DLERB -Chapter 106 You Call This Warfare? This Is an Armed Picnic!

The wind outside the city could not blow away the thick smell of blood.

Tens of thousands of Xiongnu captives were penned inside an open field like sheep waiting for slaughter.

Ying Ziye pointed his horsewhip at the sea of dark heads.

“Big Brother.”

He turned to look at Fusu beside him.

Fusu’s face was smeared with dried blood and dirt, yet his eyes shone with a frightening brightness.

“See that?”

“That is your first batch of ‘military merit.’”

Fusu followed the direction of the whip, his throat bobbing slightly.

He said nothing.

Ying Ziye smiled.

“From now on, these people are under your control.”

Fusu froze.

“Ninth Brother, you mean…”

“I mean every single one of them is to be registered and cataloged.”

Ying Ziye withdrew the whip and lightly tapped it against his palm.

“Name, age, specialty.”

“Those who know herding—send them to raise horses.”

“Those who know blacksmithing—send them to the armories.”

“The strong ones—send them to build roads and dig mines.”

“Those who know nothing—send them to grow potatoes.”

Ying Ziye’s voice was soft, yet it made chills run through Fusu’s entire body.

“From today onward, they are state property of Great Qin.”

“Feed them just enough to keep them working until death.”

“When they die, bury them in the soil as fertilizer. Maybe the potatoes will grow a couple more.”

Ying Ziye patted Fusu on the shoulder.

“Go on, Big Brother.”

“This is your first lesson in becoming a qualified prince of Qin.”

“Don’t let your benevolence and righteousness show themselves again.”

Fusu stared at Ying Ziye’s childish face and nodded heavily.

“I understand.”

He turned and walked toward the captives.

Without the slightest hesitation.

…

Commandery Governor’s Manor of Shangjun.

The so-called victory banquet was pitifully simple.

One large table, surrounded by only a few people.

Ying Zheng, Ying Ziye, Meng Tian, Wang Li, and Fusu—who had just finished handling the transfer of prisoners and came back drenched in sweat and stink.

The main dish of the feast was roasted potatoes freshly dug from the ground.

Along with several large plates of boiled horse meat.

Meng Tian picked up a scorching hot potato and copied Ying Zheng’s method, peeling off the skin before taking a huge bite.

Soft, sweet, and fragrant.

“This… this is the divine crop Ninth Young Master presented?”

Meng Tian’s eyes widened like bronze bells.

“Delicious!”

“Your Majesty, if this thing can be distributed throughout the army, Great Qin will never have to worry about military provisions again!”

Ying Zheng merely snorted and ignored him.

He was busy eating a chunk of horse meat dipped in Ying Ziye’s specially made chili powder, sweating profusely from the spice.

“Refreshing!”

After three rounds of drinks—

Which actually meant several bowls of water—

Meng Tian stood up with a solemn expression.

“Your Majesty, Ninth Young Master.”

“Though this battle was a great victory, the Xiongnu main force has not been destroyed, and Touman is still alive.”

“I believe we should advance steadily and securely, using the three hundred thousand troops as our foundation, fortifying step by step while constructing military strongholds and gradually pushing deeper into the grasslands.”

“Within three to five years, we can completely squeeze out the Xiongnu’s living space!”

He spoke passionately. It was the safest and most traditional strategy.

“Pfft—”

Ying Ziye spat out a tendon from his mouth.

He raised his head and looked at Meng Tian.

“General Meng.”

“Are you planning to exhaust the Xiongnu to death, or exhaust yourselves to death?”

Meng Tian’s face instantly flushed red.

“Ninth Young Master, what do you mean by that?”

“The grasslands are vast, and our supply lines are too long. Reckless advancement is a great taboo in warfare!”

“A taboo?”

Ying Ziye stood up and walked toward the enormous map hanging on the wall.

It was an extremely crude sheepskin map.

“One man, three horses.”

“No civilian laborers. No supply wagons.”

“Only ten days’ worth of rations.”

“Travel three hundred li by day and two hundred li by night.”

Ying Ziye’s finger drew a straight line across the map.

Starting from Shangjun, it pierced deep into the grasslands like a sharp sword.

“Find Touman’s royal court.”

“Kill every man in his tribe.”

“Take away his cattle, sheep, and women.”

“And burn all of his tents to ashes.”

Ying Ziye turned around and looked at the utterly dumbfounded crowd.

“This…”

“This is what real warfare looks like.”

The governor’s manor fell into deathly silence.

Wang Li was the first to shout.

“That’s impossible!”

“Ninth Young Master, this isn’t warfare—this is suicide!”

Meng Tian also snapped back to his senses and shook his head repeatedly.

