Feng Wuzheng awoke in his Xianyang residence. Morning light streamed through the window lattice onto his bed, coloring the curling incense smoke as it rose. The ten-day fast was over; today was the day he would present himself before the King of Qin. Sitting up, he surveyed his surroundings and suddenly felt profoundly unfamiliar with his environment.In last night's dream, he was a child, nestled in his mother's arms within the palaces of the Feng Kingdom. Yet upon waking, his eyes met only Qin-style desks, cups, plates, and cabinets. Though he had resided here for the past fortnight, it felt as if he had slumbered for years. Now, he had to strain to recall the thirty years that spanned his childhood to the present, from the Feng Palace to the Qin residence.The room was filled with wooden carvings: his mother, grandmother, Grand Tutor, Junior Tutor, and Fox Yan—all carved by his own hands in recent days. There was also one of his father, but after sculpting the body, he suddenly lost the will to carve the face and abandoned it. He couldn't arouse the Qin King's suspicion, so he picked up the carvings of Deng Lingzi and Fox Yan and tossed them into the charcoal brazier.
When they departed Fengguo, it was late autumn; now, early winter had arrived. He changed clothes and washed, then opened the door to practice swordsmanship in the courtyard. Yet, as his hand touched the door ring, a sudden thought seized him. He braced his left hand against the door panel, gripped the ring with his right, and strained backward, stretching the right side of his body until the pain at his shoulder joint became unbearable.
So this was what being torn apart by chariots felt like...
Qin law decreed: those who assassinate the king shall be torn apart by chariots as a warning. Suddenly, he realized that everything he did today would be the last time in his life. So he gazed upon his homeland one final time, wielded his sword one last time, bathed one final time, and savored the fragrant rice of Guanzhong for the very last time.His father had promised someone would escort him home after assassinating the Qin ruler, but he never took it seriously. Sometimes he even wished it were a lie—for then, the former Crown Prince of Feng would be remembered in history as one who sacrificed his life for righteousness, not as a coward.
By the time the sun turned from crimson to gold, everything was prepared, awaiting only the palace carriage to collect him. He opened the wooden box. Fox Yan's head lay still within, slightly decayed yet still lifelike. The thought that Fox Yan would accompany him on this final journey brought him some peace.
You have entrusted me with your life; I shall not betray your trust.
At noon, Feng Wuzheng stood before the front hall of Xianyang Palace, placing the wooden box upon the table as he awaited the guards' search. The ancient knight-errant's loyalty, righteousness, and valor surged within him once more, yet this time he suppressed it.Years ago, after secretly releasing the Feathered Man, he had felt the same surge of bloodlust, only to see it drain away completely the moment he laid eyes on Ying Zheng. Today, he wished his heart to be still as water—neither rising nor falling, without a single ripple. Gazing out through the window, he watched the cold wind toss bare branches wildly, fallen leaves swirling with flocks of birds.The Eastern Palace of the Crown Prince rose above the palace walls, its roof half exposed, sometimes cloaked in cloud shadows, sometimes bathed in golden light. Returning to this place after more than a decade, memories flashed back rapidly. He seemed to hear again the lashes of the whip and the blows of the cane from that summer long ago; and that long stone path where the Grand Tutor, bare-chested and bound, a noose around his neck, had run from the palace gate to the main hall.Who dwells there now? Ying Zheng had yet to name a crown prince—could the chamber truly be empty? Whoever it was, he wished to meet the child, to tell him his father would die by his hand today, to advise him to become a good ruler, not to follow the ways of his forefathers. Suddenly, remorse gripped him—he himself had never known a father's affection, yet now he would deprive another of his. A truly benevolent man would never do such a thing.
A eunuch pushed open the door, approached the desk, and opened the household registers and topographical maps of Fengguo for inspection. He gently lifted the lid of the wooden box, glanced inside briefly before closing it again. Then he searched Wu Zheng's person, finding only a small wooden carving in his robe. After returning it, he signaled for Wu Zheng to proceed.Wuzheng clutched the wooden box to his chest once more. A minor official picked up the map album and followed behind. The box had been crafted by the Mohists while in Tongbai County. According to Master Denglingzi, it contained a mechanism capable of taking Ying Zheng's life. Yet the Master had never explicitly revealed what kind of mechanism it was, where it was placed, or how to activate it.Wu Zheng knew nothing about any of this. The box was perfectly square, barely large enough to hold its contents with no extra space; its walls were thin and narrow, showing no signs of hidden compartments. He couldn't imagine where the mechanism might be concealed. But since the Master hadn't revealed it, there must be a reason. Puzzling over it now would be futile; he'd simply have to improvise when the time came.
Passing through the front hall, the main palace loomed over him, filling his entire field of vision. Its nine-tiered base, each level three zhang high, supported three parallel halls. They resembled towering peaks reaching for the heavens, or a colossal wave crashing toward him.Twenty years prior, upon his first visit, he had stood at the base of the steps, gazing upward in puzzlement. Why build a residence so high, he wondered, needlessly exhausting its inhabitants? When he finally entered the Qin palace, he was so breathless he could scarcely read the diplomatic letter properly, provoking uproarious laughter from the officials and utterly compromising his nation's dignity. Only then did he grasp the truth: this mountain-like platform was designed to crush the spirit of any envoy.Now, as he climbed the steps once more, halfway up his attendant gasped for breath, pleading for him to slow down. Yet his own breathing remained steady, his heartbeat unruffled. He couldn't help but smile bitterly—a lifetime of tempering had not been in vain.
