It is said that Qin Shihuang was controlled by a daughter

Chapter 607 Ruins of Time, Flowing from a Cold Pool

Ying Zheng's voice was colder than ever before, chilling to the bone.

What is the crime of an inferior defying a superior?

What is the crime of abandoning one's post without authorization?

What is the crime of harboring a serious criminal?

What is the crime of failing to report something one knows about?

As Li Xian emerged from the palace, the sky turned a deep red, the last rays of the sun receded, leaving half of the night in darkness.

All the events of my past lives surged before me like the darkest night.

The signs sent forth by Heaven foreshadowed the empire's impending doom—the jade disc that had sunk into a sunken treasure became Li Si's memorial to the throne, the burning of books became the burning of prophecies, and the burying alive of alchemists became the killing of the Chu sorcerers.

He lived in a time of upheaval and longed for stability and peace.

He knew all too well that an empire could never be born from gentleness and leniency, but that those who forged the empire wielded an extremely sharp sword.

Ying Zheng will use this Emperor's Sword to cut off all possible threats!

How absurd the prophecy was, and how cowardly Li Si's memorial to the throne was.

Are they afraid of just a mere meteorite from outer space?

Li Xian had no idea what the person on the high seat was thinking.

Ying Zheng recalled a bizarre dream from many years ago.

That was the first time he stepped into the palace in Xianyang.

He dreamt of his great-grandfather, King Zhaoxiang of Qin, Ying Ji, who spoke at length, vaguely saying, "...prophecies are terrifying...act with caution...yet their words can be followed and used to guide..." As he spoke, he handed Ying Zheng a dagger, mentioning that it was presented to him by Bai Qi many years ago and forged by a renowned craftsman from Ailao Mountain. Then, the ancestors of Qin looked at him with smiles, their hopes for him high.

When he woke up the next day, he was shocked to find the dagger beside his pillow.

His anger did not stem from the prediction that the empire would perish in fifteen years.

The unprecedented outrage stemmed from disappointment.

Because those who believe in this destiny have extremely low trust in the empire.

He and his empire cannot tolerate any questioning or slander!

The wrath of the emperor can cause millions of corpses to fall and blood to flow for thousands of miles.

This is not a lie.

After this secret conversation, which no one knew about, Li Xian felt a deep respect and awe for his monarch.

It is said that the First Emperor sought immortality and inquired about the Dao, lavishly rewarding alchemists and being enthusiastic about pursuing matters of immortality.

But Ying Zheng simply didn't believe in the divine book or the destiny written on the falling rocks.

When Li Xian saw his father's official documents and learned the reason for his father's breakdown, he was completely shaken.

He handed over the bamboo scroll he had spent a month carving, prepared to die, concealing the fact that his father had orchestrated the mistakes of his previous life. He calmly recounted his sins, even going so far as to make even more mistakes, in order to hide Xu Zhi's whereabouts.

Under the oppressive darkness, Li Xian lowered his head and knelt on the ground, saying, "...This sinful subject has committed countless wrongs that cannot be redeemed, but I beg for the most severe punishment."

To Li Xian's utter surprise, Ying Zheng remained silent for a long time. He neither ordered Li Xian to be dragged out nor asked him any further questions.

That bamboo scroll was something he had been preparing for nearly twenty years, containing all the secrets he knew.

Ying Zheng didn't even glance at it, nor did he flip through it.

Ying Zheng glanced at him one last time, then his gaze finally fell on his father's letter. He remained silent for a long time before turning away.

The flickering candlelight burned out, and the autumn wind blew in through the curtains. It was the wind of Chu, the wind of my hometown, chilling me to the bone in the autumn.

The main hall of the palace was empty, and Li Xian knelt there alone, an hour passing by unknowingly.

He recalled that fifteen years ago, when he returned to Xianyang from Shu, he personally told Ying Zheng, "If my father is wrong, I will kill my father and then commit suicide."

His two lifetimes combined totaled no more than sixty years, and he built a desolate wasteland.

He heard footsteps.

"My lord please."

Even as he was dying, the eunuch's voice still made him uncomfortable.

He looked up and saw a soft cloth on the square lacquered plate, but instead of a cup of poison, there was a small bronze chimera-shaped knob.

