Chinese animation: Starting with Bad Guys

Qin Chuan threw off the covers and sat up, stepping barefoot onto the cool white jade floor.

The sunlight outside the window shone with a somber bronze hue, illuminating the bare sycamore tree in the courtyard. Its branches pointed towards the leaden sky, like swords poised to strike.

Without the constraints imposed by the Empress and the others, they were able to face this trial with greater freedom.

He walked to the window, gazing at the majestic palace walls in the distance, a cold smile curving his lips.

The Hundred Schools of Thought? To Unify the World?

He could overthrow the Xuanming Sect in the world of Bad Guys, so why would he be afraid of these guys who only talk big or assassinate?

Ying Zheng, my dear brother Zheng. Why don't you let me test your grand ambitions and make them even bigger?

The wind outside the hall whistled through the branches of the paulownia trees, as if gathering strength for the impending storm of trials.

Deep within the Xianyang Palace, the mentally challenged hostage, who had just "recovered," was now burning with a sharp flame in his eyes—a flame that was out of step with the times and belonged to the heir.

The heavy sound of the palace doors closing was like announcing the end of an old era, and also the first move in the new chess game of Qin Chuan.

The lingering touch of Ying Zheng's sleeve on her fingertips, that awkward concern and unquestionable protectiveness, was the only real warmth in this cold palace.

Qin Chuan stood barefoot on the cold white jade ground, the chill rising straight up from the soles of his feet, yet strangely, it calmed his chaotic thoughts.

He was no longer the "foolish hostage" who had just awakened and was forced to accept a massive amount of information.

He is Qin Chuan, an outsider from another world who has experienced sword fights and power struggles, and an inheritor burdened with the trial of "unifying the world".

“Ying Chuan…”

He whispered, chewing on the new name, and also on the fragmented memories flooding his mind—

The cold stares and insults from Handan, the struggle in the mud and water, and the eyes that held back their guilt behind the crack in the door.

These memories, filled with intense humiliation and pain, are like cold stones sinking into a lake of the heart, stirring up icy anger rather than cowardice.

Very well, this anger can serve as a cover for his "recovery" act, and may even fuel some future actions.

He walked to the window, where the bronze window frame appeared exceptionally heavy, cutting the sunlight into blocks.

The branches of the sycamore trees in the courtyard are like cast iron, pointing towards the leaden sky, indeed like sharp swords pointing to the future.

In the distance, the majestic palace walls appeared even more imposing under the somber sky; they were the bulwark of power, and also the arena where he was tested.

"The Hundred Schools of Thought..."

Qin Chuan's fingertips gently traced the cool window frame.

In the world of Bad Guys, he witnessed the Taoist magic of the Celestial Master's Mansion, the strategies of the Tongwen Hall, the sonic attacks of the Huanyin Pavilion, and even fought against an old immortal like Yuan Tiangang.

The various schools of thought in ancient China were nothing more than older schools of thought, power contenders cloaked in the glamorous guise of "Taoism," "Mohism," "Legalism," and "Yin-Yang."

Their doctrines can be a weapon or a shackle. The trial requires "submission," not destruction, which means he needs more sophisticated methods—division, appeasement, suppression, and even...transformation.

Ying Zheng was undoubtedly the central node in this network.

A ready-made ally with unlimited potential.

At this moment, Ying Zheng was still inexperienced, trapped by Lü Buwei's power network and Lao Ai's arrogance, and even had to face the impending rebellion of Cheng Jiao.

Helping him is paving the way for your own trials.

A cold glint flashed in Qin Chuan's eyes.

Lü Buwei? A shrewd businessman and a successful speculator, but how long could his political maneuvering last in the face of absolute power and vision ahead of his time?

Lao Ai? A clown who climbed to the top through nepotism, his downfall was almost inevitable.

Cheng Jiao? Just a pathetic wretch exploited by ambition and others.

In Qin Chuan's eyes, these obstacles were not insurmountable mountains, but rather "sharpening stones" that could be used to sharpen his sword, establish his authority, and even demonstrate his value to Ying Zheng.

