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

“I don’t have the guts to go against Ninth Brother! You know best what I’ve been like since I was little… How could I dare to dream of the Crown Prince’s position? That’s something I could never even dream of… It’s all Zhao Gao’s fault… He’s been forcing me, he said if I didn’t do it I wouldn’t be able to live… Ninth Brother, you have to believe me… It really wasn’t me…”

By the end, his voice had completely turned into a wail, and he lay face down on the ground, his forehead pounding against the stone bricks with each thud.

The skin on his forehead was quickly broken, and a patch of bright red blood seeped out, smearing half of his face with dirt from the ground, making him look both pitiful and terrifying.

Standing behind Ying Xuan, Zhang Han silently watched this scene, shaking his head inwardly.

Is this the son of the First Emperor?
He envisioned the heroic spirit of the First Emperor. He had followed the First Emperor in his conquest of the six kingdoms, and had personally witnessed the emperor commanding his vast army from his chariot. Wherever his long spear pointed, the entire army would charge forth, and the heavens and earth would change color.

That kind of majesty, that kind of domineering aura, that kind of domineering presence is enough to make anyone who faces him involuntarily lower their head.

But the thing lying on the ground, crying and trembling, looked nothing like a descendant of the Ying clan.

Zhang Han's lips twitched slightly, and a hint of undisguised contempt flashed in his eyes. He had no backbone, no sense of responsibility whatsoever.

Having committed a heinous act of treason, he failed but lacked the courage to admit his guilt, instead shifting all the blame onto others.

If such a person were to fall into that position, the remaining forces of the six states would probably pounce on him like sharks smelling blood, and within a few days they would tear Qin to shreds.

He couldn't help but turn his gaze to Ying Xuan in front of him.

Both being sons of the First Emperor, the young master before him maintained an upright posture from beginning to end, without even a lapse in his breathing.

From the northern frontier to Xianyang, from the battlefield to the imperial court, he faced countless dangers, both open and hidden, and faced numerous life-or-death crises, yet this young master's steps never faltered.

Every step is taken at the most precise moment, every sword strike lands in the most fatal spot, and every opponent is thoroughly calculated.

The difference is like comparing heaven and earth.

Ying Xuan never bowed his head.

He didn't even glance at the wailing figure at his feet, as if there was nothing there at all, just a wisp of air, a speck of dust, not worth wasting even a fraction of his attention.

He walked straight past Hu Hai, the hem of his robe brushing against Hu Hai's shoulder, stirring up a very light breeze. The breeze carried no warmth, no emotion, like someone walking past an inconspicuous stone by the roadside.

His target was Zhao Gao, who was slumped in the corner.

Zhao Gao collapsed to the ground, his limbs twisted in an extremely unnatural position.

The four thugs of Xiangxi showed no mercy when they attacked him. His joints were completely crushed, and bone fragments protruded from under his skin, gleaming with a pale sheen in the dim light.

The excruciating pain felt like countless red-hot iron rods piercing his body simultaneously, spreading from his limbs all the way down to his spine, causing his muscles to twitch involuntarily.

Large beads of cold sweat rolled down his forehead, soaking the hair at his temples, the damp strands clinging tightly to his pale cheeks. Even so, his eyes remained open.

Those eyes were like two venomous snakes coiled in a dark corner, their pupils burning with a cold, resentful fire as they stared intently at Ying Xuan, who was walking towards them.

Seeing Ying Xuan approach, Zhao Gao suddenly smiled.

The smile was extremely ugly; the twitching of his lips contorted the muscles in his face, making his entire face contort. The laughter was squeezed out from deep in his throat, hoarse and broken, like a broken gong being repeatedly struck with a blunt instrument.

"Hehe...hehehe..."

He laughed several times to suppress the metallic taste of blood rising in his throat, and then spoke in an extremely hoarse voice.

“Ying Xuan…I underestimated you.”

With each word he spoke, his chest heaved violently, clearly indicating severe pain. Yet he gritted his teeth and continued speaking, his voice filled with a deep-seated resentment and unwillingness.

"He bided his time for twenty years... manipulating the entire world in his hands... yet no one noticed... excellent... very excellent... everyone misjudged him... the entire court... the entire world... all misjudged him..."