West of the main hall lay the Qin Ancestral Temple, the place for audience. The temple doors stood open. Wuzheng paused in astonishment at the sight before him—Ying Zheng lay reclining behind a wooden desk, his stature tall and slender, his elbow resting on a support, eyes closed in a brief repose.The temple was largely shrouded in darkness, sunlight filtered through the windows, leaving only a few strands to fall upon Ying Zheng's wide sleeves. The black ceremonial robe highlighted the golden embroidery, where azure dragons and phoenixes seemed poised to leap forth.Wu Zheng felt as if facing a divine shrine. The open gates of the ancestral temple framed a square chamber, its central altar honoring not the Supreme Heavenly Emperor, but the wise, martial, and brilliantly strategic King of Qin, Ying Zheng. Had the minor official not cleared his throat, Wu Zheng might not have snapped out of his stupor. He straightened his robes and stepped into the temple.
Ying Zheng stirred awake at the sound, lazily straightening his body, his eyes still half-closed. Wuzheng set down the wooden box, knelt, and bowed:
"Prince Wuzheng of Feng, bearing the mandate to surrender to Qin. I humbly present the state letter for Your Majesty's judgment!"
The humble servant presented the letter, which Ying Zheng opened to read:
"Your humble servant, Feng Zhao, the guilty minister of the small state of Feng, humbly seeks mercy from the great nation: Great Qin received the Mandate of Heaven to replace the Zhou dynasty. Wherever its military might reaches, none can withstand it. The state of Feng dares not resist stubbornly. We beg to offer our entire nation as vassals, to pay tribute and perform duties like a commandery or county. We only wish to be granted permission to preserve the ancestral temples of our former kings.Out of fear and humility, we dare not speak for ourselves. We respectfully present the severed head of Fox Yan, along with the household registers and maps of the Feng state. Our eldest son shall serve as envoy to announce this. Our survival or demise rests entirely in Your Majesty's hands. We dare not fail to come forward, bound and shackled, to receive your command."
After reading this, Ying Zheng burst into laughter and said:
"The Feng Kingdom is descended from Fuxi. Why such servile words? Moreover, we have known each other for ten years—how could I refuse? Rise, Prince!"
Only then did Wuzheng lift his forehead from the floor, though he remained too terrified to meet the Qin King's gaze. By this time, the attendant had already laid cushions on the outer side of the table, placing the wooden chest, household registers, and maps upon it alongside the wine vessels.
"Today, I have dismissed all officials and prepared this banquet solely for the reunion of old friends. My lord, please do not feel constrained. Take your seat and drink with me."
"Your Majesty's remembrance of our old friendship leaves me both honored and overwhelmed."
Wuzheng bowed twice with his head to the ground, then rose, clasped his hands in a respectful salute, eyes fixed on the floor. He hurried several steps and sat upon the mat. With a wave of Ying Zheng's hand, the attendant withdrew, closing the temple doors behind him. Only the two of them remained within the ancestral hall. Did the King of Qin not fear Wuzheng might harm him, leaving him alone in this chamber?Wu Zheng understood him as clearly as a mirror: Ying Zheng knew him too well. He was a coward—one who dared to cause trouble but lacked the courage to take responsibility, who had burdened his master, served his enemies, failed to avenge his mother's death, fled from danger, and now came bearing the severed head of his dear friend as a token of surrender. Such a man could never risk his life for an assassination.
Ying Zheng continued:
"When Your Highness was unjustly stripped of the crown prince title, I was preparing to urge the late king to send troops, escorting you back to claim the throne. Yet you departed without a word—how regrettable. Had you stayed, you would have become the Wind King by now!"
"Wuzheng deeply appreciates Your Majesty's kindness. Yet regardless of who rules Feng Kingdom, it remains but a single commandery of Great Qin—no difference at all."
Ying Zheng paused in surprise at first, then burst into hearty laughter. His laughter echoed toward the temple roof, rebounded back, and reverberated up and down, pounding against Wuzheng's eardrums. Ying Zheng drained his cup, rested his hand on the wooden casket, and traced its grain:
"In years past, Fox Yan and you shared a bond as close as brothers. To slay him and bring his head before me—does this not make you resent Qin?"
"How could I dare, Lord Ying Zheng! Hu Yan brought shame upon the Qin court; I deeply regret ever associating with him. He fled to the Kingdom of Feng, relying on our past connection, but fortunately, my father captured him. An enemy of Qin is an enemy of Feng. Thus, I executed him and presented his head to Your Majesty. This is a blessing for our humble state—how could I harbor resentment?"
Another burst of hearty laughter erupted. Ying Zheng rose to his feet, one hand gripping the wine jug, the other holding a cup. He turned and walked backward.Wu Zheng, who had been staring intently at the ground two feet before him, finally glanced up and took in the Grand Temple at a glance: the central altar enshrined the spirit tablets of Qin's successive kings, while below lay prostrate the spirit tablets of the three conquered states;Two rows of candles burned on either side, while a scroll depicting the "Unification of the Four Seas" hung from the temple ceiling. The heat from the flames made the scroll flutter as if in a gentle breeze, occasionally rustling with a soft whoosh. On the floor ahead, nine bronze tripods stood in a straight line. As Wuzheng marveled at the origin of the Nine Tripods, Ying Zheng had already reached the left end and spoke:
"These are the Nine Tripods cast by the great Yu. Originally housed in the Zhou capital Luoyi, I have relocated them here since conquering the Zhou dynasty." He then proceeded from left to right, explaining the territories each tripod represented: Ji, Yan, Qing, Xu,Yong, Yang, Jing, Yu, and Liang. Among these, Yongzhou, the ancestral domain of Qin, occupied the central position. Pointing to the Map of the Four Seas United above, he elaborated on establishing commanderies and counties across the former territories of the feudal lords, launching northern campaigns against the Xiongnu and southern expeditions against the Baiyue tribes, constructing the Great Wall, and paving the imperial highways—all endeavors destined to endure for millennia.Ying Zheng spoke while drinking, tracing his words with his fingers, while Wuzheng listened and nodded in agreement. He now understood why the King of Qin had chosen the ancestral temple for this banquet—ostensibly to celebrate old friendships, but truly to boast of his military achievements.
