DLERB -Chapter 49 The Script Is Wrong! Has Father Emperor Turned on Turbo Mode?

“Estimated to arrive in Xianyang by tomorrow morning!”

After shouting out his last ounce of strength, the Black Ice Platform scout tilted his head and collapsed unconscious.

The treasury fell into absolute silence.

The fanaticism on Li Si’s face vanished instantly.

His old eyes stared fixedly toward the entrance, as if he could already see the black iron tide rolling in.

“Too late…”

His trembling lips produced a voice like sandpaper scraping.

“The banners for the people’s petitions… aren’t even finished yet.”

“The story of Chunyu Gong’s ‘transcendent enlightenment and bowing to Shennong’ has only just begun to spread!”

Wang Jian’s scarred old face also lost all color in an instant.

He clenched his fist violently, knuckles turning white.

“The Divine Strategist Army…”

“The armor hasn’t even been fully distributed!”

“The formations of the new recruits aren’t even trained yet! If we send them out now, they’re just a mob!”

“This… this isn’t a political maneuver anymore—it’s suicide!”

Despair.

Even deeper despair than when Zhao Gao’s secret letter was revealed before, once again shrouded everyone.

But Ying Ziye simply jumped down from his seat.

“Clap.”

He tossed a dried fruit into his mouth and chewed it crisply.

Li Si and Wang Jian looked at him like he was insane.

Ying Ziye clapped his little hands.

“Perfect timing!”

“I was even thinking three days was too slow—boring.”

“Tomorrow morning is just right!”

Li Si stepped forward abruptly, his voice cracking.

“Your Highness! This is no joke! One wrong step and everything collapses!”

Ying Ziye tilted his head at him.

“Chancellor, who said we’re using banners?”

“That kind of thing is fake. Too artificial.”

He walked to Li Si and pointed outside the treasury.

“Go immediately!”

“Mobilize every kitchen in the city! Roast all the corn and sweet potatoes we have!”

“No need for slogans!”

“I want the smell of grain to fill the entire imperial road!”

“I want Father Emperor’s nose to tell him—Xianyang has no starving people!”

Li Si froze.

Welcome someone with smell?

Use the scent of full bellies to resist the Emperor’s wrath?

Ying Ziye no longer paid him attention and turned to Wang Jian and Han Xin.

“General Wang Jian.”

“We won’t have time to replace the armor—so don’t replace it!”

Wang Jian opened his mouth, trying to object.

But Ying Ziye turned to Han Xin.

“Uncle Han Xin, tell me—does killing depend on clothes, or on weapons?”

For the first time, Han Xin’s eternally calm face seemed to twitch at the corner of his mouth.

He did not answer.

Instead, he slowly drew his sword.

“Shing—”

A clear, ringing blade sound.

The sword was like autumn water, reflecting the candlelight with a chilling glow.

Ying Ziye nodded in satisfaction.

Then he turned back to Wang Jian and issued the order in a childish voice:

“Did you hear that?”

“Let them wear the tattered uniforms of Lantian garrison!”

“But every halberd, every spear, every blade must be polished until it shines!”

“I want Father Emperor to see—no matter how ragged their clothes are, the soldiers of Great Qin are still tigers that devour men!”

Then he added:

“And the horses!”

“Chop up all the sweet potato vines and feed them until every warhorse is full!”

“I want their neighing to drown out everything else!”

Wang Jian looked at the small figure before him, then at Han Xin silently sheathing his sword.

The chaos in his heart—fear, panic—disappeared.

Replaced by burning, overwhelming battle intent.

“I obey!”

Ying Ziye finally turned to Qinglong in the corner.

“Uncle Qinglong.”

Qinglong stepped out of the shadows and knelt on one knee.

“What are your orders, Your Highness?”

“Send your people out.”

“Not to watch the citizens—but to protect them.”

“Tell them to stand along the imperial road. Stand however they like, shout however they like.”

The corners of Ying Ziye’s mouth curled into a mischievous expression.

“Also distribute all the ‘warm little leather pouches’ from the Heavenly Craft Workshop.”

He paused.

“If any rats from the Six Kingdoms try to stir trouble and ruin the surprise I prepared for Father Emperor…”

“Make them cry louder.”

Qinglong raised his head, a faint smile flashing in his cold eyes.

“I obey!”

“Go.”

Ying Ziye waved his small hand as if shooing away flies.

“Before dawn, I want Xianyang exactly as I want it.”

Li Si, Wang Jian, and Qinglong exchanged glances.

Fear, panic, and despair had completely vanished.

Only fanatic determination remained.

“We obey!!”

They turned and rushed out.

Xianyang City instantly came alive in the dead of night.

Not chaos.

But a massive war machine beginning to roar into motion.

In a small house in the western district, an old farmer named Wang Er was shaken awake.

“Father! Wake up! Something big has happened!”

“What now? The sky is falling?”

“It’s worse than the sky falling!”

“Everyone says… His Majesty returns tomorrow!”

“Zhao Gao, that damned eunuch, slandered the young prince—said he’s evil! Said the divine crops are demonic!”

“He’s going to take away the potatoes we just got!”

Wang Er’s sleep vanished instantly.

He rushed outside barefoot.

In the corner of the yard, a carefully fenced patch of land held a single green potato seedling.

Their family’s lifeline.

Without hesitation, he dug it up with his bare hands, carefully wrapping the roots in cloth.

Then he held it like a newborn child.

“I’ll fight anyone who tries to take our food!”

Scenes like this happened all across Xianyang.

A widow picked up her sweet potato vine.

A young man pulled up his best corn stalk.

Streams of people converged toward the imperial road outside the city.

Dawn.

The sky was dim blue, morning stars still lingering.

Outside Xianyang, the imperial road was no longer empty.

A sea of people.

No formation. No banners. No slogans.

Only countless determined faces.

And in their hands—green crops held high like hope itself.

At the front stood three thousand soldiers in mismatched armor, weapons gleaming.

Their horses snorted hot breath, eyes red, restless.

At the very front stood a single small figure in black robes.

Ying Ziye.

He looked toward the distant horizon.

Time seemed to stop.

Then—

“DONG——!!”

A mournful bell rang from the city wall, slicing through the dawn silence!

A lookout screamed with all his strength:

“Dragon banner—!”

“It’s His Majesty’s Black Water Dragon Banner!!”

“The imperial carriage… has appeared!!!”