DLERB -Chapter 113 Sealing Wolf! Brother, Dignity Is Carved Out With the Sword!

Tuman’s ears were filled with that sharp Xiongnu shout.

“Tuman, old dog, does your arm still hurt?”

“Don’t run! This young master brought medicine for your wounds!”

That voice was like a demon’s curse, drilling into the cracks of his bones.

He did not dare look back.

He did not even dare think about the fact that the voice belonged to an eight-year-old child.

He viciously whipped his horse with the scabbard, wanting only to flee—flee farther away from that sea of flames.

The royal court was finished.

Fire was everywhere.

Explosions were everywhere.

Everywhere were the dying screams of his tribesmen.

His most elite guards, warriors who could wrestle steppe wolves with their bare hands, were now like headless flies crashing wildly through the flames.

Even more people had dropped to their knees, kowtowing desperately toward the sky.

Shouting that “the Heavenly God is enraged.”

Idiots!

That was not a Heavenly God!

That was a devil!

“Kill!!”

A Qin warrior’s roar exploded through the chaotic camp like thunder.

Wang Li charged at the front on horseback.

The black armor on his body had already been dyed dark red with blood.

He laughed loudly.

Every swing of the Qin sword in his hand took another life.

“You little bastards! Why are you running?!”

“Your Grandpa Wang Li hasn’t killed enough yet!”

A Xiongnu commander of a thousand tried to gather the routed soldiers and resist.

He had only just raised his curved blade—

when Wang Li was already before him.

Slash!

A flash of sword light cut through the air.

The head adorned with colorful braids flew away.

The resistance instantly collapsed.

The remaining Xiongnu completely broke down.

Throwing away their weapons, they cried and screamed as they scattered in all directions.

An absurd scene unfolded across the entire royal court.

Eight hundred Qin cavalrymen were chasing tens of thousands of Xiongnu warriors and slaughtering them.

This was no war.

This was a hunt.

Fusu was also among the ranks.

Unlike Wang Li, he did not shout wildly.

He was very quiet.

Quiet as ice.

In the firelight, his eyes looked like two burning cold stars.

He did not pursue the ordinary fleeing soldiers.

His gaze was locked firmly onto one direction.

That figure in golden royal robes, desperately fleeing through the crowd.

Tuman!

Fusu urged his horse forward, circling from the flank.

He removed the longbow from his back.

Then drew an arrow from the quiver.

He did not aim for Tuman’s back.

Nor did he aim for his head.

The arrowhead pointed instead at the fat rump of Tuman’s mount.

The bow was drawn full like a crescent moon.

Bzzz—

The bowstring trembled.

The black arrow shot through the night sky like the tongue of a venomous serpent.

As Tuman desperately whipped his horse forward, he suddenly heard his mount let out an incomparably shrill scream.

“Neighhh!!”

The magnificent steppe horse reared violently onto its hind legs.

Then crashed heavily onto its side.

Tuman was hurled away by the tremendous force.

His body traced a miserable arc through the air.

Bang!

He slammed into the ground face-first, biting into rotten mud mixed with blood.

His golden crown fell off.

His hair came loose.

Like a wild dog with a broken spine.

He struggled to crawl back up.

Then a pair of black battle boots appeared before his eyes.

He raised his head.

And saw a young face devoid of expression.

It was Fusu.

Fusu dismounted slowly and walked toward him step by step.

The Qin sword in his hand dragged across the ground, carving a thin line behind it.

“D-Don’t kill me!”

Tuman was afraid.

Completely afraid.

He scrambled backward on hands and feet, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

“I… I am Tuman! I am the Great Chanyu!”

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you!”

“Gold! I’ll give you mountains of gold!”

“Women! The most beautiful women of the Xiongnu! They’ll all be yours!”

Fusu stopped walking.

Looking down at him from above.

Without saying a word.

That gaze was like he was looking at a corpse.

Tuman’s heart sank.

In those eyes, he saw no greed.

No desire.

Only hatred.

Pure, bone-deep hatred.

Fusu slowly raised his sword.

The blade pointed at Tuman’s throat.

Tuman shut his eyes, trembling like a leaf.

“Wait.”

A childish voice sounded out.

Ying Ziye rode over slowly on that fiery-red divine steed.

Qinglong followed behind him like a shadow.

“Brother.”

Ying Ziye stopped beside Fusu.

“Don’t kill him.”

