In the imperial hall, Ying Ziye’s words were like a pebble thrown into a stagnant pond.
“Just dig it open, won’t it be fine?”
Qin Shi Huang’s hand holding the Heavenly Question Sword froze in mid-air.
Even Wang Jian’s eternally expressionless, stone-carved face showed a crack of emotion.
Li Si, still kneeling on the ground, raised his head.
Tears streamed down his old face as he looked at the small figure.
“Ninth Prince… that’s not a pile of dirt…”
“That’s a mountain! A stone mountain dozens of zhang deep!”
“How do you dig that? By filling it with lives?!”
Ying Ziye licked his candied haw.
He glanced disdainfully at the ministers of the court.
“Is stone really that hard?”
He asked.
Everyone froze.
Isn’t stone hard?
Ying Ziye ignored them.
He turned around and looked behind him.
There stood a young man in the Ministry of Works uniform, head always lowered like a mute.
“Ah Chou.”
Ying Ziye called out.
The young man raised his head.
From a small wooden box on his back, he took out something.
It was a black, cake-like object—like compressed charcoal.
He placed it on the ground.
Then he pulled out a small copper hammer.
Under everyone’s confused stares,
he raised the hammer.
And gently struck the black cake.
Bang!
A sharp, crisp explosion sounded—not loud, but startlingly clear.
A small puff of white smoke rose.
The closest ministers collapsed backward in fear.
Qin Shi Huang’s gaze suddenly froze.
He stared intently at the small crater left on the ground.
Ying Ziye finished his candied haw and casually tossed away the stick.
“I have a kind of medicine.”
His voice was innocent… yet cruel.
“It can make stone softer than tofu on a chopping board.”
“Father Emperor… do you want to use it?”
Qin Shi Huang said nothing.
He only looked at the mute young man.
Then at Ying Ziye.
In his gaze—now as if he had returned to his twenty-year-old self—an astonishing light burst forth.
He did not ask what the medicine was.
Nor did he ask how to use it.
He only said one word.
“Approved!”
Half a month later
Eastern Sea Island.
The sky was gray.
The rain still hadn’t stopped.
The entire mining zone of the Iwami Silver Mountain had turned into a vast swamp of mud.
Despair.
That was the only scent here.
Rumble…
A dull sound.
At the edge of the collapse zone, a massive boulder suddenly slid down without warning.
“Aaaah!”
Screams erupted.
Two Qin soldiers digging below didn’t even have time to dodge.
They were instantly crushed into two blurred masses of flesh and blood.
The surrounding soldiers froze.
They stared blankly at the red stain, quickly diluted by rainwater.
“Carry them away.”
A captain rasped hoarsely.
Two more soldiers stepped forward.
In just half a month, over thirty brothers had already died here.
Yet the core of the collapsed area… hadn’t even been opened by a single inch.
Fusu stood in the muddy water.
Rain and sludge had turned his black armor beyond recognition.
Even his face was covered in mud.
Only his eyes remained—bloodshot and terrifyingly bright.
Half a month.
He hadn’t had a single proper sleep.
When hungry, he chewed dry rations.
When thirsty, he drank rainwater.
He was like an unrelenting machine, nailed to this place.
But even machines… rust.
The iron pickaxe in his hand had already been replaced seven or eight times.
Every one of them had been worn down to the edge of destruction.
“Your Highness…”
The deputy general crawled over, his cracked lips full of blood.
“It won’t work…”
“The rocks are too hard, and water keeps seeping in from below.”
“If we keep digging, all the brothers will be buried here!”
Fusu did not turn around.
He simply stared at the unmoving ruins.
“Dig.”
Only one word squeezed out of his throat.
Deep underground.
No one knew how far down.
It was pitch black—no light at all.
Cough… cough cough…
Violent coughing echoed through the dead silence.
“Water…”
“Who still has water…”
A weak voice sounded, then faded away.
There was no water.
No food.
Even the air smelled of iron and blood.
Wang Li leaned against a damp, freezing rock.
He could feel it.
The “tools” of Great Qin around him… were slowly turning back into beasts.
In the darkness—
he heard chewing sounds.
Not chewing stone.
But biting into frozen, hardened armor.