The key is how to intervene subtly under the guise of "recovering from dementia".

"The Yin-Yang School... Dongjun Yanfei..." Qin Chuan recalled the famous physician Ying Zheng had mentioned.

The Yin-Yang School, a mysterious and enigmatic school in "Qin's Moon" whose fate is intertwined with that of the stars, has an even more unfathomable leader, Donghuang Taiyi.

Dongjun Yanfei, a person of high status, came to "treat" someone. Was she truly a skilled doctor, or did she have ulterior motives?

Was it a test by Lü Buwei? Or did the Yin-Yang School itself become interested in this "hostage prince returned to Qin"?

This will be the first point of contact, and also his opportunity to make an initial observation of the top forces of this era.

He needs to appear "weak" enough to fit the setup, but he can't actually be controlled or have his secrets exposed by the other party.

That "convenience of travel" bestowed by the ancient will is like a reassuring pill, weighing heavily on my heart.

Time in the world of Bad Guys has almost stopped...

The Empress, Chi Meng, Lu Linxuan, Yelü Zhiwu—those vibrant faces and warmth seem to be frozen in amber, waiting to be rekindled when he returns.

This sense of security allows him to truly settle down in this era, without being impatient or anxious. A day's time limit and a month's cooling-off period are enough for him to calmly plan ahead.

He walked up to a huge bronze mirror.

The figure in the mirror was blurry, reflecting a slightly pale boy with a hint of childishness and fear still lingering in his eyes and brows.

Although they look the same, they are completely different from the ruthless and decisive person they remember from the world of Bad Guys.

Qin Chuan twitched the corners of his mouth, and the boy in the mirror also revealed a timid, slightly silly smile.

“Ying Chuan,” he whispered to his reflection in the mirror, his voice calm and even, “from this day forward, this palace will be a chessboard. The Hundred Schools of Thought will be chess pieces, the Six Kingdoms will be chess pieces, and this vast land will also be chess pieces. And I…”

Deep in his eyes, the sharp flame of a strongman reignited, piercing through the feigned cowardice in the mirror. "The one who wields the chess pieces."

Soft footsteps came from outside the hall; a palace maid was entering with warm water and clean clothes.

Qin Chuan quickly suppressed all his unusual expression and reverted to the young master with a blank look in his eyes, who seemed weak after recovering from a serious illness.

He obediently allowed the palace maids to help him wash up, his movements showing a hint of clumsiness and dependence.

When the warm cloth brushed against his cheek, he flinched slightly, as if unaccustomed to the sudden warmth.

"Young master, the lotus root starch soup that the king ordered is almost ready. Would you like some to tide you over?" the palace maid said softly.

Qin Chuan nodded timidly and said softly, "...Thank you for your trouble."

The voice was soft, carrying just the right amount of gratitude and unease.

The palace maid's eyes showed sympathy, and her movements became even gentler.

They only saw a pitiful young man who had suffered greatly and whose mind was like that of a child, completely unaware that a storm capable of overturning an entire era was brewing within this seemingly fragile body.

Qin Chuan sat quietly by the tatami mat, taking small bites of the warm lotus root starch soup, the sweet taste melting on his tongue.

His gaze, however, passed through the palace gates and reached into a more distant place.

The wind in Xianyang Palace seemed even colder.

But this chill could no longer pierce the chaos in his heart; instead, it became an icy spring that tempered his will.

The trial has already begun.

The next step is to wait and see which key piece will be placed first in this game of chess by the "renowned doctor" from the Yin-Yang School.

Chapter 2 Dongjun Yanfei: The Bait Conceals the Edge

The sweetness of the lotus root starch soup still lingered in her throat when the tense atmosphere in the hall was suddenly stirred by a very subtle ripple.

It wasn't the wind, but a tremor caused by some force stirring the spiritual energy of heaven and earth—scorching hot, yet deliberately concealed, like a spark buried under ashes.

Qin Chuan paused lightly on the brocade quilt with his fingertips, his eyelids lowered slightly, concealing the sharp glint that flashed in his eyes.