His gaze swept back and forth across Ying Xuan's face, as if he were re-evaluating someone he had never truly known.

"A marginalized young master... his cunning is so profound... he hid it so well... and when the sword was drawn... he was already unstoppable... excellent methods... truly excellent methods..."

As he spoke, he suddenly coughed violently, a mouthful of dark red blood oozing from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin onto the front of his shirt. But he ignored it all and forced himself to finish what he was saying.

“I regret… I regret that back in Xianyang City… I didn’t go all out… At that time, your foundation was not yet stable… You were at your weakest… I only tested you… I didn’t really go all out…”

His voice suddenly rose, carrying an almost frantic sense of unwillingness.

"If I had eliminated you back then... there wouldn't be any of this today! My moment of mercy... my moment of mercy! Instead, it allowed you to rise to prominence... and achieve your current status... I am not reconciled... I am not reconciled!"

Standing behind Ying Xuan, Zhang Han frowned slightly as he listened to Zhao Gao's words.

When others mentioned Zhao Gao, they all called him a smiling tiger, outwardly respectful and obedient to the First Emperor, but secretly ruthless and vicious, devouring people without spitting out the bones. But at this moment, Zhao Gao himself said that Ying Xuan was the truly ruthless person from the bottom of his heart.

He doesn't need to go through any trials and tribulations; he's born with an indifference to life and death, yet he also possesses profound cunning, astonishing martial prowess, and chilling methods.

Zhang Han thought about it carefully and realized that Zhao Gao was absolutely right.

He had followed the young master through countless battles in the martial world, witnessing firsthand how composed the young master was when facing those ruthless and vicious martial arts masters. Those grandmasters who commanded respect in the martial world couldn't even last a single round against the young master.

The same thing happened in the northern frontier. The Xiongnu cavalry surged in like a tidal wave, but the young master stood at the front of the battle without even flinching. With a backhand sword strike, he turned the tide of the entire battle.

Turn the world upside down.

Zhao Gao continued speaking, his voice filled with growing resentment.

"But there's one thing... I'll never understand it until I die..."

His gaze sharpened, like two knives stabbing straight at Ying Xuan.

"Where did you get that martial prowess from? I've used the Net to investigate you for so long... I've turned everything upside down, from birth to now... but I can't find anything... no master to guide you... no extraordinary encounters or inheritances... nothing at all..."

He clenched his teeth, and the sound squeezed out from between them carried an almost obsessive stubbornness.

"And that guard... they're in no way inferior to the Net... When exactly did you start this operation? Where did you find these people? How did you manage to leave not a single trace?" Hu Hai, who had stopped crying at some point, still had his hands on the ground, but his neck was erect, his ears perked up, and a faint glint even flashed in his eyes. He, too, wanted to know the answer to this question.

Zhang Han's curiosity was also piqued.

Although he had long ago decided to follow the young master wholeheartedly and not ask any questions, that did not mean he had no doubts in his heart.

How exactly did the young master develop his martial arts skills? Where did those endless streams of miraculous elixirs come from? When was that elusive guard team formed? He had thought about these questions before, but he had never asked them aloud.

Everyone was waiting for Ying Xuan's answer.

Ying Xuan lowered his head, his gaze coolly landing on Zhao Gao's face. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, the curve so faint it barely resembled a smile, more like a condescending pity and mockery.

There's nothing to say to a dead person.

His voice was flat, as if he were talking about something insignificant.

"I'm not here to reminisce, so let's skip the nonsense."

Zhao Gao's pupils suddenly contracted.

Before he could say another word, Ying Xuan's hand had already reached out.

His hand was long and strong, with distinct knuckles, and gleamed with a cold, jade-like white luster in the dim light. His sleeves billowed with his movements, creating a sharp whistling sound.

An invisible force suddenly exploded in the cell, the air seemed to be violently stirred by an unseen giant hand, emitting a muffled buzzing sound.

Zhao Gao's body stiffened abruptly.

He felt something gripping his neck tightly, as if an invisible giant hand reached out from the void and tightened like an iron clamp. His face instantly turned red, then quickly turned bluish-purple.

He struggled desperately, but his limbs had long been crippled, and he couldn't even lift them. He could only writhe on the ground like a fish out of water.