Ying Zheng then returned to his seat before the table, set down the wine flask, and motioned for Wuzheng to pour himself a cup:
"Today, the world is fragmented by differing measures and chaotic scripts, making communication between regions exceedingly difficult. I shall abolish all foreign systems, unifying the realm under Qin's laws—standardizing writing and aligning wheel tracks. I will dismantle fortified cities and passes, eliminating all heroes and knights to eradicate the seeds of rebellion."
He then took a sip of wine and continued:
"Once I have swept across the realm, all under heaven's light shall submit. My virtue surpasses the Three Sovereigns, my achievements exceed the Five Emperors. I shall proclaim myself the First Emperor. My descendants—the Second, Third, and all generations henceforth—shall bear no posthumous titles. No subject shall debate his sovereign, no son question his father. What do you think, Prince?"
The man before Wuzheng held his wine cup, speaking with unrestrained fervor, his words flowing like a torrent. He was utterly absorbed in his dream of conquering the four seas, unaware that his life hung by a thread.Wu Zheng raised his eyes to look at him. His appearance had scarcely changed from a decade ago, save for ten more years etched upon his face. His complexion had grown darker, his facial angles sharper—as if blades had been carved into his features—making him resemble his father in middle age even more closely.Wu Zheng recalled the rumors and the tale of Fox Yan swapping Ying Yiren's corpse—any who had seen both men would dismiss it as nonsense. But centuries later, who would remember their faces? Thus, though his words were meek, a flicker of satisfaction rose within him: not only did he hold the man's life in his hands, but his posthumous reputation too. How pitiful that the man himself remained utterly unaware.
After more boastful talk, Ying Zheng was already five parts drunk. He reached across the table with his left hand, cupping Wu Zheng's nape and pulling him closer. Wu Zheng leaned forward, his head slowly drawing nearer.Wu Zheng dared not resist, and so their heads touched at the edge of the table. The stench of wine from Ying Zheng's breath hit Wu Zheng's face, and then he began to speak in a low, muffled voice, as if unburdening a secret guarded for years—a secret not even the bricks, tiles, and wooden pillars of this temple could know, much less the spirit tablets behind him:
"Do you know how many of my own kin I've slain for this empire?"
"I do not." Wu Zheng closed his eyes, held his breath, and forced out two words through clenched teeth.
The first to die was my Grand Tutor Lü Buwei. Having said this, Ying Zheng slowly released his grip and sat back down on the mat. Only when Ying Zheng's breath left Wu Zheng's face did the tension in his body finally release. Ying Zheng continued:
"You had a teacher, Prince, and so did I. You came to Qin as a hostage at sixteen; I was born a hostage. Later, my father fled alone back to Qin to become Crown Prince, abandoning us—a widow and her orphaned son—to be trampled upon. Only through Master Lü Buwei's constant support did my mother and I survive to return home and reunite.Some say I am Master Lü's son—utter nonsense! We bear not a single resemblance! Yet I shall honor him as my teacher for life. But what of him? While my father still lived, he crawled into my mother's bed. So I poisoned him to death."
Ying Zheng grew increasingly impassioned as he spoke. Grabbing another jug of fresh wine, he staggered unsteadily toward the spirit tablet of the late King Ying Yi:
"Father! You abandoned me and Mother back then. I didn't understand it before, but now I see—for this throne, it was worth it!"
With that, Ying Zheng flung the jug upward, splashing wine onto the tablet and drenching the nearby red candles, nearly extinguishing their flames. He began pacing the ancestral temple again, staggering as he walked and muttering:
"Then there was Lü Buwei. Relying on his physical prowess, he too sought to be my father, crawling beneath my mother's silk quilt and calling himself the 'false father.' The two hid in Yongcheng, producing two bastard sons in three years, and demanded I acknowledge them as my brothers.Ha! Not only will I never acknowledge them, but I shall issue an imperial decree declaring all such children illegitimate—no one born of the same mother but different fathers shall be considered brothers!"
Ying Zheng suddenly leapt to his feet, gesturing with his hands to indicate size:
"I had those two children stuffed into sacks and thrown to their deaths! When they died, the elder was this big, and the younger was this small! Thud! Thud! Thud! Three times! Their brains splattered, blood gushing from every orifice! Ha ha ha ha! Thrilling! Absolutely thrilling!"
He slapped his thigh, laughing until he doubled over. When his breath steadied, he raised his head to the sky and declared:
"Mother! You helped Lü Buwei usurp my throne. I didn't understand it before, but now I see—for that monstrosity, it was worth it!"
He turned to Wuzheng:
"If you'd come two years earlier, young master, that monster's penis would've been on display in Xianyang Market. Women said they'd die happy just to try it. Too bad you're late—you'll never see it!"