He was clearly taken aback. The attendant respectfully said, "Lord Li, His Majesty has ordered you to complete what needs to be done within seven days."

An hour later, Meng Yi met with him with two orders.

First, burn all vegetation within a hundred miles of the meteorite and sacrifice all livestock.

Second, arrest all those currently living in Lingcheng who are related to the Chu Wu tribe, and behead them in the bustling city as a warning to others.

The majesty of the Qin Dynasty cannot be violated.

At the same time, how could Ying Zheng possibly allow a subject to attempt to hide the empire's princess among the common people?

What is strategy and tactics?

Is winning without bloodshed the most powerful strategy?

Before Ying Zheng, all these things were like withered grass clippings; in the face of absolute power, everything can be easily reduced to dust.

In his past life, Li Xian was so engrossed in his dream of pursuing fame and fortune that he couldn't hear this voice at all, and even arrogantly believed that he could become its owner.

But now, he could feel the crisp sound of dry straw breaking—he seemed to understand why Mo Qi had been crazy in both of his lives... he seemed to understand a little bit of the 'moderate' way of life that Mo Qi and Xu Zhi talked about.

He felt a subtle pain.

Meng Yi's horse rode alongside him, slightly overtaking him. He turned his head to look at him under the crimson sky.

Meng Yi was puzzled as to why Li Xian wanted to do those two things himself.

"You've been gone for a year, and now you've suddenly returned to court. Whether you're here to plead for mercy or to intercede, why have you turned around and agreed to become an executioner... If the princess finds out,"

Li Xian didn't speak, but suddenly quickened his pace to catch up. He interrupted him and asked bluntly, "Lord Meng, in your opinion, are those words from the past fifteen years true or false?"

"Nonsense." With that, Meng Yi frowned, reined in his horse, and said unhappily, "Does Inspector Li think there's some truth to what your father said while he was ill?"

Li Xian couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, Your Majesty is right. My father was delirious upon hearing the terrible news." He looked at the setting sun in the distance and finally couldn't help but ask, "What Father wrote wasn't detailed... Do you know what happened to Master Han Fei...?"

When the matter was mentioned, Meng Yi's eyebrows twitched slightly. He still felt very surprised and shocked when the topic came up.

The two dismounted and came to an open space.

Meng Yi explained the whole story, "In short, according to the official records, it was not a case of people harming each other, but rather caused by bandits in the mountains."

"Bandits?" Li Xian certainly didn't believe it.

He naturally assumed that this was done by someone sent by the imperial court.

That's Han Fei, one of the most intelligent people in the world. He's not some nobody, nor is he someone who can be killed easily.

But they didn't give a plausible reason... Meng Yi's explanation was so absurd and so careless!
"Meng Yi! How dare you evade the question like this? Han Fei is a master of martial arts; how could there possibly be bandits in Zhongnan Mountain?!"

He tightened his collar.

“You don’t believe this story. I don’t believe it either. But this wasn’t verified by the authorities; it was written in Han Fei’s blood-written letter.”

Meng Yi sighed and began to recount the day recorded in the dossier.

Hearing the details brought forth so much pain that Li Xian could hardly breathe.

The content, which had been recounted by others several times, was always so sorrowful.

This shows how much Li Si suffered.

His father was devastated, developed a persistent high fever, and resigned from his official post in grief… What about those who were already deeply affected by this…? Zhao Jia's death had already broken Xu Zhi; what if she knew about Han Fei too…?

"The Prime Minister initially didn't believe it either, and he even ordered a massive search of Xianyang City at all costs. Until... he went there himself, went into the inner room, and saw the blood-written letter on the ground, he stopped investigating..."

"You mean the blood-written letter left by Han Fei, which says he was mistakenly killed by bandits? How can you be sure the blood-written letter is genuine?"

Meng Yi held his breath and said, "The script of that book is not Qin Han script, but Qi script. It's probably something only your father knows."

Upon hearing this, Li Xian immediately understood.

The past of the Jixia Academy in Lanling is like a distant dream, a long ballad, containing their youth.

Not only Han Fei and Li Si, but also Zheng Guo and Zhang Cang.

That era has crumbled into ruins, but it has nothing to do with any of the interests, nationalities, or identities that followed...

That purest period of time ushered in two eras.

In chaotic times, some will emerge from the icy pool.

Han Fei believed this until his death.