DLERB -Chapter 123 Physical Persuasion? Fusu: Working Is Redemption!

The wind on the city wall still carried the lingering smell of blood.

Ying Ziye stuffed the blue light sphere back into his chest.

In reality, he tossed it back into the system space.

He waved casually.

“General Meng.”

Meng Tian jogged over, armor clanking loudly, his face full of ingratiating smiles.

“Ninth Prince, your orders?”

Ying Ziye pointed at a nearby large water vat.

It was freshly drawn well water—murky, with a few strands of grass floating inside.

“Bring me a cup.”

Ying Ziye pulled out a small bottle from his clothes.

In truth, it was a single drop he had secretly taken from the Spiritual Spring earlier.

Just one drop.

Drip.

The water fell into the vat.

Instantly, the muddy water began to boil violently.

White mist rose up.

A refreshing, almost intoxicating fragrance immediately overwhelmed the stench of the battlefield.

“Distribute it to the injured soldiers.”

Ying Ziye clapped his hands.

“One sip each. Don’t drink too much—if someone gets a nosebleed from over-recovery, I’m not responsible.”

Meng Tian froze.

Just… distribute it?

This was divine water!

But he didn’t dare delay. He immediately shouted orders to his guards.

“Quick!”

“Take it down!”

“The severely injured first!”

Below the wall, in the medical camp.

A young Qin soldier lay on a straw mat.

His thigh had been bitten through by a wolf, blood still flowing nonstop.

His face was pale—he was clearly near death.

“Water…”

His cracked lips moved weakly.

A guard approached, holding a bowl of misting liquid.

“Open your mouth!”

The water was poured in.

Boom!

The young soldier’s eyes suddenly widened.

He felt it was not water.

It was fire.

A fire full of vitality.

Then—

A terrifying sight occurred.

The flesh around the hole in his thigh began to writhe violently.

Visible to the naked eye, it scabbed, peeled, and regenerated.

New flesh grew—soft, pink, and healthy.

In less than ten breaths—

He was healed.

Not even a scar remained.

The soldier suddenly sat up and touched his leg.

Then he looked at the empty bowl.

“ROAR!!”

He let out a burst of overflowing energy, punching the nearby stone.

CRACK!

The stone split.

The surrounding wounded soldiers were stunned into silence.

Then chaos erupted.

“Give me a sip!”

“I want it too!”

“Divine water! This is His Majesty’s divine water!”

Thousands of injured soldiers—who had once been Qin’s burden—were instantly revitalized after a single bowl.

They roared, full of energy, ready to charge out and kill wolves again.

Meng Tian stood there trembling.

His gaze toward Ying Ziye had changed.

No longer as a prince.

But as a god.

A true god.

“Enough. Stop standing there dazed.”

Ying Zheng’s voice came.

He was in a very good mood.

“Meng Tian, reorganize the troops.”

“Let’s see our spoils of war.”

Outside the city, in the open field.

Dense ranks of people knelt on the ground.

Xiongnu.

Touman was dead.

Modun was dead.

The Wolf God was gone.

What remained were sheep without spines.

More than two hundred thousand of them.

All bowed their heads, not daring to look up.

General Wang Jian walked over with his hand on his sword, killing intent surging.

“Your Majesty.”

He didn’t even look at the captives.

“Too many.”

“Taking them back would waste food.”

“Dig a pit here.”

Wang Jian made a cutting motion.

“Bury them all.”

“Build a mass grave to intimidate the remnants of Baiyue and the Six States.”

The Xiongnu, though they didn’t understand Qin speech, understood the gesture.

A wave of desperate wailing erupted.

“Bury us?”

Ying Ziye rolled his eyes.

He jumped onto a large rock and pointed at Wang Jian.

“Old Wang, are you wasting resources?”

Wang Jian froze.

“Ninth Prince, non-Chinese tribes cannot be trusted!”

“Leaving them alive is a disaster!”

“Bullshit!”

Ying Ziye jumped down and walked up to a strong Xiongnu man.

The man trembled violently, desperately kowtowing.

Ying Ziye grabbed his arm.

All muscle.

Pure sinew.

“Old Wang, look at this build.”

“This strength—better than an ox.”

He turned to Ying Zheng.

“Father.”

“Don’t we need to build the straight roads?”

“Don’t we need to excavate the Lishan tomb?”

“And the Great Wall—doesn’t it need reinforcement?”

He counted on his fingers.

“Using Qin citizens means wages, food, and compensation if they die.”

“Too expensive.”

He pointed at the captives.

“These are free laborers!”

“No wages needed.”

“Just feed them leftover food—enough so they don’t die.”

“Twelve hours of work a day.”

“When they die, throw them in a pit and they become fertilizer for grass.”

Ying Ziye spread his hands innocently.

“How can you want to bury such a profitable deal?”

“Are you stupid?”

The entire scene fell into silence.

Wang Jian stood there with his mouth open, unable to close it for a long time.

Meng Yi broke out in cold sweat.

Cruel.

Too cruel.

Killing them outright was brutal enough.

But this Ninth Prince wanted to squeeze out every last drop of value from them first.

A demon in human skin.

Ying Zheng listened—and his eyes lit up.

He wasn’t interested in killing.

He was more interested in building great wonders.