And then—he heard something even more terrifying.
Heavy breathing.
And the sound of grinding teeth.
Unfriendly gazes fell on the injured men—some already dead, others barely clinging to life.
“Who dares move!”
Wang Li roared with all his remaining strength.
He drew his sword and slashed it hard against a rock.
Clang!
Sparks illuminated his young, ferocious face.
“If you want to die, I’ll grant it first!”
The unrest was temporarily suppressed.
But Wang Li knew it wouldn’t last.
When hunger and despair fully overwhelmed them, they would devour anything alive within reach.
Including him.
Just then—
Dong… dong dong…
A faint but rhythmic knocking sound.
It came from deep within the rock above them.
Not a collapse.
Someone was outside!
Wang Li suddenly looked up.
In the darkness, everyone still able to move raised their heads.
At that moment—
a spark of light returned to all their eyes.
The Port
Great Qin’s massive warships docked like giant beasts.
Ying Ziye was the first to jump off the ship.
He wore a clean embroidered robe and wooden clogs, looking as if he were on a leisure outing.
Behind him stood Ah Chou, the mute.
And dozens of top craftsmen from the Ministry of Works.
They carried heavy wooden crates, stumbling forward step by step.
Ying Ziye didn’t even glance at the collapsed disaster zone.
He walked to a flat elevated area.
And saw Fusu standing in the muddy water—like a mud-covered beast.
Ying Ziye grinned, revealing a row of small white teeth.
“Big Brother.”
“I heard you’ve been playing in the mud here?”
Fusu slowly turned around.
Seeing his clean, relaxed younger brother—
a fire surged in his chest, almost burning through his skull.
“Ziye!”
He forced out the words through clenched teeth.
“I don’t have time to play with you!”
Ying Ziye pointed at the wooden crates behind him.
“Who said I’m here to play?”
“I brought you toys.”
He walked to one crate and kicked the lid open.
Crash.
A full box of black granular material was revealed.
Ying Ziye scooped up a handful.
“Big Brother.”
“Remember this.”
“Brute force is the most inefficient—and stupidest—thing in this world.”
The deputy general beside Fusu stared at the black substance in confusion.
“Ninth Prince, what is this?”
“Charcoal for burning fire?”
Ying Ziye ignored him.
He waved his hand at Ah Chou.
Ah Chou immediately led the craftsmen forward, carrying long, strange steel drills.
They rushed toward the ruins.
On red markings that had been drawn earlier by Ying Ziye’s men—
they began drilling.
Ding ding dang dang…
The sound rang out in rapid succession.
The deputy general was even more confused.
“Your Highness, what’s the point of drilling such small holes?”
“It’s not as useful as letting the brothers dig a few more strikes!”
Fusu said nothing.
He only stared intently at Ying Ziye’s actions.
Soon, dozens of holes were drilled—deep, shallow, at varying angles.
“Fill it.”
Ying Ziye yawned.
The craftsmen carefully poured the black granules into the holes using special funnels.
Then they connected everything with long fuses.
Everything was ready.
Ying Ziye turned back toward Fusu.
“Big Brother, cover your ears.”
“Let me show you what divine methods look like.”
He took the torch.
And lit the main fuse.
Hiss—
A fire snake shot forward along the line.
No earth-shattering explosion.
Not even much sound.
Boom.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A series of dull thunder-like vibrations rolled up from deep underground.
The ruins trembled violently.
Then—
under the gaze of thousands of stunned eyes—
the massive collapsed rock that had blocked them for half a month, killing dozens of men and remaining completely unmoved…
split apart like a perfectly sliced giant cake.
Along those drilled holes, it cracked open inch by inch.
Disintegrated.
Collapsed.
Countless stones did not explode outward—but rolled in one direction with thunderous force.
Dust surged into the sky.
When it finally settled—
a pitch-black tunnel appeared.
Wide enough for several men to walk side by side.
A miracle.
It appeared before everyone’s eyes.
The entire world fell silent.
Fusu stood frozen.
He looked at the tunnel.
Then lowered his head.
And looked at the worn, mud-covered pickaxe in his hand.
His hand—the hand gripping the pickaxe—for the first time…began to tremble uncontrollably.
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