatly. When his last word finished, only he and Hu Hai remained in the room.

Hu Hai’s complexion was somewhat gloomy. Though he was honored as emperor, people around him had already willfully obeyed others’ commands and left before he spoke.

For the first time, he began feeling that being this emperor wasn’t as fun as he’d imagined.

Perhaps… when his eldest brother returned from Shangjun, he’d just return it to him. After all, his eldest brother had always indulged his willfulness…

Hu Hai’s mind turned chaotically with such thoughts, yet his mouth asked: “Why need I not go to Mount Li for Father King’s funeral?”

Zhao Gao raised a smile laden with deep meaning, looking toward the sky outside the window already beginning to pale, slowly saying: “Because those going to the funeral today must send the First Emperor to the Yellow Springs.”

Hu Hai was shocked pale-faced, momentarily speechless.