DLERB -Chapter 67 With This Punch, You Might Die!

It stank.

An absolutely unbearable stench.

Emperor Qin Shi Huang lowered his head and looked at himself.

Black, filthy sludge was continuously seeping out from his pores.

Sticky.

Greasy.

“Water!” he roared.

The sound was so loud it shook dust down from the palace ceiling.

The old eunuch outside was so frightened he tumbled into the room.

The moment he entered—

“Ugh—”

He rolled his eyes back and fainted on the spot.

It was too foul.

The smell was almost lethal.

Ying Ziye pinched his nose and stepped back three paces in disgust.

“Father Emperor, did you scrub out all the bath grime from your entire life?”

Qin Shi Huang had no time to answer him.

He felt like a terracotta warrior just dug out of a cesspit.

“Prepare water!!”

“Quick!!”

……

Half an hour later.

In the side palace bath chamber.

Ten rounds of water had already been changed.

The originally clear pool water was now as black as ink.

Several palace maids came and went carrying wooden buckets, their faces pale with fear.

They exchanged terrified glances in secret.

What had happened to His Majesty?

Why was he secreting this black water?

Could it be… corpse fluid?

No one dared speak.

No one dared ask.

They could only desperately keep changing the water and scrubbing him clean.

Finally.

The water turned clear again.

Qin Shi Huang stood up from the bath.

Splash—

Water droplets rolled down his sculpted muscles.

He lowered his head.

And froze.

His once loose, sagging belly was gone.

In its place—eight sharply defined abdominal muscles.

Hard as iron.

He raised his hand.

The age spots that once covered the back of his hand were gone, replaced by smooth, jade-like skin.

The veins on his arms bulged with explosive power.

This…

Was this really his body?

Qin Shi Huang could hardly believe it.

He strode to the bronze mirror.

Clang!

The cloth in his hand fell to the ground.

The man in the mirror—

Sharp brows, bright eyes.

A high, straight nose.

Half of his once-gray hair was now jet black and glossy, draping behind him like silk.

The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were gone.

Those once-clouded eyes now shone like two freshly unsheathed blades.

This was no longer a fifty-year-old aging emperor.

This was the Qin King Zheng from twenty years ago—

When he had just taken full control of the throne, full of ambition, determined to conquer all under heaven.

“Ha…”

Qin Shi Huang touched his own face.

He smiled.

“Hahahaha!!”

His laughter grew louder and louder.

Even the bronze mirror began to hum and tremble.

He was back.

All of it came back!

That feeling—walking with wind at your back, a single punch able to kill a tiger—was back!

“Guards!”

“Change my clothes!”

Ying Zheng spread his arms.

The palace maids tremblingly walked in, holding a black dragon robe.

But the moment they lifted their heads and saw his face—

“Ah!!”

A scream tore through the night sky.

The tray in her hands clattered to the floor.

She collapsed onto the ground, pointing at Ying Zheng, lips shaking so hard she couldn’t speak.

“Yo… Your Majesty?”

Rejuvenation!

This was a miracle of the gods!

Ying Zheng was in a great mood and didn’t bother with her improper conduct.

He casually grabbed the dragon robe and draped it over himself.

Didn’t even bother tying it properly.

His powerful, sculpted chest remained exposed.

“Let’s go!”

“Follow me out for some fresh air!”

……

Outside the hall.

The moon was bright, the stars sparse.

Ying Ziye was sitting on the steps, bored, counting stars.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around.

Then he let out a loud whistle.

“Oh.”

“Whose handsome young nobleman is this?”

“Want to come drink a few cups with me?”

Ying Zheng laughed heartily as he walked over.

He stepped down three steps in a single stride, as light as a swallow.

“You brat!”

“Daring to tease your father!”

He reached out, intending—as he always did—to pat Ying Ziye’s head.

Suddenly.

He stopped.

The surging power inside his body made him feel like if he didn’t release it, he would explode.

He needed something to hit.

Or…someone to beat up.

Ying Zheng scanned his surroundings.

His gaze landed on a nearby pillar.

That was Meng Yi.

Grand Commandant of Qin.

Younger brother of Meng Tian.

And one of the fiercest generals of Great Qin.

At that moment, Meng Yi stood there holding his sword, dutifully guarding the hall.

Hearing the movement, he turned around.

“Who goes there!”

His hand went to his sword hilt, killing intent bursting forth.

But the moment he saw who it was—

The word “who” stuck in his throat.

Meng Yi’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

He rubbed his eyes hard.

Then rubbed them again.

No mistake.

That figure.

That dragon robe.

That overwhelming presence.

It was the Emperor.

But…

Why did he look so young?!

Had he eaten some divine elixir? Or was he seeing a ghost in the middle of the night?

“Meng Yi!”

Ying Zheng called out.

His voice was deep and powerful.

Meng Yi shuddered all over and quickly dropped to one knee.

“Your Majesty!”