He gulped down a mouthful of wine and continued:
"Then I locked my mother away. When doctors tried to dissuade me, I had them all killed—twenty-seven of them. By the twenty-eighth, one showed some courage, saying this would alienate the people and harm our grand unification. Only then did I release her. What a pity! Had the realm been unified, I would have imprisoned her until death."
By now, Ying Zheng had slipped behind Wuzheng. Suddenly leaning close, he whispered in his ear: "She dwells in Ganquan Palace now. If you cannot tell which one she is, just listen—the lewd sounds drifting through the walls will reveal her."
Wu Zheng felt as if stabbed by those words, involuntarily drawing his neck back. The skin at the base of his skull felt numb, and every hair on his body stood on end. Ever since Ying Zheng had launched into his impassioned, self-forgetful discourse, a bone-chilling dread had seeped into his very being. He didn't know what he feared—he had long cast life and death aside, and this journey held nothing to dread.The exhilaration he'd felt earlier, wielding the power over others' lives, had vanished into thin air, leaving only uncontrollable tremors.
"Then there was Cheng Jiao, my younger half-brother. That boy took rumors at face value and actually tried to seize my position as Crown Prince. So during that hunting expedition—you were there too—I had him imprisoned. He needn't have died; a few years as a convict would have sufficed. But he escaped and joined forces with a border commander in rebellion. After several battles, he was utterly annihilated. Foolish boy, why did it have to end like that...
Finally, there was my uncle, Lord Xiong Qi of Changping. Originally a prince of Chu, I elevated him to Chancellor, married his sister as Queen, and sent him to pacify the newly conquered Chu territories. Yet he too turned against me!I had his entire family in Xianyang torn apart by chariots—even my own consort was not spared. Those dismembered remains displayed in the city square... She was the very mother of my son, Fusu! Alas, how deeply I have failed my son! By the time the alchemists found the elixir of immortality for this king, even the throne could not be passed to him."
Ying Zheng sat down opposite Wuzheng again, leaning forward to ask him, "Young Master, tell me—did Fusu hate me?"
"How could a son ever hate his father?"
"Your father usurped your position as heir and murdered your mother. Do you not hate him?"
Wu Zheng had already reached his limit enduring Ying Zheng's deranged ramblings. This question struck him like a blow to the head, making stars dance before his eyes and his ears ring. A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant, yet he could grasp none of them. He could only stammer out:
"My mother passed away from illness. It had nothing to do with my father."
Ying Zheng clapped his hands and burst into laughter. He no longer bothered to feign restraint. His laughter was no longer the resonant clang of a great bell, but rather a shrill, cackling, gurgling, chattering sound, like the chirping of birds.
"Feng Rang, Feng Rang, why deceive yourself? Lady Tian enjoyed the King's favor, so she slandered and harmed your revered mother, Lady Han. After Lady Han's death, the King immediately made Lady Tian his Queen and designated her son, Feng Ke, as Crown Prince. Your mother's death was clearly orchestrated by your father. Could you truly be unaware?"
The cocoon Wu Zheng had spent over a decade weaving for himself was torn apart by Ying Zheng's words in an instant. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He had been sitting upright, maintaining his composure despite numb legs and feet. Now, he crossed his legs, snatched the wine flask, filled a cup to the brim, and downed it in one gulp. Seeing his state, Ying Zheng added:
"Prince, there is no need for sorrow. Once I take control of the Feng Kingdom and slay this mother and son to avenge you, what say you? By then, the Feng King will be but a commoner. Should you wish to eliminate him, simply give the order."
Struck to the core, Wuzheng could hold back no longer. He collapsed onto the table, burying his face in his sleeves as he wailed uncontrollably. Tears streamed down his cheeks, flooding his chest and rolling over his shoulders. Ying Zheng leaned over him, gripping his shoulders tightly with both hands:
"We are two souls sharing the same sorrow. Had you not come here today, to whom could I pour out this heartache?"
Then the two embraced and wept together, their wails mingling into one heartrending mass. They cried until tears and snot streamed down their faces, moving even the gods and spirits.
After an unknown span of time, the two finally stemmed their tears, smoothed their robes, and sat apart. The torrential weeping seemed to have cleansed Feng Wuzheng from the inside out. He was a different man from the one who had first entered the ancestral temple; the resolute determination he had carried upon arrival had been largely washed away with his tears.Did he truly have to obey his father's command? For the man who had sentenced his mother to death, who had stripped him of his position as heir, who had cast him into a deadly exile thousands of miles away? Why couldn't he live solely for himself, like Ying Zheng? Ten years ago, he had chosen to flee. Could he still turn back now?Moreover, he had never imagined Ying Zheng regarded him as a confidant. After such heartfelt sincerity today, how could he possibly bring himself to harm him? His peripheral vision caught sight of Fox Yan's headbox, plunging his heart into turmoil.
Yet it was not only Wuzheng who seemed like a different person after his outburst of grief; Ying Zheng too had changed. After venting his emotions, he no longer wore the same intensity. His face shifted from sorrow to cunning.
"I hear you carry a wooden carving of your birth mother with you. Might I see it?"
Wuzheng dared not delay, immediately retrieving it from his bosom and presenting it with both hands to the King of Qin. The king took it with one hand, leaning back against the armrest. As he examined it closely, he remarked:
"Truly a beauty. I hear your mother was the legitimate daughter of the Korean royal house, far surpassing my own mother—who was but a singer. Tell me, is it only singers who are promiscuous, or do the daughters of royalty and nobility behave thus as well?"
Seeing Ying Zheng turn the carving over and over in his hands, Wu Zheng felt a surge of disgust. Now, with the King's lewd remarks, anger welled up within him. "Your Majesty is drunk," he said. "Please return the carving."
