Qin Renhuang just became an immortal, and you told me this is the prehistoric time

Meng Tian's expression was equally grave. He stepped forward and stood beside Fusu. Although he did not directly rebuke Fusu like Fusu had, the worry and difficulty in his eyes could not be concealed.

He was a general in the northern frontier, a trusted minister personally promoted by the First Emperor, and utterly loyal to him. Now that Ying Xuan had torn up the imperial edict, he, as one of the highest-ranking generals present, should have immediately ordered Ying Xuan's arrest.

However, he also had deep feelings for Ying Xuan. The two had fought side by side for many years and faced countless life-and-death situations together. He couldn't bring himself to harm Ying Xuan.

“My lord,” Meng Tian said in a deep, hoarse voice, “this matter has gone too far. Even if there is something suspicious about this decree, it should not have been torn up in public, much less killed the envoy. What about what you have done? What about what about Prince Fusu? How can I explain this to His Majesty?”

Xin Sheng stood to the side, his face equally grim, but his words were completely different from Meng Tian's: "What kind of bullshit imperial edict is this! The young master has destroyed the Xiongnu and made unparalleled contributions, how could His Majesty issue such an edict? This is clearly someone playing tricks! The young master did well to tear it up! These two eunuchs deserve to die!"

"Xin Sheng!"

Meng Tian shouted sternly, "Shut up! How dare you utter such treasonous words?"

Xin Sheng, his neck stiff, said, "This humble general is telling the truth! General Meng, you know in your heart that His Majesty would never issue such an edict! This edict is obviously fake! Since it's a fake edict, what's wrong with tearing it up? What's wrong with killing those two eunuchs who falsely conveyed the imperial edict?"

Whether it's a false imperial edict or not is not for you or me to decide!

Meng Tian's voice deepened further, "Even if this imperial edict is fake, it should have been reported to Xianyang and decided by His Majesty. For you to tear it up in public and kill the messenger, aren't you just accusing yourself of treason?"

The two men's argument echoed in the main hall, and everyone present exchanged glances, none daring to interrupt. Meng Tian's words made sense, and Xin Sheng's words also made sense, but in the current situation, it no longer mattered who was right.

The important thing is that Ying Xuan has already torn up the imperial edict and killed the envoy, and this outcome cannot be changed.

Ying Xuan scoffed at Fusu's righteous and awe-inspiring speech.

Looking at Fusu's face, which was flushed red with excitement, he felt no emotion whatsoever, but rather a sense of annoyance.

Fusu's long speech just now, full of talk about the duty between ruler and subject and the relationship between father and son, was righteous and solemn, as if he stood on the moral high ground and could look down on everything.

In Ying Xuan's view, these words were extremely hypocritical, nothing more than a fig leaf used by cowards to cover up their incompetence.

The outdated notions of blind loyalty and filial piety—such as "the ruler commands the subject to die, and the subject must die" or "the father commands the son to die, and the son must die"—were utterly worthless in Ying Xuan's eyes.

He slowly turned around to face Fusu, his eyes filled with undisguised mockery, and asked, "Fusu, all those grand principles you just spoke of were nothing more than trying to say that I shouldn't have torn up that imperial edict and shouldn't have killed those two eunuchs. Then I'd like to ask you, do you really hope that I will obey the edict and commit suicide, or do you hope that I will surrender so that you can supervise me?"

Fusu was taken aback by the question. His lips moved, but before he could speak, Ying Xuan pressed on, his voice growing even colder: "I'll ask you again. This decree clearly states that you and General Meng Tian will jointly supervise its execution. If I were to commit suicide, would you really intend to stand by and watch me die? If I refuse to commit suicide, would you still want to take my life yourself?"

These two questions were like two knives, stabbing straight into Fusu's heart. Fusu's expression changed repeatedly, and for a moment he was speechless.

He had been so indignant that he accused Ying Xuan of tearing up the imperial edict and killing the envoy that he had never seriously considered what the edict itself meant.

Now, being confronted by Ying Xuan, he suddenly realized that this decree not only wanted Ying Xuan dead, but also required his personal involvement.

Fusu took a deep breath, straightened his back, and tried to make his voice sound calm and firm: "Yingxuan, I don't deny that the content of this decree is indeed... indeed hard to accept."

But this is the Emperor's decree, and as his subjects and sons, we can only obey, not disobey. When the emperor commands a subject to die, the subject must die; this is a matter of course, and it has been so since ancient times.

