Xianyang City, East Gate.
The ground tiles here were trembling.
Very fast.
“Ta-ta-ta-ta.”
But it wasn’t hoofbeats—it was the sound of teacup lids knocking against porcelain bowls.
Inside a luxurious mansion in the city, a middle-aged noble who had once sworn that Ying Ziye was a “monster” was now kneeling before a desk.
He wanted to drink some water.
But his hands wouldn’t obey him.
The water spilled all over his pants, making it look like he had urinated himself.
“Master!” the steward stumbled in, tripping over the threshold and falling flat on his face.
He didn’t even get up, just lay there shouting:
“They’re here!”
“Ten li!”
“Only ten li away!”
The teacup in the noble’s hand shattered to the ground.
Broken porcelain fragments splashed onto his face, leaving a bloody cut.
He didn’t wipe it.
He suddenly turned and stared at the fire brazier in the corner.
“Burn it!”
He rushed over, grabbing the bamboo slips on the table—unpublished joint memorials from various Confucian scholars, intended to impeach Ying Ziye at tomorrow’s court session—and stuffed them all into the fire.
Flames surged up.
They singed his eyebrows.
“Faster! Burn faster!”
He tried to pull the burning bamboo slips apart with his bare hands, his fingers blistering instantly.
The steward trembled on the ground.
“Master… it’s too late…”
“I heard… I heard the Supervisory Bureau has been waiting outside our gate since last night…”
The noble froze.
He collapsed onto the ground, staring at the half-burned memorials.
It was over.
……
Xianyang Palace, Zhangtai Hall.
Ying Zheng was reviewing memorials.
Li Si stood beside him, holding a thick list.
It contained all the noble families who had been the most outspoken in recent days.
“Your Majesty,” Li Si said, stepping forward.
“This was compiled by the Black Ice Platform last night. Thirty-seven families in total.”
“The charges are spreading rumors and slandering the royal family.”
Ying Zheng didn’t take it.
His brush continued moving across the bamboo slips.
“Put it there,” he said without looking up.
Li Si hesitated.
“Arrest them?”
Ying Zheng stopped writing.
He pointed at the tightly shut palace window.
“Open it.”
Li Si went over and pushed the heavy window open.
A low, distant horn sound immediately poured in from more than ten li away.
A Qin military horn.
Ancient. Dominating.
Then—
A beast’s roar, one no one had ever heard before.
“ROAAAR!!!”
Deep, heavy, carrying a bloody ferocity, shaking the window frames slightly.
Li Si’s hand trembled.
What was that sound?
Ying Zheng placed his brush on the stand and stood up, walking to the window.
He took a deep breath.
“Arrest them for what?”
“That brat’s commotion is more effective than any execution order.”
“Let them hear it.”
“Let them hear what real… strength sounds like.”
……
Weishui Bridge.
This was the only route into Xianyang.
At the bridgehead—
Three thousand northern iron cavalry formed a black wall.
Each soldier carried a Qin crossbow and wore a slashing saber at his waist.
Their killing intent was so heavy that even the fish in the Wei River didn’t dare surface.
At the front—
Fusu rode a black horse, not wearing a helmet.
The wind scattered his hair wildly.
Yet he sat on the horse like a stone, unmoving.
Opposite him—
Yellow dust rolled in.
A black cavalry force tore through the horizon.
Western Qin Iron Cavalry.
The two most elite forces of Qin met at the bridgehead.
Ten steps apart.
They stopped.
Warhorses snorted.
Ying Ziye rode forward.
He looked at the man opposite him—weathered, stern.
His elder brother.
Ten years ago, this man would shed tears over the deaths of a few Confucian scholars.
Now—
The scent of blood on him could be smelled even from ten steps away.
Ying Ziye dismounted.
Fusu also dismounted.
They walked toward each other.
No salutes.
No greetings.
BANG!
Their fists slammed together.
Then—
Shoulder to shoulder.