Ying Zheng paid him no mind and continued:
"You carve truly well! I too often wish to erect a statue for my mother, yet I can never decide on the proper posture. Whenever I close my eyes, all I see is my mother's seductive poses with men." He leaned closer to ask Wuzheng, "Could it be that Grand Tutor Feng Zhong and your mother had no private affair? Since she was not favored by your father, how could she endure such loneliness?"
Blood rushed to Wuzheng's temples. Raising his voice three octaves, he formally requested the carving's return. Unexpectedly, Ying Zheng replied with a sinister grin: "Why anger yourself, young master? Let us play a game. If you win, I shall return it. What say you?"
Before Wuzheng could reply, Ying Zheng continued, "Your teacher took punishment for his master—loyalty incarnate. My teacher conspired with my mother. This round is yours." He dipped his fingertip in wine and drew a vertical line on the tabletop beside Wuzheng.
"Your brother sought to harm you, and my brother sought to harm me. But my brother could not overcome me, while your brother could overcome you. This round is mine!"
A vertical line appeared on Ying Zheng's side of the table.
"Your father did not love you, nor did mine love me—a draw. But... my father left me a vast empire, while yours condemned his descendants to commoner status. This round is mine!"
He drew another line and added, "Your mother was a hundred times better than mine. You win one round."
Now there were two marks on each side of the tabletop.
"Final round: When you were held hostage, you were bullied. I was bullied too." Ying Zheng dipped both hands in ink, poised to mark a line on each side for a tie. But his hands froze mid-air. He looked at Wuzheng and declared, "But I avenged myself. You never could!I win!" No sooner had he finished marking his side than Ying Zheng seemed possessed, erupting into a fit of maniacal laughter. He coughed and retched until gasping for breath, taking a long moment to recover. Then, in a hushed voice, he revealed his second secret of the day:
"Those Zhao nobles who bullied us—my mother and me—I buried them all alive. I played this game with the royal families of other states too; anyone who beat me, I killed."
Twenty years later, Wu Zheng suddenly understood: the humiliation he endured as a youth was meant to repay Ying Zheng's childhood suffering. But Ying Zheng was wrong—revenge was not beyond his reach.
The golden sunbird drew the sun from the southern gate to the western window; a low-hanging speck of light flickered on the silk-covered window, its rays shifting from golden yellow to dark red, then pale blue, until finally fading beneath the torchlight, leaving not a trace of shadow.The hour had come. Feng Wuzheng shed all traces of emotion, his brow and eyes now etched with resolve. He moved his seat back a foot, clasped his hands in a bow, and declared solemnly:
"It is getting late. Your Majesty, please inspect the head of the traitor Fox Yan." With that, he bowed low to the ground.
Ying Zheng, reminded, shifted his gaze to the wooden box. His eyes gleamed as if beholding the crowning dish at a banquet. He rubbed his hands together, slowly lifting the lid. The instant he saw Hu Yan's face, he burst into laughter.Setting the lid aside, he reached into the box, grasped the skull by its ears, and raised it to eye level. Examining it closely, he addressed the deceased:
"Young Master Fox Yan, we meet again. Nine years have passed—how did you become so gaunt? Could it be the labor of a convict was too harsh?"
As he spoke, Ying Zheng cradled the head in his arms, resting his own chin against its forehead. He gently stroked its cheeks as if soothing an infant, murmuring:
"Yet your graceful and handsome spirit could never be so easily extinguished. Though your form is now decayed, your essence remains. It is merely that I, the ruler, am unworthy to enjoy it."
After holding it for a while, he straightened his arms to gaze at it from a distance, saying:
"If the Fox Prince has a spirit in heaven, tell me this: how did you escape death back then? After swallowing a cup of poison and being buried ten zhang deep beneath the earth, you still managed to flee. Could it be divine aid? I cannot fathom it... Ah! Ah! Aaaah!"
Ying Zheng suddenly let out a piercing scream, his voice cracking with terror, shrill and raspy like a chicken awaiting slaughter. Turning to look at Fox Yan's head, he saw that the eye sockets were now empty, replaced by two iron arrows pointing straight at his own face.
Feng Wuzheng slowly rose to his feet, picked up the wine flask from Ying Zheng's side, poured himself a cup, and sipped it slowly while savoring Ying Zheng's comical state:He cradled the head in both hands before him, not daring to move an inch. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, his cheeks twitched alternately, and two bright spots shone on his cheekbones—the reflections of the sharp arrowheads catching the candlelight.
"A mechanical crossbow? How does it fire?" Ying Zheng was utterly terrified, his voice thick with panic.
"I do not know. Perhaps it is triggered by sound, or by tilting, or by a button. Your Majesty, do not move lightly."
"I invited you alone into the ancestral temple, trusting you completely. And now you seek to harm me?" Ying Zheng forced the words out through clenched teeth, his voice lowered, lowered still, fearing he might trigger the mechanism. His face flushed crimson, his teeth grinding audibly.Wu Zheng watched his flustered state, already amused, and upon hearing his words, found himself both laughing and crying. When had Ying Zheng ever trusted him?He was like a fierce tiger who, having easily captured a lamb, would inevitably toy with it between his claws before finally snapping its throat. Otherwise, where would the thrill of the hunt lie? The Wind King had escaped the humiliation of being bound and led like a sheep, which must have dampened Ying Zheng's spirits. The Feng Wuzheng before him now seemed like a breach in a hundred-mile river dike, destined to bear the full brunt of Ying Zheng's venting.
