Chà Chà Novel

Victory in the southwest, the suppression of Lai’an, a personal welcome at the city gates, a shared imperial carriage—now everyone knew how much the Prince Regent mattered to the emperor. They also understood that, in barely half a year, these sworn enemies truly seemed to have become “kindred spirits.”

While the assembled officials anxiously wondered whether His Majesty would honor the outrageous promise he had made before the Prince Regent’s departure, Song Liang issued three imperial edicts in succession.

The first proclaimed that the former heir to the Prince of Duan had murdered his own father and risen against his sovereign. Having fled to the Helan clan of Longxi, he was to be surrendered immediately. Otherwise, the clan would be judged rebels and exterminated to the ninth degree of kinship.

The second declared that the Court of Judicial Review’s reexamination had established the Duke of Ying’s case as a miscarriage of justice caused by the Ministry of Justice’s failure to investigate properly. The ducal title and residence were restored. Furthermore, in recognition of his rescue of the emperor in the Western Hills, the duke’s son, Rong Jing, was appointed supreme commander of the Five Military Commissions and granted succession to the title of Duke of Ying.

The third edict consisted of two parts. The first enumerated the Prince Regent’s achievements, granted him the southwest as his fief, and conferred the honors of Specially Advanced Grand Master of Splendid Happiness, Pillar of State of the Right, and participant in military and state affairs. He was also granted the princely title of Jin.

The second detailed the late emperor’s incompetence and immorality. For his own selfish interests, he had brought destruction upon the loyal Rong and Xie families. In recognition of the Duke of Zhenguo’s distinguished service and his household’s unwavering loyalty, the Xie clan’s innocence was restored. The late duke was posthumously honored as “Duke of Loyal Valor and Defender of the Nation,” and the late Princess Weiguo as “Princess of Illustrious Virtue and Heroic Peace,” to console their spirits and set the record straight.

When the final edict had been read, the officials could scarcely spare a thought for how the title Prince of Jin—with its implications of succession—overstepped proper bounds. Their attention was entirely consumed by the condemnation of the late emperor.

Everyone knew the Xie family had met its tragic fate because its achievements had overshadowed the throne. But the culprit had been the late emperor. However wrong he had been, who dared speak of it? Who dared condemn him? Yet to clear the Xie clan’s name and vindicate Xie Yun, His Majesty had cast aside even the dignity of his predecessor and the imperial family. How could such a thing be tolerated?

Veteran ministers who had served through two reigns submitted memorials in protest. Even some who had retired to their hometowns declared that they would dash their heads against the pillars of Taiji Hall to defend the honor of the late emperor and the imperial house.

Song Liang knew their loyalty to the late emperor might not run so deep, nor did they necessarily believe the Xie family had rebelled. They merely wished to preserve their own reputations, in life and after death. If the late emperor had been wise, they were worthy ministers. If he had been incompetent, did that not make them sycophants?

Song Liang paid them no heed. More than that, he chose an auspicious day and hour to remove the late emperor’s spirit tablet from the ancestral temple, sending several elderly ministers into furious faints.

At the prince’s residence, Elder Xie read the edict and never again spoke of hanging himself before the palace’s main gate if Xie Yun entered it as empress. He merely warned that imperial affection must not breed arrogance, and that Xie Yun should encourage the emperor to attend diligently to government.

Xie Yun naturally agreed.

After such an uproar, no one remembered the empress’s investiture ceremony originally scheduled for the third month. Even those who did remember said nothing. His Majesty had removed his predecessor’s spirit tablet from the ancestral temple for the Prince Regent’s sake. Who knew what he might do if they pressed him to appoint an empress again?

There were scarcely any members of the Chen imperial family left anyway. Though His Majesty favored men, he favored only the Prince Regent. That could at least be called devotion.

Besides, the Prince Regent had openly demanded the position of empress before marching to war. If they forced His Majesty to choose someone else, he might truly rebel. Then Great Yao would change dynasties, and their own families might be put to death along with the old regime.

Better to let the matter rest.

By the middle of the fourth month, as His Majesty’s birthday approached, news of the so-called “auction” had spread throughout Great Yao. The invitations had risen in value following the Prince Regent’s southwestern victory. Wealthy merchants and people of unusual talents gathered in Yanjing, and on the night of the birthday celebration, they finally met the young emperor rumored to be involved with the Prince Regent.

They had expected a weak ruler who could only use his beauty to submit to another man. Instead, they encountered a spirited young sovereign whose commanding gaze inspired awe. His ministers treated him with deference; all around him submitted to his authority.

Even the Prince Regent—supposedly interested only in the emperor’s beauty and treating him as a plaything—sat below the imperial seat. Throughout the banquet, they smiled and spoke with easy familiarity. When their eyes met, there was neither the guarded distance of sovereign and subject nor any affected display. They seemed like an ordinary married couple.

Yet when they looked at others, they became entirely different men: one wearing an ambiguous smile that chilled the heart, the other cold as ice and enveloped in authority.

No one dared behave presumptuously.

After the banquet, the emperor kept several dozen guests behind for private conversations. Each eventually received an official post of modest standing. The wealthy merchants, meanwhile, were talked into joining something called the Imperial Merchants’ Association. Only when they sobered up the next day did they realize they had fallen into the young emperor’s trap. From then on, they were bound to the court’s fortunes, obliged to rack their brains for ways to generate gold and silver for the state treasury.

The gold and silver raised by auctioning invitations to the birthday banquet had, for once, made the treasury’s accounts look somewhat healthier. A minister seized the opportunity to submit a memorial arguing that the irrigation works could wait and that the money should instead be spent renovating the imperial mausoleum.