"If the father commands the son to die, the son must die; this is the foundation of human ethics. You ask me if I truly intend to oversee its execution? I can only say that if my father truly intends this, as the eldest son, I should obey the decree and dare not disobey."

His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, but his tone was exceptionally earnest. It was clear that Fusu genuinely believed in this set of ethical principles governing rulers and subjects, and fathers and sons; he wholeheartedly accepted these rules.

In his mind, the First Emperor was both a monarch and a father, and from either perspective, the First Emperor's orders were absolute and inviolable.

Let alone an imperial edict ordering his death, even if the First Emperor ordered him to draw his sword and commit suicide on the spot, he would do so without hesitation.

Upon hearing this, Ying Xuan couldn't help but let out a cold laugh.

He knew Fusu's personality all too well. He was pedantic, weak, and stubborn, his mind filled with Confucian morality and ethics, valuing so-called etiquette more than his own life.

If such a person were born in a peaceful and prosperous era, he might be able to be a law-abiding and conservative ruler. But in today's turbulent and unpredictable world, such a personality would only lead him to die faster than anyone else.

Wasn't it precisely because of this kind of pedantic nature that Fusu, upon receiving a fake imperial edict, became disheartened and committed suicide by drawing his sword? Now that he himself has encountered the same situation, Fusu not only fails to learn from his mistakes but also uses that outdated set of reasoning to criticize him, which is utterly ridiculous.

Moreover, Ying Xuan knew perfectly well that there was no true kinship in the imperial family. The so-called brotherly affection and the so-called father-son relationship were nothing but superficial pretense.

How many times have brothers turned against each other and fathers and sons turned against each other for the sake of that dragon throne? Fusu was publicly humiliated in Xianyang and lost face in the court. Later, he was ordered by the First Emperor to be sent back to the northern frontier to reflect on his actions. Did he really not feel any resentment at all? Ying Xuan did not believe it.

Anyone who was treated like this would feel resentful and unwilling to accept it.

Fusu appeared to be full of righteous words, but who knew what he was really thinking? Perhaps he wished that Ying Xuanzhen would obey the imperial decree and commit suicide, so as to eliminate a powerful rival who threatened his position as crown prince.

Even assuming the decree was indeed issued by the First Emperor himself, Ying Xuan would never have obeyed it. He believed in the ironclad rule that to remain silent is to die, and in this dog-eat-dog world, waiting to be killed would only hasten one's demise.

He has survived to this day not because of loyalty between ruler and subject or affection between father and son, but because of the knife in his hand, his skills, and his indomitable spirit.

Any obstacle in his path, whoever it may be, he will crush without hesitation, showing no mercy whatsoever. Whether it's the First Emperor or Zhao Gao, whoever wants him dead, he will make them die first.

"Fusu," Ying Xuan glanced at Fusu, his voice filled with deep contempt and coldness, "Do you even believe what you're saying?" As his words fell, Ying Xuan's aura surged violently. It was the overwhelming killing intent he had accumulated after slaughtering millions of lives, mixed with the terrifying pressure of the Unity of Heaven and Man realm, crushing towards Fusu as if it were a tangible force.

Although he simply stood there motionless, without even raising a finger, his killing intent surged towards Fusu like an invisible giant wave.

Fusu felt a bone-chilling cold shoot from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, and the hairs on his body stood on end in an instant. He instinctively wanted to back away, but his legs were as if nailed to the ground and he couldn't move.

He tried to look away, but his eyes seemed to be captured by something, and he couldn't help but meet Ying Xuan's gaze.

It was just that one glance.

Ying Xuan's gaze was as cold as ice that had never melted in a thousand years, and the killing intent contained within it was so intense that it seemed to have solidified into a tangible form.

There was no anger, no hatred, not even any human emotion in those eyes, only a condescending indifference, as if Fusu in front of him was not a living person, but an ant that could be crushed at will.

Fusu had never seen that look on anyone's face before; it carried a chilling coldness that sent shivers down one's spine, as if death itself was watching him from those eyes.

It was just a fleeting moment.

Fusu felt as if his heart was being gripped tightly by an invisible giant hand, his blood froze in an instant, and a massive boulder pressed down on his chest, making it impossible for him to even breathe.

He opened his mouth wide, wanting to breathe, wanting to scream, wanting to do something to get rid of this terrifying feeling, but his body was completely out of his control.