Seeing Wuzheng's silence, Ying Zheng pressed further:
"For whom did you kill me, Prince? For the Wind King? For Fox Yan? Feng Zhong? Yourself? Or for..."
"For the world!" Wuzheng cut him off. As he spoke, he circled behind Ying Zheng to examine the row of bronze cauldrons. In that moment, he was the most leisurely man alive, surveying the Nine Provinces' sacred artifacts from left to right, scrutinizing every inscription and ornamentation. Next, he turned to the divine rulers of each state on the central altar, then to the Map of the Four Seas United hanging above.Yet the voice behind him belonged to the most anxious man in the world— . Ying Zheng still clutched Fox Yan's severed head, staring at the two sharp arrows embedded in its eye sockets. He tried shifting his weight ever so slightly, but the arrows jutted forward a hair's breadth, as if poised to launch. Thus, save for his tongue, not a muscle dared move. He said:
"A vast empire awaits me—an empire bought with countless lives! I cannot die! The alchemists have sailed to seek the Elixir of Immortality. Success is within reach. I cannot die!"
He swallowed hard and continued:
"Even if I die, my son Fusu will unify the realm. Then he will eradicate the Feng clan, burying you all alive—leaving not a single one of your kind! Feng Wuzheng, do you think you'll walk out of Xianyang Palace alive? Assassins face dismemberment by chariot. You've been a coward all your life—suddenly fearless now?"
Wuzheng, worn down by the incessant ranting, sat back down across the table. He watched as beads of sweat the size of beans rolled down Ying Zheng's cheeks, saw him mustering every ounce of strength into his arms to brace himself. He said:
"Your Highness, you have oppressed the feudal lords and slaughtered the people. Your death today comes too late. I know everything about the matter concerning Hu Yan. Back then, the three of us were all in Xianyang. Hu Yan was young and innocent, regarding Your Highness as an elder brother. Yet you, Your Highness, used treacherous schemes to dishonor him. Heaven spared his life, allowing him to seek vengeance through my hand. What more can Your Highness say?"
With that, Wuzheng reached for the sword at Ying Zheng's waist, only to be halted by his shout:
"Hold! You claim to slay me for the sake of the realm, yet I have rendered great service to the world! Since ancient times, no sovereign has ruled the four seas for ages. The Zhou dynasty has declined, its edicts no longer issued from the royal domain. The feudal lords wage ceaseless warfare, plunging the common people into misery. I, the ruler, pity all living beings and thus raised an army to punish and destroy the tyrants. How can you bear to kill me alone and extinguish the hopes of ten thousand families?"
"Well said, 'crushing tyrants'!" Wuzheng pointed at the household registry on the table. "Though Feng is small, this ledger once recorded a population of a million. Now only eighty remain.Where have these twenty thousand Feng people gone, if not perished by Qin's armies? In ancient warfare, ritual restraint tempered the sword—striking for justice, not conquest. Though battles were frequent, casualties were few. Yet when Your Majesty wages war, you annihilate entire armies, obliterate enemy states, leaving valleys filled with corpses and rivers red with blood wherever you tread.Since your father and you ascended the throne, comets have repeatedly appeared, earthquakes have shaken Guanzhong, locusts have darkened the skies, and floods and droughts have plagued the land. This has led to widespread epidemics across the four seas, followed by great famine. Amidst this desolation, Qin deems the death toll insufficient and intensifies its campaigns, raising vast armies to slaughter the common people.None in the realm surpasses Qin in its extreme cruelty and tyranny. How dare you speak of boiling and annihilating the violent and oppressive!
"How could I desire to kill? Our Qin state is governed with integrity and clarity. The common people all receive instruction, diligently weave and farm, obey laws and decrees, and do not indulge in debauchery.I desire all under heaven to become Qin subjects, all to bask in our benevolence—what wrong is there in that? Alas, the other states stubbornly resist with their strength, inviting their own destruction. I have no choice but to reluctantly carry out these killings, so that the survivors may enjoy the same peace and happiness as the people of Qin. Exterminating you is for your own good—why do you not understand?"
Stunned, Wuzheng choked on his wine and began coughing, startling the Qin King considerably. Ying Zheng's childhood had been filled with tragedy and betrayal by those closest to him, leaving deep scars on his heart. Wuzheng could empathize with this pain, but this twisted logic of "killing you for your own good" still shocked him profoundly.Fearing delays might invite complications, Wu Zheng intended to act swiftly. Yet he could not let the man die without understanding. Biding his time, he asked:
"Your Majesty, do you believe the people of Qin live in peace and contentment? Under Qin law, the common folk hear no music, taste no sweet wine, and are forbidden all games, horses, and dogs. Those at home toil ceaselessly in farming and weaving, while those abroad labor year-round. Tens of thousands of convicts build palaces and tombs, and every man from fifteen to sixty serves in the army.Harsh laws prevail: those debating state affairs are exiled to the frontiers; those discarding ashes have their feet amputated; the idle become slaves. One offender brings guilt upon ten households. Denunciations flourish, kin betray kin—so that all citizens seal their lips three times tight, communicating on roads only with glances. Among all states, none oppresses its people more cruelly than Your Majesty. To you, the people of Qin are not human beings, but cattle and horses—tools for conquest and warfare."