"By imperial decree, the Yin-Yang Master, Dongjun Yanfei, is summoned to an audience—to examine the pulse of Prince Yingchuan—"

The eunuch's voice was still echoing between the palace beams when a figure as swift as a flowing cloud entered through the window.

The dark robe was embroidered with flame patterns, and the edges shimmered with flowing red light. The person was suspended three inches above the ground, and the hem of the robe moved without wind, as if supported by invisible flames.

Her hair was piled high like a perilous mountain, with a red-gold crow-shaped hairpin inserted diagonally in it. The beads on the hairpin trembled slightly with her movements, flowing out a fine yet dazzling light.

What's most striking is her face.

Enveloped in a hazy, corona-like halo, their exact outlines were obscured, yet one could glimpse the sharpness of their brows, the coldness of their lips, and their eyes peering through the halo—deep as a pool of molten gold, carrying an indifferent gaze upon all living beings.

Her gaze immediately fell on Qin Chuan, with a scrutinizing look that seemed to penetrate his very being.

Qin Chuan could even clearly sense that a wisp of extremely thin "qi" was probing into his body through his breath, attempting to travel through his meridians and touch his soul.

Almost instinctively, he mobilized his internal energy to lock his dantian, letting the wisp of energy swirl in the shallow meridians, releasing only the weakness and stagnation that "Ying Chuan" should have.

With a clang, the jade spoon slipped from her fingers and hit the low table with a crisp sound.

Qin Chuan flinched, his shoulders tense like a fully drawn bowstring, his eyes instantly filled with childlike fear, like a young deer being targeted by a hunter, instinctively shrinking behind Ying Zheng.

"Brother Chuan, don't be afraid!" Ying Zheng's voice was filled with undeniable protectiveness. He almost immediately stepped aside to shield Qin Chuan, his broad shoulders forming a solid barrier to block Yan Fei's gaze.

When he turned to Yan Fei, the youthful sharpness in his tone lessened somewhat, but it still carried a hint of wariness:

“Your Excellency Dongjun, my younger brother suffered too much fright in Zhao. He has just recovered from a long illness and his mind is still unsettled. He really cannot be disturbed. When it comes to taking his pulse, please be gentle…”

Yan Fei's gaze lingered on Ying Zheng's tense profile for a moment, her aura rippled slightly, as if she were somewhat surprised by this sudden protective instinct.

She nodded slightly, and when her voice rang out, it carried a strange warmth—like bronze after being quenched, cold and hard yet containing a trace of lingering warmth:

"Your Highness, please rest assured. The art of Yin and Yang values ​​harmony, not disturbance."

As she spoke, she moved gracefully and slowly approached the edge of the couch.

As she moved, a strange fragrance spread out. It wasn't the scent of cosmetics, but rather like the smell of pine and cypress trees burning in the fire at sunrise. It was crisp yet intense, and the aroma brought a strange sense of calm to the mind.

The palace maids and eunuchs inside the hall had already tactfully retreated to the corridor. In the huge sleeping chamber, only the three of them remained, along with the faint sound of spiritual energy flowing.

Ying Zheng did not move aside completely, but only turned slightly to the side, his hand naturally landing on Qin Chuan's wrist. The warmth of his palm came through the thin fabric, carrying a silent comfort.

Qin Chuan could sense that the young King of Qin was applying slight pressure to his fingertips, as if he was restraining some kind of tension.

Yan Fei's gaze passed over Ying Zheng's shoulder and landed on Qin Chuan's face again.

The probing "qi" softened its sharpness, becoming as gentle as warm water.

She raised her slender fingers, the tips of which were surrounded by a faint golden light, and hovered them a short distance above Qin Chuan's wrist pulse, without immediately lowering them.

“Young Master Yingchuan,” she said, her voice softening as if coaxing a shy child, “I have come here only to help you strengthen your foundation. There is no need to be afraid.”

Qin Chuan's eyelashes trembled, as if soothed by the voice, yet also as if he was even more frightened.