Great Qin was short on manpower everywhere.

These 200,000 strong laborers were practically a pie falling from the sky.

“Good!”

Ying Zheng laughed loudly.

“Ziye is right.”

“But…”

His tone shifted as he looked toward Fusu, who had been standing silently in the corner.

“Fusu.”

Fusu raised his head.

The blood on his face had not yet been wiped away; it had already dried into a dark brown stain.

Those eyes, once filled with Confucian ideals of benevolence and righteousness, were now cold and lifeless.

“This son is here.”

“Tell me, how should they be handled?”

Ying Zheng’s voice carried a hint of teasing amusement.

“Didn’t your Confucian teachers teach you to win people over with virtue?”

“Shouldn’t these 200,000 be released and ‘reformed’ with kindness?”

Wang Jian and Meng Tian both looked at Fusu.

In the past, the eldest prince would definitely have knelt down to plead for mercy, speaking of mercy from heaven and compassion for life.

But Fusu did not kneel.

He simply planted his sword into the ground.

Clang!

He walked toward the captives.

A Xiongnu noble saw his scholarly appearance and thought there was hope. He rushed forward, trying to cling to his legs and beg for mercy.

Pfft!

Fusu drew his sword.

He struck.

The head fell.

Clean.

Decisive.

Not the slightest hesitation.

The Xiongnu noble’s body collapsed, blood spraying all over Fusu.

Fusu did not even blink.

He turned back to look at Ying Zheng.

“Confucian teachings say: ‘Is it not a joy to have friends come from afar?’”

“This son believes that sending them to build the straight roads and contribute to Great Qin’s construction is their greatest joy.”

His voice was calm.

Calm enough to be frightening.

“As for reforming them…”

He kicked the headless corpse.

“Working them to death is the best redemption for the people of Great Qin.”

“This is what I understand as physical persuasion.”

Ying Zheng froze.

Even Ying Ziye froze.

Then Ying Ziye whistled.

“Big brother, impressive.”

Ying Zheng threw his head back and laughed.

The sound shook the banners in the wind.

“Good! Excellent ‘physical persuasion’!”

“This is truly the seed of Ying Zheng!”

“I approve!”

He waved his hand.

“These 200,000 laborers will be under your command!”

“If the roads are not built properly, I will hold you accountable!”

Fusu bowed.

“This son accepts the command.”

Three days later.

The army returned to the capital.

Meng Tian stayed behind.

He held a small bottle of spiritual spring water given by Ying Ziye.

He also had to oversee the 200,000 laborers.

A heavy responsibility.

Meanwhile, Ying Zheng returned to Xianyang with his two sons in a six-horse imperial carriage.

Inside the spacious carriage were thick tiger furs.

Warm. Comfortable.

Ying Zheng held a cup of diluted spiritual tea.

He felt like his life had reached its peak.

The Xiongnu were destroyed.

His sons had exceeded expectations.

His body had become younger.

This was truly a satisfying reign.

“Father.”

Ying Ziye leaned by the window, watching the scenery fly past.

“Our Great Qin is still too poor.”

Pfft!

Ying Zheng spat out his tea.

He stared at him.

“Poor?”

“I rule over all under heaven!”

“The wealth of the Six States belongs to Xianyang!”

“You call that poor?”

Ying Ziye shrugged.

He picked up a pastry and drew a circle on the table.

“Father, look.”

“This is Great Qin.”

Then he drew a much larger circle beside it.

“Far to the west, very far away…”

“There is a place called Rome.”

“And another called the Maurya Empire.”

Ying Zheng frowned.

“Barbarian lands?”

“Barbarian?”

Ying Ziye smiled.

A smile like a devil tempting the world.

“In those places, the ground is paved with gold.”

“In Rome, their women are different from ours.”

“Blonde hair like gold.”

“Blue eyes like gemstones.”

“Skin white as milk.”

As he spoke, he observed Ying Zheng’s expression.

“And their nobles eat from golden bowls.”

“Their toilets are made of gold.”

“Each conquered city brings back hundreds of carts of treasure.”

Ying Zheng’s breathing grew heavier.

Crack.

The tea cup in his hand cracked under his grip.

Gold? That was irrelevant.

The important thing was—

Could the empire be expanded further?

“Is this true?”

Ying Zheng stared at him.

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Ying Ziye stuffed the pastry into his mouth.

“The land there is even more fertile than ours.”

“Stick a chopstick in the ground and it will sprout.”

“It’s just a bit far.”

“But now we have roads, chariots… uh, I mean fast horses.”

“We can conquer it in just a few months.”

Ying Zheng suddenly stood up.

Even inside the carriage, his head nearly hit the roof.

His ambition ignited like wildfire.

The satisfaction of having just unified the world vanished instantly.

Replaced by wolf-like greed.

“Good.”

“Very good.”

He opened the carriage window and looked toward the western sky.

The direction of the setting sun.

“Under the sky, all lands belong to the emperor.”

“If there is gold, it belongs to me.”

“If there is land, it belongs to Great Qin.”

He turned back to Ying Ziye, a wild, almost feral smile on his face.

“Return to the palace!”

“I will plant the Black Water Dragon Banner of Great Qin…”

“On the imperial palace of Rome!”