Taking a sip of wine, Wuzheng continued:
"Your Majesty, do you believe the people east of the Passes wish to be subjects of Qin? Since Shang Yang offered land grants and exemption from labor duties to attract outsiders, how many have entered the Passes in a century? Wherever Qin's armies have marched, has a single state's people ever opened their gates to welcome the royal forces? The people of Shangdang, unwilling to become Qin subjects, surrendered their entire city to Zhao. After the fall of Zhou, its people fled eastward rather than enter Qin.Of the three states Qin conquered—Shu, Ba, and Zhou—did any remain loyal? Since Qin emerged from Hangu Pass, the eastern states have fought when they could, fled when they couldn't, and rebelled when escape was impossible. They would never become Qin subjects unless utterly forced. Your Highness's kindness is something we simply cannot accept."
"If Qin's governance is so deplorable, how then does it consistently triumph in battle and subjugate the feudal states?"
"Your Majesty monopolizes all industries. Those who do not earn their bread by the sword go hungry. The people of Qin have become beasts, morality crumbles, and tyranny reigns. That humans cannot withstand beasts is no surprise. Yet, the more wars Qin wages, the more victories it claims, the deeper the suffering of its people."
"If the Qin people suffer so terribly, why haven't they rebelled?"
"At present, the Qin people plunder lands east of the Passes—seizing territory, wealth, and people—gaining benefits from abroad. Thus they endure harsh laws and severe punishments.Once the realm is unified, the common folk will find no profit. When Your Majesty grows complacent and indulges in extravagance, squeezing every last drop from the people, how can they not rebel? Then, Your Majesty's ancestral temples will be destroyed, your body will fall into enemy hands, and you will become a laughingstock to all under heaven."
Nonsense! I am benevolent and merciful. Once I have pacified the four seas, I shall surely reduce taxes and levies, allowing the people to rest and recover. How could I indulge in extravagance? Moreover, the feudal lords will be annihilated. As for the common folk—mere ants—even if they rebel, how could they possibly withstand the might of my Qin army? It is utterly impossible!Our Qin Empire shall endure for ten thousand generations, as eternal as heaven and earth!"
Wuzheng sneered coldly. "Qin follows the Legalist doctrine, relying on the Five Arts of Governance to control the people. Do you truly believe this will change after unification? I refuse to believe it." He saw no point in further argument. With a swift motion, he drew the precious sword from Ying Zheng's waist, murmured, "Fine blade," and thrust it toward him.
"Hold! Hold! I have more to say!" Ying Zheng gasped, halting Wuzheng once more. "Your words ring true, Prince. Qin's governance does have flaws, yet these are unavoidable measures for now. At this critical juncture of unifying the four seas, policies and laws must not be altered—lest all prior efforts be lost!I promise that once our great mission is accomplished, I shall abolish oppressive policies and cease draining the people's strength. As for the palace and mausoleum, I order their construction halted immediately. I shall pardon all convicts and reduce punishments. Any other measures to benefit the people—I am ready to implement them all, at your command!"
"So then, does this mean we cease fighting the Xiongnu and Baiyue tribes? Abandon the Great Wall and imperial highways? Preserve the fortified cities and strategic passes of the states? Spare the lives of heroes and chivalrous warriors? Your Highness has ruled with tyranny for so long—it may prove difficult to change overnight."
"Your lack of faith in me matters not. On the day the realm is unified, I shall immediately abdicate in favor of Prince Fusu. My son's benevolence matches your own; he will surely show the people kindness. Thus, the realm need endure but a few more years of war before the weapons are laid down forever, and the common folk gain a compassionate ruler. Would this not satisfy both ends?If you kill me now and disrupt the momentum of unification, all the souls lost in past wars will have died in vain, and the realm will plunge back into endless conflict! Decades later, who can guarantee no one will reignite wars of conquest? This cycle of destruction would never end—where would the suffering of the people cease? You are not killing me; you are killing all the people of the realm!"
Upon hearing these words, Wuzheng sought to refute them, yet found himself unable to speak. Suddenly, he recalled the words spoken by the Qin envoy Xiang Lizǐ in Jiangcheng—words that had left Deng Lingzi speechless: "Unification is a permanent solution. Is it not far superior to endless strife among the states, lasting for ten thousand years?"Yesterday, while pondering in the guesthouse, Wuzheng believed he had found the counterargument. Yet he never anticipated Ying Zheng would willingly cede the throne to Prince Fusu.He had held Fox Yan's words as truth: whether unified or not, as long as Ying Zheng remained Qin's ruler and employed Legalist methods, the people would never know peace. But if Fusu ascended the throne and abandoned Legalism, would not the realm gain both an end to warfare and a wise ruler—a perfect solution? If so, what harm would there be in sparing Ying Zheng's life if he kept his word?
Seeing Wuzheng lower his head in deep thought, Ying Zheng glimpsed a glimmer of hope and hastily added:
"If Your Highness insists on ceasing hostilities immediately, that too may be acceptable.Simply spare my life, and I will willingly return the lands seized from the feudal lords, never to invade again. I swear by Heaven, by the Wei River, by the spirits of my ancestors, and by the blood oath sealed in the earth—I shall never go back on my word! Once the occupied territories are returned, even if Your Highness demands I abdicate the throne, I shall comply!"
Ying Zheng recalled his own nature of avoiding conflict and his character, and said again:
"My lord need not fear for your life. What transpired within these temple walls remains between us alone. When the gates open, I shall remember only the debt of your mercy in sparing my life, and I dare not break my word to seek vengeance. Having reclaimed the invaded lands, your mission is fulfilled. Why subject yourself to such cruel punishment? Do you not wish to live out your days in peace, enjoying family happiness?The fate of both our lives rests entirely in your hands!" As Ying Zheng spoke these words, tears streamed down his face. Unable to wipe them away with his hands, he let the wetness stain his robes. His throat constricted, his voice breaking into sobs he could barely suppress. Yet he dared not move too much, enduring the agony as if under torture.
