DLERB -Chapter 86 Qin Shi Huang Is Dead—The Advantage Is Mine!

“Lord! Great news!!”

“Young master… the young master… he succeeded!!!”

On the main seat.

Xiang Liang suddenly stood up.

He stared dead at the blood-stained silk scroll.

On it was the handwriting he knew best—Xiang Zhuang’s.

Along with fresh, glaring bloodstains.

Xiang Liang rushed forward in a single stride and snatched the silk away.

He unfolded it.

“Uncle, the mission is complete!”

“Old dog Ying Ziye has been gravely wounded by my sword! He won’t live much longer!”

“The Xianyang Palace is in chaos! The old nobles of the royal clan are all our insiders!”

“Raise the army immediately!”

The words on the silk were wild, arrogant, and unrestrained.

Every character felt like a spark of fire, instantly igniting hope in Xiang Liang’s eyes.

He read it once.

Then again.

“Hahaha…”

“Hahahahahaha!”

Xiang Liang threw his head back and laughed wildly, his laughter echoing through the secret chamber like madness.

“Good! Good! My Qilin nephew!”

“Truly a thousand-mile steed of our Xiang clan!”

He clenched the letter tightly, veins bulging on the back of his hand.

From the shadows of the chamber, a thin, gaunt figure stepped forward.

It was Fan Zeng.

He looked at the almost deranged Xiang Liang, his brows tightly furrowed.

“My lord.”

Fan Zeng’s voice was calm.

“There is something suspicious about this matter.”

Xiang Liang’s laughter stopped abruptly.

He turned, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Fan Zeng.

“Suspicious?”

“The letter is here! The blood is here! Zhuang’er’s handwriting is here!”

“What is suspicious?!”

Fan Zeng pointed toward the direction of Xianyang.

“If Ying Zheng were truly critically wounded, why has Xianyang not been placed under full lockdown?”

“Why are the Long March Corps and the Nanyue Corps showing no movement at all?”

“This does not fit normal logic.”

Xiang Liang sneered.

He clasped his hands behind his back and paced inside the chamber.

“Master, you are getting old.”

“Your courage has grown smaller as well.”

He stopped and pointed at the letter.

“The letter says it clearly—chaos in the palace!”

“Chaos, do you understand?”

“The princes of Ying Zheng, and those ministers vying for power, are tearing each other apart right now!”

“Who would have time to worry about sealing the city gates?”

Xiang Liang’s voice grew more and more excited.

As if he could already see the chaos inside the Xianyang Palace.

“As for the armies?”

He let out a cold laugh.

“The military seals are in Ying Zheng’s hands! If he’s half-dead, who can mobilize troops?”

“That exiled Fusu in Shangjun?”

“Or that useless pleasure-loving fool Hu Hai?”

Xiang Liang stepped right up to Fan Zeng.

“And that eight-year-old monster Ying Ziye?”

“A mere child!”

“If his father is about to die, he’s probably already wetting his pants in fear!”

Fan Zeng fell silent.

He looked at Xiang Liang’s face, flushed with extreme excitement.

He knew his lord would not listen to reason anymore.

Seeing Fan Zeng say nothing, Xiang Liang assumed he had been convinced.

His expression grew even more triumphant.

“Master, look.”

He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the world itself.

“The moment Ying Zheng falls, the Qin Empire will collapse before our eyes!”

“This is a heaven-sent opportunity!”

“The only chance for our Chu restoration!”

“A chance bought with Zhuang’er’s life!”

His emotions surged to the peak.

CRACK!

Xiang Liang’s right hand suddenly clenched like a claw and slammed onto the wooden table beside him.

A solid corner of the table was torn off by brute force.

Wood splinters flew everywhere.

“Give my orders!”

Xiang Liang’s voice thundered like lightning.

“Gather all death soldiers in the manor immediately!”

“Raise the army!”

He then turned to his subordinates.

“Release all the pigeons!”

“Send word to Tian Dan of Qi State!”

“Tell Zhao Xie of Zhao State!”

“Tell all remnants of the Six States!”

He raised the blood letter and waved it madly.

“Ying Zheng is dead! The Great Qin will fall!”

“The time for Qin’s destruction is today!”

“Tell them to respond immediately—divide the world among us!”

“Yes!”

His subordinate accepted the order and rushed out.

Moments later.

Above the Xiang residence.

“Flap flap flap—”

Dozens of carrier pigeons took flight.

They carried a single insane ambition, spreading in all directions.

Flying toward the former lands of Qi, Zhao, Wei, Yan, and Han.

…

At the same time.

Xianyang Palace, Qilin Hall.

The brazier burned warmly.

Ying Ziye stood on a small stool, sitting beside Ying Zheng.

On the table in front of him was a plate of fresh, purple grapes.

He picked one up, peeled it slowly, and put it into his mouth with unhurried ease.

Ying Zheng was reviewing memorials.

They were reports on the promotion of new farming tools from the “Tiangong Workshop.”

He read them with great interest.

After finishing a grape, Ying Ziye waved his small hand in the air.

A golden translucent panel only he could see unfolded before him.

It was a massive, dynamic map of the world.

On the map, tiny red dots—representing the remnants of the Six States scattered across Great Qin—were originally dispersed everywhere.

Now, they were gathering wildly from all directions like flies drawn to blood.

The largest cluster of red dots was near Kuaiji Commandery.

It was rapidly expanding.

Ying Ziye watched this scene without any expression.

He picked up another grape, peeled it, and casually fed it to Ying Zheng.

Ying Zheng didn’t even look up and ate it.

“Father.”

Ying Ziye spoke in a childish, soft voice.

He pointed at the empty air, as if something truly existed there.

“Look.”

“Isn’t this just… pulling all the monsters together?”

His tone was innocent and cheerful.

But the words made the surrounding maids and eunuchs completely confused.

Ying Ziye added another sentence.

“So I won’t have to go find them one by one and grind them one by one later.”

“That would be too troublesome.”

Ying Zheng paused his brush.

He lifted his head and looked at his son.

This kid…

Was speaking nonsense again—things he couldn’t understand.

But he could roughly guess the meaning.

A cold curve appeared at the corner of Ying Zheng’s mouth.

At that moment—

“BANG!”

The palace doors were pushed open from outside.

A tall, imposing figure strode in.

It was the veteran general Wang Jian.

Today he was not in court robes, but in light battle attire.

He looked like a tiger about to be released from its cage.

Wang Jian walked to the center of the hall and knelt on one knee.

His voice was like a great bell:

“Your Majesty! Ninth Prince!”

“I hear those cowardly rats outside have finally crawled out of their holes?”

Ying Zheng said nothing, only looking at him.

Wang Jian raised his head.

On his weathered face, there was no sign of age—only soaring killing intent.

“Your Majesty!”

“This old minister can still eat!”

“My blade is not dull yet!”

He clenched his fist heavily; his armor clanged loudly.

“Please grant this old minister ten thousand troops!”

“No!”

“Five thousand!”

“Only five thousand Hundred-Battle Armored Soldiers are enough!”

Wang Jian’s roar seemed ready to lift the roof of Qilin Hall.

“This old minister will go and take those brats’ heads—”

“All of them—”

“For Your Majesty and the Ninth Prince!”

“Twist them off!!”