Song Liang scoffed. Even this body was not his own. Why should he care where it was buried after his death? With a wave of his hand, he ordered the Xiaoyi Guard to escort the funds to the various regions. He also decreed that anyone caught embezzling or diverting the money could be executed first and reported afterward.

In the eighth month of that year, persistent rain and torrential downpours across the south nearly brought disaster. Fortunately, the irrigation works had been completed in time, and the excess rainfall was stored in reservoirs. When severe drought struck in the tenth month, the stored water irrigated the fields, sustaining them until the next rain.

Taxes were halved that year. The people bowed toward distant Yanjing in gratitude.

Three years later, in autumn, the Hu advanced south. The emperor personally led three hundred thousand troops to war. He, the Prince Regent Xie Yun, and the Duke of Ying Rong Jing divided their forces into three armies and marched north to meet the enemy.

There, Song Liang encountered the protagonist gong he had not seen in so long: Helan Ze. Though surrounded by Hu warriors, he still wore conspicuous Han clothing. The sight was almost laughable.

3085 was profoundly shocked. It had never imagined that the protagonist gong, the great hero of the original novel, would join forces with the Hu.

Song Liang was not surprised at all. After all, he had personally driven the protagonist to this point. The Helan clan alone could not accommodate his ambitions, and Xie Yun had beaten the regional princes into submission. With no one else willing to cooperate, he could only turn to the Hu.

With the ambitious schemer Helan Ze assisting them, a war that had lasted three months in the original story dragged on for half a year. Only then was the Hu army’s fighting spirit finally broken, forcing them to retreat hastily beyond Mount Mule.

Helan Ze could only flee toward Longxi with his remaining followers. Once they had crossed the Li River, the bridge connecting the banks was cut down. Only then did the bedraggled Helan Ze finally stop and look back at Song Liang.

He saw not only Song Liang, but also the bright yellow imperial dragon standard and three hundred thousand troops behind him—and Xie Yun at his side.

Hatred nearly made him grind his teeth to pieces. All of that should have been his. Now it belonged to a lowly beggar.

He pointed across the river at Song Liang and shouted, “You stupid swine! He isn’t Chen Min! He’s Li Huai, a beggar! Are you all blind?”

No one answered.

Song Liang sat upright on horseback and regarded him coldly.

Helan Ze roared in fury, seized his bow, and fired at him. Almost simultaneously, Song Liang nocked an arrow and drew his own bow—but a piercing system alarm sounded in his ears.

【Warning! Host’s current characterization adherence: D. Instance difficulty increase: 97%. To prevent the main plot from collapsing, punishment will be administered to the host. Punishment level: A.】

His fingers stiffened again. Countless currents tore through his body, raising veins across his forehead. His bow arm shook violently, seemingly on the verge of giving way.

Yet beneath 3085’s disbelieving gaze, he held the string—and loosed the arrow.

Like that shot on the Western Hills cliff years before, the black-iron arrow split the incoming shaft and flew straight toward Helan Ze.

It struck flesh.

But someone had thrown himself in front of Helan Ze. The arrow pierced the man’s body and continued onward, having lost most of its force. It merely grazed Helan Ze’s shoulder.

Helan Ze’s pupils dilated, then contracted. Only after a long moment did he recover from the terror of his brush with death. Shoving the corpse aside, he burst into arrogant laughter.

“Do you see? This is Heaven’s will!”

【Beep! Current instance difficulty increase: 99%. The system has determined that the main mission has failed completely. To prevent the small world from collapsing, the host will be erased at the end of a ten-second countdown.】

【Nine, eight, seven—】

“Heaven wants me alive! Alive to take your worthless life!”

【Six, five, four—】

“To reclaim the throne that belongs to me—”

【Three, two—】

“Heaven’s will! This is Heaven’s will! Heaven wants me alive to kill you and reclaim my throne—”

A blade sliced through.

Before his boast was finished, Helan Ze’s laughing head tumbled from his horse to the ground. Dark red blood gushed from his severed neck. His headless body twitched briefly, then crashed down.

The shrill mechanical countdown stopped abruptly. The voice that followed was calm.

【Beep! Congratulations, Host. Hidden ending unlocked: I Am the Sovereign.】

【Current Grade-A instance, “Pillowing on Mountains and Rivers”: Instance difficulty, 27%. Keep up the good work, Host~】

【Congratulations on completing the side quest “Make Helan Ze Remember You Forever.” Current side-quest completion: 5/5.】

“…”

If a man was dead, how could that not count as forever?

The bow fell from Song Liang’s hand. Utterly drained, he slipped from the saddle. He heard 3085 shouting, but felt no panic.

He knew someone would catch him.

The next instant, he was gathered into a broad, warm embrace. An arm held him tightly against a chest. Beyond the hard armor beat a familiar, steady heart. Beneath the scents of windblown sand and blood lingered the crisp fragrance of snow and greenery.

“Is this Heaven’s punishment for killing him?”

The low voice beside his ear was perfectly calm, as though its owner had no idea how extraordinary his words were.

Resting against him, Song Liang answered, “Yes.”

Xie Yun looked across the river at Rong Jing, mounted with a blade in hand, his figure drenched in blood.

“Then you’ve made Heaven open its eyes.”

Song Liang could not help laughing.

3085, however, had crashed completely. How could it have forgotten the way its host’s mind worked?

The protagonist gong could not be killed.

The protagonist shou could not be killed.

Therefore, the protagonist shou could kill the protagonist gong.

Truly, the king of bugs.