Upon hearing the words "excruciating punishment," Wu Zheng felt a sudden, inexplicable pain surge through the junction of his right shoulder and arm. This ache stirred something within his otherwise clear mind, stirring up long-buried remnants. Watching Ying Zheng's pitiful, pleading expression, a wave of pity gradually welled up within him.He began to pace, hands clasped behind his back, his front teeth digging deeply into his lower lip. His gaze was repeatedly drawn to the sobbing sounds coming from beside him. All his life, he had believed himself alone in the world, clinging to life and fearing death, incapable of sacrificing his life for righteousness. Yet, if the ruler of the Great Qin were not bound by protocol, he would likely have prostrated himself ten times before him in that very moment.In his imagination before coming, the Qin King would surely face death with a clear conscience, cursing his enemies with righteous indignation, and departing with dignity befitting a sovereign. Yet who was this tearful figure before him? His heart softened—not only for Ying Zheng, but for himself as well.
"Your Majesty, do you truly mean what you say? Return the invaded lands, cede the throne to Fusu, and not pursue my crime of attempting to assassinate the king?"
"Were my words false, may the gods strike me down, and may eternal punishment follow my death! Besides, we have known each other for twenty years—how could I bear to kill an old friend? I only beg you, Prince, to save my life swiftly!" Ying Zheng's arms trembled like plucked strings, threatening to collapse at any moment.
Wuzheng drew a deep breath, then lifted the tabletop, intending to place it between his head and Ying Zheng to block the arrows.Seeing this, Ying Zheng's grief instantly turned to hope. He forced a smile, his eyes fixed intently on the lower edge of the table—that very edge held the key to his life. When it descended to shield the two gleaming arrowheads, he could finally cast aside the head he had held aloft for an hour.Wu Zheng did everything in his power, slowly lowering the wooden table, silently praying he wouldn't trigger the trap.
But suddenly both men froze in place. They watched as Fox Yan's mouth slowly opened wide, then erupted into a ghostly, shrill cackle. The laughter pierced the clouds and split the air, echoing for miles and startling birds into flight. It shook pillars and beams, causing the spirit tablets on the altar to sway violently. This soul-stealing, spirit-seizing laughter froze the two men in place like ice and frost.With two whistling sounds, one crossbow bolt plunged into Ying Zheng's wide-eyed left eye, lodging deep within his skull. Another shattered his protruding Adam's apple, piercing clean through his neck to embed itself firmly in the spirit tablet of Ying Yiren on the altar behind him.Ying Zheng's arms fell limp as he toppled backward, crimson blood gushing from both wounds. Fox Yan's head rolled to one side, while the tablet in Wuzheng's hand clattered to the floor.
...
Wu Zheng closed his eyes, listening. Beyond the temple doors, the rustling of footsteps and the clanging of weapons and armor surged toward him like a tidal wave.He would not be captured alive. Ying Zheng's sword now rested in his hand, its edge pressed against his own throat. Beside him, flames roared, consuming the Feng Kingdom's census map and Fox Yan's severed head.
Suddenly, all sound ceased. Every movement halted several paces away, save for the rhythmic tapping of two boots ascending the steps. As the sound alternated left and right, a figure gradually materialized against the window screen. Then came the voice of an elder:
"Young master, do not be alarmed! I am Ying Xi, uncle to Ying Zheng." His words were steady and composed, betraying complete control over the situation. After a pause, he added, "I presume you have succeeded. Such an achievement is a great service to the State of Qin. I must enter to offer my gratitude!" With that, he raised his hand to push open the door. "I have no intention of harming you. Please remain calm!"
The door creaked open, and moonlight spilled through the crack. Wuzheng's wildly beating heart began to steady, and the sword at his throat gradually loosened its grip. The man who stepped inside appeared to be in his sixties, with hair and beard streaked with gray. His build and the shape of his eyebrows bore a faint resemblance to Ying Yiren, though he was shorter and lacked the latter's imposing presence.The man scanned the temple interior. His eyes lit up upon spotting Ying Zheng's corpse, and he strode forward to crouch and examine it. Satisfied with what he saw, he bowed deeply to Wuzheng:
"Young master, you have rid our nation and the world of a fatuous and self-indulgent ruler. Please accept this old man's humble bow!"
So this was the Qin insider Father had spoken of—likely the next King of Qin. Having lain dormant for two generations, he seized the throne by killing his nephew in his twilight years. His cunning must run deeper than the halls of the Qin palace itself. Wuzheng replied:
"If you intend to take my life, do so here and now. Otherwise, I shall step beyond these gates."
"Your Highness is divinely protected. Who am I to harm you? Go as you please. May your journey be smooth, and may we meet again someday."
Wuzheng dragged Ying Zheng's sword in his hand as he stepped over the threshold.The bright moon hung high in the sky. Within Xianyang Palace, all was silent, as if not even the slightest disturbance had ever occurred. Only two rows of warriors, clad in armor and wielding spears, stood flanking the main hall. Wu Zheng walked between them. A cold wind swept through, chilling him to the bone, causing the cold sweat on his body to retreat back into his flesh. He glanced back at the raging flames still burning within the Imperial Ancestral Temple and murmured to himself:
"In the end, it all comes down to you..."
He strode purposefully toward the palace gates, feeling no exhilaration at having escaped death. All he desired was to board the carriage home and sleep soundly within its confines.