Chapter 113: Sealing Wolf居胥! Brother, Dignity Is Carved Out With the Sword! (2/2)

Fusu froze mid-motion.

He turned to look at Ying Ziye, his eyes filled with bloodshot confusion.

“Why?”

“He’s the Chanyu. If we kill him, the Xiongnu will fall into chaos.”

Ying Ziye smiled.

The smile looked innocent and harmless.

But his words made the kneeling Tuman feel as though he had fallen into an icy abyss.

“Brother, what use is a dead lion?”

“But a living dog is much more useful.”

Ying Ziye pointed his riding crop at Tuman.

“Tie him up.”

“Take him back to Xianyang.”

“Dress him in women’s clothes and make him dance for Father Emperor’s entertainment.”

“Father Emperor will definitely be very pleased.”

Fusu was stunned.

The surrounding Qin soldiers were stunned as well.

Then the entire army erupted into thunderous laughter.

Tuman’s face instantly turned the color of pig liver.

This was ten thousand times worse than killing him.

“Tie him up!”

Wang Li walked over laughing loudly, binding Tuman tightly with ropes like a wrapped rice dumpling.

…

Dawn broke.

The battle was over.

The once-invincible Xiongnu royal court had become a scorched wasteland.

Three days later.

At the foot of Wolf居胥 Mountain.

Eight hundred Qin soldiers stood in formation.

They gazed at the mountain before them—a mountain not particularly tall, yet regarded by the people of the steppe as sacred as a god.

Every face carried a dazed sense of unreality.

They had done it.

They had truly fought their way here.

Ying Ziye sat atop his horse and stretched lazily.

He pointed toward a massive protruding rock near the summit.

“Wang Li.”

“Your subordinate is here!”

Wang Li stepped forward excitedly, his voice hoarse with emotion.

“Go up there.”

Ying Ziye’s voice was calm.

“And carve a few words onto that broken rock for me.”

Wang Li’s eyes lit up instantly.

What supreme glory this was!

To seal Wolf居胥 Mountain!

“What should I carve, Ninth Young Master?!”

he asked excitedly.

“Should I carve: ‘Great Qin for ten thousand generations, its might covering all beneath Heaven’?”

One centurion shouted loudly:

“Carve: ‘The Xiongnu brats are all pigs and dogs!’”

The soldiers burst into laughter again.

Ying Ziye stroked his chin with mock seriousness.

“Hm… let me think.”

He cleared his throat.

“Carve this—”

“‘The Ninth Young Master of Great Qin, Ying Ziye, together with his brother Fusu, General Wang Li, and eight hundred brave warriors, had a picnic here.’”

“……”

Silence.

Dead silence.

Everyone was dumbfounded.

Wang Li’s face flushed bright red.

“N-Ninth Young Master… if word of this spreads… isn’t it a bit…”

“A bit improper?”

Ying Ziye rolled his eyes.

“How boring.”

He put away his joking expression, and his little face suddenly became solemn.

That aura of authority belonging to a ruler surfaced once more.

“Listen carefully.”

“Carve only four words.”

“Great.”

“Qin.”

“Eternal.”

“Prosperity.”

Wang Li’s expression shook violently, and he immediately straightened his back.

“This general obeys!”

Taking the hammer and chisel handed over by a soldier, he climbed swiftly toward the summit like a nimble ape.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

The crisp sound of chiseling echoed through the silent valley.

Again.

And again.

The eight hundred soldiers below tilted their heads upward, watching silently.

Fusu watched too.

His gaze crossed the distance, landing on Wang Li’s swinging arm, on the gradually forming characters.

Great Qin Eternal Prosperity.

He recalled the books he had once studied.

He recalled the debates he had held in Xianyang Palace with the learned Confucian scholars.

Benevolence.

Ritual law.

The kingly way.

Then he remembered the infant nailed to a wooden stake by a spear.

Remembered the stench of raw flesh when he had bitten into it.

Remembered the sensation of the Qin sword slicing through an enemy’s throat.

He looked at that giant rock.

Looked at those four characters, carved onto the enemy’s sacred mountain by his comrades using the most primitive method imaginable.

And suddenly—

he understood.

Dignity was not won through debates over philosophy.

Glory was not earned through benevolence and righteousness.

It was fought for.

It was forged from the blood of enemies.

Slowly, he lowered his head.

A burning tear slid from the corner of his eye.

Falling onto the dry earth beneath his feet.

Spreading into a small dark stain.