Ying Zheng flexed his wrist.

His joints cracked with a series of sharp popping sounds.

“Get up.”

“Train with me.”

Meng Yi froze.

“Train… train?”

“Your Majesty, swords and blades have no eyes. This subject does not dare—”

“Enough nonsense!”

Ying Zheng cut him off impatiently.

“No weapons.”

“Only fists and kicks!”

“This is an order. Use your full strength to strike me!”

Meng Yi shook his head so fast it looked like a rattle drum.

“This subject would rather die ten thousand deaths!”

Fight the Emperor?

And a strangely rejuvenated Emperor at that?

Did he have a death wish?

“You don’t dare?”

Ying Zheng let out a cold laugh.

“Then I’ll beat you until you do!”

The words had barely fallen—

Ying Zheng moved.

No flashy technique.

Just a straight punch.

Shooting directly toward Meng Yi’s face!

Fast!

Too fast!

So fast that Meng Yi didn’t even have time to think.

His body reacted on instinct alone.

He crossed both arms in front of his chest in a defensive stance.

In his mind, he was still thinking: The Emperor’s punch looks powerful, but it’s probably just showy. I should pretend to be pushed back a couple of steps…

BOOM!!

A dull, heavy impact exploded like a giant iron hammer striking his arms.

Meng Yi’s expression changed instantly.

This was not showmanship.

This was a raging bull!

A terrifying force surged through his arms and spread through his entire body.

“Back! Back! Back! Back! Back!”

He staggered five or six steps backward.

Each step left a white mark on the hard stone floor.

On the final step, he forcefully stomped down to stabilize himself.

Even so, both of his arms trembled uncontrollably.

Completely numb.

Utterly numb.

Meng Yi looked up in terror.

At the Emperor standing motionless where he was.

This…

This is His Majesty?

Back when he conquered the Six Kingdoms, the Emperor was already formidable—but nothing like this!

That punch carried at least a thousand jin of force!

It could kill an ox outright!

“Refreshing!”

Ying Zheng withdrew his fist.

His face was filled with excitement.

The moment that punch landed, all the suppressed heaviness in his chest vanished.

Clear.

Satisfying.

“Meng Yi, you’ve gotten weaker.”

Ying Zheng clasped his hands behind his back, looking quite pleased.

“You can’t even take one of my punches.”

Meng Yi wore a bitter expression as he shook his numb arms.

“Your Majesty is truly divine in might…”

“This subject… this old body really can’t endure Your Majesty’s training…”

He had truly been convinced.

This wasn’t training.

This was one-sided beating.

Nearby.

Ying Ziye casually tossed away a handful of melon seed shells.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

He applauded enthusiastically.

“Father Emperor is mighty!”

“Father Emperor is domineering!”

“That punch—if it lands on Rome in the future, that so-called Caesar Emperor will probably kneel and call you ‘father’!”

Ying Zheng was delighted upon hearing this.

Even though he had no idea who Caesar was…

It sounded extremely satisfying.

He strode over to Ying Ziye.

In the past, lifting his eight-year-old son required a bit of effort on his part.

After all, time spares no one.

But now—

Ying Zheng bent down, reached out, and lifted.

“Up!”

Ying Ziye only felt his body become weightless.

He was instantly lifted into the air—

Held above Ying Zheng’s head with a single hand!

As easily as lifting a cloth doll.

“Hahaha!”

Ying Zheng looked up at his son sitting on his shoulders.

“Good son!”

“This elixir from the immortals is truly real!”

“Now I feel like even living another fifty years would be no problem at all!”

Ying Ziye grabbed Ying Zheng’s jet-black hair and grinned.

“Heh heh.”

“Of course.”

“The immortals said that as long as Father Emperor listens, there will be even more good things in the future.”

“Not just fifty years.”

“Even five hundred years is possible!”

Ying Zheng’s eyes lit up even brighter.

Five hundred years!

If he truly had five hundred years…

Then every corner of the world map would be planted with the black Qin dragon banner!

“Pass down my decree!”

Ying Ziye set Ying Zheng down, but he was still pacing excitedly.

“Tomorrow’s court session!”

“I will show the world!”

“My Great Qin has not grown old!”

“And neither have I!”

He turned to Ying Ziye, his gaze full of affection.

“And you.”

“I will give you a heaven-shaking surprise!”

“I will let everyone know you are my most—”

Before he could finish—

“Report——!!”

A piercing, urgent cry cut through the warm moment.

A messenger carrying a flag on his back stumbled into the courtyard of the side palace, covered in blood.

It was an 800-li urgent dispatch rider!

Only for border emergencies or catastrophic events would such a signal be used.

The messenger fell to his knees.

Holding a rolled bamboo slip high above his head.

His voice was hoarse, almost breaking into tears.

“Your Majesty!”

“Urgent report from the northern border!”

“Eldest Prince Fusu… a handwritten blood letter!”