Immediately afterwards, a sweet, metallic taste surged from deep within his throat. He could no longer control himself and spat out a mouthful of blood. The blood landed on the ground, splattering a glaring crimson across the bluestone pavement.

Immediately, Fusu's legs went weak, and he collapsed to the ground as if all his strength had been drained away. His face was deathly pale, as white as a sheet of paper, and cold sweat poured down his forehead, soaking his clothes.

His body trembled uncontrollably, his teeth chattered, his pupils contracted violently, and his eyes were filled with extreme horror and fear.

In that very instant, Fusu truly experienced the feeling of death approaching. It was not a metaphor, not an illusion, but a real and tangible sensation.

He felt as if he were standing on the edge of an abyss, with bottomless darkness beneath his feet. If he took just half a step forward, he would fall into an abyss of no return.

He had no doubt that if he hadn't instinctively looked away, if Ying Xuan had looked at him one more time, he would have been scared to death—not beaten to death, not killed, but terrified by that murderous intent and died on the spot.

The feeling was so real, so real that Fusu remained stunned for a long time after collapsing to the ground. His heart was still pounding, and it felt like something was about to burst out of his chest.

He was gasping for breath, each breath accompanied by a burning pain, as if his lungs were being torn apart.

Ying Xuan looked down at Fu Su's disheveled appearance, and his sneer deepened.

He looked down at Fusu, who was slumped on the ground, as if he were looking at a stray dog ​​with a broken spine. There was no pity in his eyes, only naked contempt and disdain.

"A bunch of scoundrels."

Ying Xuan coldly uttered four words, each word like a hammer blow to Fusu's heart, "With your appearance, do you think you're worthy to put on airs in front of me? Do you think you're worthy to talk to me about the duties between ruler and subject, or the affection between father and son? You can't even withstand a single glance from me, yet you dare to dream of supervising my suicide? It's utterly ridiculous."

Fusu slumped to the ground, his lips trembling, trying to say something in rebuttal, but only a muffled whimper came from his throat, unable to utter a single complete word.

His body was still trembling uncontrollably, his hands gripping the ground tightly, his knuckles turning pale from the effort, but he couldn't stand up no matter what.

Ying Xuan stepped forward, squatted down, and leaned close to Fusu's ear. His voice was extremely low, yet it carried a chilling aura that sent shivers down one's spine: "Fusu, listen carefully. I will only say this once today, and only this once."

From now on, stop nagging me and stop trying to lecture me with your outdated and pedantic theories. What I do is none of your business. If you know what's good for you, stay quiet and don't make things difficult for yourself.

He paused, his voice turning even colder, each word seemingly squeezed out through clenched teeth: "If there is a next time, I don't mind bearing the reputation of a fratricide."

He murdered his brother.

When Ying Xuan uttered those two words, he spoke them so casually, as if he were talking about something insignificant. But to Fusu, they sounded like a death knell. He had no doubt that Ying Xuan was telling the truth, no doubt that Ying Xuan really dared to kill him.

That look just now said it all—Ying Xuan had no brotherly affection for him, nor any scruples. In Ying Xuan's eyes, Fusu was no different from those two eunuchs whose heads had been crushed; they were all beings who could be wiped out at will.

Fusu trembled, lowered his head, and dared not look Ying Xuan in the eye again.

Seeing this, Ying Xuan stood up with a cold smile, ignoring Fusu who was slumped on the ground trembling. He turned around and his gaze fell on Meng Tian, ​​who was standing to the side.

At this moment, Meng Tian's expression was also not good. This great general, who had dominated the northern frontier battlefield and could remain calm in the face of thousands of Xiongnu troops, was now so nervous that his forehead was covered with cold sweat.

Beads of sweat covered his forehead and trickled down his temples. He didn't even dare to raise his hand to wipe them away, just standing there stiffly, motionless.

He had seen everything clearly. Ying Xuan had made Fusu cough up blood and collapse with just a glance; such methods were completely beyond Meng Tian's comprehension.

He had fought battles for most of his life, seen countless brave and fierce generals, and met many martial arts masters, but he had never seen anyone who could scare someone to the point of vomiting blood with just a glance. This was not merely a matter of superior martial arts skills; it was practically a legendary supernatural power.

Moreover, Meng Tian knew in his heart that Ying Xuan's prestige in the Northern Frontier Army had reached its zenith. (End of this chapter)