The roughest, most direct greeting soldiers ever give.
“Stronger now.”
Fusu pinched Ying Ziye’s shoulder. It was muscle like iron.
“If I weren’t strong, how would I carry so much gold?”
Ying Ziye replied casually.
Fusu smiled.
It was an ugly smile—the scar on his face tugged as he did.
“Some people call you a monster.”
Fusu pointed toward Xianyang.
“Just now, I wanted to go into the city and rip their mouths apart.”
“No need.”
Ying Ziye turned and pointed at the endless convoy behind him.
“This kind of dirty work doesn’t need Big Brother to handle it.”
He waved his hand.
“Let’s go.”
“Let Father Emperor see.”
“And let everyone in Xianyang see.”
“What a monster really is.”
……
Noon.
The main street of Xianyang—Zhuque Avenue.
It was already packed with people.
Not a single sound.
Everyone stretched their necks, staring toward the city gate.
“They’re coming!”
Someone shouted.
The ground began to tremble.
This vibration was stronger than any triumphant return of an army in the past.
Boom… Boom… Boom…
A massive black shadow blocked the sunlight at the city gate.
The first war elephant stepped inside.
What kind of creature was that?
Its four legs were like pillars. Its long trunk coiled around a bronze rod as thick as a bowl.
On its back sat two dark-skinned Kunlun slaves, striking war drums mounted on the saddle.
“Aah!”
The people on both sides of the street cried out and retreated.
Some collapsed directly onto the ground.
The largest livestock they had ever seen in their lives was a cow.
This thing could flatten a house in a single step.
But this was only the beginning.
After the war elephants came enormous iron cage carts.
ROAR!
A golden-maned lion suddenly slammed into the iron bars of its cage and let out a terrifying roar.
A wave of blood stench hit the air.
Its gaping jaws and sharp fangs made the nearest Confucian scholars drop their bamboo scrolls in terror.
So this was the so-called Western demon beast?
No.
It was far more terrifying than a demon.
It was a man-eating beast.
And then—
A blinding light almost blinded everyone.
Rows of open carts came forward.
No covers.
No need for covers.
The first cart—
Gold bricks.
Stacked neatly, like city walls made of gold.
Sunlight reflected off them, bathing everything in a golden glow.
The second cart—
Still gold bricks.
The third—
Still gold bricks.
A full hundred carts.
A flowing river of gold.
The common people forgot to breathe.
They knelt down—not out of etiquette.
But because their legs gave out.
Because deep in their bones, they felt reverence toward wealth and power.
In the center of the formation—
Ying Ziye rode a blood-red horse forward slowly.
He did not look at the people on either side.
Nor at the nobles who had gone pale with fear.
He only looked calmly at the towering Xianyang Palace ahead.
Rumors.
Slander.
In front of these hundreds of giant beasts, thousands of carts of gold, and tens of thousands of wolves and tigers—
They were not even worth a fart.
A woman holding a child stared blankly at the young man on horseback.
Suddenly.
The child pointed at a cart full of gemstones and said in a soft voice:
“Mother, look.”
“The stars fell down.”
The woman hurriedly covered the child’s mouth—but realized her own hands were trembling too.
“Those aren’t stars.”
An old Qin soldier beside them, face flushed red, shouted with all his strength:
“That’s the prestige of our Great Qin!”
“That’s the prestige the Ninth Prince brought back for us!”
BOOM!
The crowd erupted.
All fear turned into frenzy in that instant.
Countless hands rose into the air.
Countless knees dropped to the ground.
A wave of sound surged toward the young man on the red horse like a tide.
“Great Qin, eternal!”
“Long live Your Highness!”
Listening to the deafening roar, Ying Ziye did not stop.
He only raised his horsewhip slightly.
Pointing toward the imperial palace ahead.
Go home.
Discussion
Comments
0 comments so far.
Sign in to join the conversation and keep your activity tied to this account.
No comments yet. Start the conversation.