Then, that force suddenly pulled.

Zhao Gao was forcefully pulled towards him, his body scraping against the ground with a harsh screeching sound. Ying Xuan grabbed his skull, his five fingers gripping the top of his head, the knuckles slightly bent, the force neither too light nor too heavy, yet leaving Zhao Gao no room to resist.

Soul-searching technique.

These three words simultaneously appeared in the minds of Zhang Han and Hu Hai.

The moment the technique was activated, Zhao Gao felt as if a thousand sharp needles were piercing his head simultaneously. The pain didn't come from his body, but from the depths of his soul, as if someone were roughly rummaging through his most secret memories with a red-hot iron hook.

Page by page, layer by layer, everything he had experienced in his life, all the secrets he had hidden, and all the carefully woven lies were exposed under the pressure of that force.

"Ahhh-"

He let out a bloodcurdling scream.

The sound was sharp and distorted, piercing the eardrums and echoing repeatedly in the narrow space of the dungeon. The moss on the walls seemed to tremble from the sound, and dust fell from the ceiling in a flurry.

Hu Hai was so frightened that his body went limp, and he collapsed to the ground like a lump of mud. His body convulsed uncontrollably, and a foul-smelling, yellowish liquid seeped from under his robe, spreading rapidly along the cracks in the stone bricks.

He desperately kicked his legs and tried to shrink back, trying to squeeze himself into the corner, as far away as possible from the person who was screaming and the person who made the scream.

His eyes were so wide they almost popped out of their sockets, his pupils shrinking to two black pinpoints as he stared intently at Ying Xuan's back.

That's not Ninth Brother.

That's a demon.

He grew up in the palace and had seen countless people and things, but he had never seen such a look in his eyes.

That indifferent gaze, that gaze that regards human life as worthless, that gaze that stands atop mountains of corpses and seas of blood without even lifting an eyelid—that's not the gaze of a human being; it's the gaze of a demon crawling out of the depths of hell.

Ying Xuan turned a deaf ear to all of this.

The Soul Searching Technique continued to operate, and true energy flowed from his fingertips into the depths of Zhao Gao's mind, uncovering the memories hidden in the darkest corners layer by layer.

Zhao Gao had too many memories. He rose step by step from a lowly eunuch to the position of Chief of the Imperial Carriage Office, handling countless people and events over several decades.

The entire structure of the network, the roster of all its personnel, and its organizational methods unfolded in his mind like a giant spider web.

He remembered clearly the names, identities, weaknesses, and secrets of every single person among the spies spread throughout the various schools of thought, the spies planted among the former officials of the six states, and the spies hidden among the imperial ministers.

Seizing these is equivalent to seizing control of the entire empire's clandestine networks.

And then there were the incriminating evidence he held in his hands. Zhao Gao meticulously collected incriminating evidence against many high-ranking officials, hiding it deep in his mind, preparing to use it as a trump card at the most crucial moment. The value of these things was far greater than any overt power.

Standing aside, Zhang Han watched Zhao Gao's body convulsing violently under the pressure of the Soul Searching Technique, and listened to the increasingly shrill screams. A chill ran down his spine.

He wasn't unfamiliar with killing. As a general of the Qin Dynasty, he had personally severed at least a thousand heads, and he was long accustomed to seeing dismembered limbs and remains on the battlefield. However, the Soul Searching Technique was completely different from the carnage on the battlefield.

To have someone forcibly pry open a person's mind before death, dredging up all their memories and leaving them no dignity whatsoever—this kind of death is truly horrifying.

He then recalled the Great Rejuvenation Pill that the young master had bestowed upon him. After consuming it, he broke through from the mid-stage of the Grandmaster realm all the way to the peak of the Grandmaster realm, saving him decades of arduous cultivation.

He still remembers clearly the feeling of the powerful medicinal force surging through his meridians, and the exhilarating sensation of his spiritual barrier shattering under the impact.

A combination of kindness and severity.

These four words flashed through Zhang Han's mind.

When he was young, he had heard old generals in the army say that the way superiors manage their subordinates is nothing more than a matter of kindness and severity. But in all his life, he had only ever seen one person who could truly embody both of these qualities to the fullest extent—this young master. (End of Chapter)