“Ninth Young Master, absolutely not!”

“The endless grasslands have no guides and no supplies. Entering them is walking straight into death!”

“Even if the Xiongnu don’t annihilate us, we’ll die of thirst and starvation!”

“Who said there are no supplies?”

Ying Ziye clapped his hands.

Qinglong walked in carrying a tray.

On the tray sat a large bowl, a bag of yellow powder, and a small pouch of meat floss.

“What is this?” Meng Tian asked in confusion.

“Fried flour.”

Ying Ziye signaled for Qinglong to pour some cold water into the bowl and stir it with chopsticks.

Very quickly, the powder turned into a thick, sticky paste.

“Try it.”

Ying Ziye pushed the bowl toward Ying Zheng.

Ying Zheng frowned and sniffed it.

It smelled like raw flour.

He scooped up a spoonful and stuffed it into his mouth.

Dry.

So dry it nearly choked him.

But the next moment—

Ying Zheng’s eyes lit up.

He could feel warmth rapidly spreading through his stomach after swallowing it.

“Good stuff!”

Ying Zheng immediately made the decision.

“Pass down the order! Promote this throughout the entire army!”

He looked at Ying Ziye with blazing eyes.

“We’ll do exactly as Ziye says!”

Meng Tian still wanted to object, but one glare from Ying Zheng shut him up instantly.

“I want eight hundred men.”

Ying Ziye raised a finger.

“No cowards. No men afraid of death.”

“I only want the craziest soldiers in the army, the best riders—men who dare follow me into the grasslands and slaughter our way through seven times over!”

“Do we have them?!”

The moment his words fell—

Bang!

The hall doors were slammed open.

Fusu rushed inside.

His entire body was covered in dirt and sweat, and the smell of blood had not yet faded from him.

He dropped to one knee.

His voice was hoarse, yet carried absolute determination.

“Your son requests permission to fight!”

Everyone in the hall turned to look at him.

Ying Ziye glanced at him up and down.

“You?”

“A scholar who can’t even finish counting prisoners?”

“You can’t even tell horse fodder from bean feed, and you still want to go to war?”

Fusu did not argue.

He raised his head and looked at Ying Ziye.

The next second—

He suddenly pulled the dagger from his waist.

Under everyone’s horrified gaze, he viciously slashed across his own palm.

Blood instantly poured out.

He did not make a sound.

He stretched out that bloody hand onto the cold floor—

And began writing stroke by stroke.

The handwriting was crooked and uneven.

Yet every word radiated fierce resolve.

“Willing to serve as the vanguard and die without retreating a single step!”

After writing that sentence—

He lifted his head and looked at Ying Ziye.

Those eyes were dark as an abyss.

Ying Ziye stared back at him for a moment.

“Fine.”

“Since you’re so eager to throw your life away, I’ll grant your wish.”

“In this eight-hundred-man ‘Lightning’ Battalion, you’ll serve as the chief stablemaster.”

“You are only allowed to feed horses. No weapons.”

Fusu showed not the slightest dissatisfaction.

He heavily knocked his forehead against the floor in a kowtow.

A dull thud echoed through the hall.

“Thank you, Ninth Brother, for granting my request!”

At the side, Ying Zheng was watching with his blood boiling in excitement.

He grabbed the map off the table and strode toward Ying Ziye.

“Good! Excellent! A true vanguard warrior!”

“Then I shall be your first先锋!”

“This campaign—I will personally lead the expedition!”

“No.”

Ying Ziye rejected him without even thinking.

Ying Zheng’s face froze.

“What did you say?”

“I said no.”

Ying Ziye repeated himself.

“Dad, you’re the ruler of an empire. Your throne isn’t even warm yet, and you already want to run wild outside?”

“What if you get lost on the grasslands and carried off by wolves? How am I supposed to explain that to Great Qin’s ancestors?”

“You—!”

Ying Zheng exploded with rage.

“Unfilial brat! I’ll beat you to death!”

He rolled up his sleeves and prepared to charge forward.

With a whoosh, Ying Ziye darted behind Meng Tian’s tall body.

“General Meng, save me! My dad’s committing domestic violence!”

Meng Tian stood rooted in place, not daring to move. His face had turned the color of eggplant from holding back laughter and fear.

“Get out here right now!”

Ying Zheng shouted furiously, practically jumping in anger.

“Alright, alright.”

Ying Ziye poked his little head out from behind Meng Tian.

He pulled something from his robes and waved it in front of Ying Zheng.

It was a small brass disc.

In the center was a thin needle that continuously trembled and pointed in one direction.

“Without this, you’d just be delivering takeout to the wolves if you entered the grasslands.”