Chinese animation: Starting with Bad Guys

"Thirty years ago, I was able to pull Zichu out of the quagmire of the State of Zhao and turn him from a hostage into the King of Qin."

"Twenty years ago, when King Zhaoxiang of Qin died, the royal family fought for power. It was I who stood guard at the gate of Yongcheng Palace with my sword that prevented the Qin state from falling apart."

"Eight years ago, Ying Zheng ascended the throne at the age of thirteen. I personally helped him take the throne. Today, I can do the same to change the masters of Xianyang!"

Before he could finish speaking, the study door creaked open a crack.

A draft of night mist swept in and blew out half of the candles.

Darkness washed over his ankles like a tide, and a clear voice pierced the thick fog, carrying an icy mockery: "The Prime Minister has quite the airs."

Lü Buwei froze, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He knew that voice all too well!

In Ganquan Palace, this voice would draw out "Mother Empress" and laugh foolishly while eating dried fruit.

In the imperial court, this voice would point to the map and say, "The apples of Yongcheng are sweet."

But at this moment, that foolish innocence has been completely stripped away, leaving only the chilling coldness.

With a "snap," the flame at Yanfei's fingertip lit up, its orange-red tongue licking the air and illuminating the figure at the doorway.

The man in the middle was dressed in black, the jade pendant at his waist no longer jingled, his hands hanging at his sides had distinct knuckles, and his eyes were more profound than the bronze cauldron in Zhangtai Palace.

On the left, a woman in a fiery red dress had flames dancing on her fingertips, while on the right, a woman in a silver-blue dress had her veil fluttering slightly, her eyes filled with cold stars.

"You..." Lü Buwei's pupils shrank to pinpoints, his throat felt like it was stuffed with a wad of burning cotton, "You're not..."

"Isn't that the foolish young master who steals dried fruit?"

Qin Chuan walked in slowly, and as the hem of his black robe swept across the threshold, the air currents he created caused the bamboo slips scattered on the ground to tremble.

"The Prime Minister, like Lao Ai, believes that besides Ying Zheng, only fools remain in the bloodline of the Ying clan."

The assassins from the Luo Wang organization instantly drew their swords, their blades flashing and weaving a dense net under the flickering candlelight.

Yan Ri's sword was the first to be drawn, and the eyes behind the bronze mask were fixed on Xuan Jian.

This top assassin, who should have been loyal to Lü Buwei alongside them, now had his back to Lü Buwei, his two swords already in his hands.

"Xuan Jian!" Yan Ri shouted fiercely, the sword flashing and tearing through the candlelight. The resulting gust of wind caused the remaining candle on the table to tilt precariously, spilling lamp oil onto the bamboo slips and spreading large patches of dark brown. "Protect the Prime Minister!"

Xuan Jian dodged to the side, his twin swords crossed to parry, the crisp sound of metal clashing against metal causing dust to fall from the windowpanes.

His swordplay suddenly turned fierce, each strike grazing Yan Ri's throat without being fatal, as if he were interrogating him or venting his anger.

Upon seeing this, the other assassins in black immediately lunged at Qin Chuan in a semi-circle, the cold glint of their blades reflecting on their tense faces.

Yan Fei snorted coldly and formed a hand seal.

Suddenly, orange-red flames exploded, burning a wall of fire half a meter high on the ground, and the heat wave made the assassins' robes flutter wildly.

The moment the first assassin's blade touched the wall of fire, it sizzled and burned. He abruptly withdrew his blade, staring at the scorch marks on the blade with a look of terror in his eyes.

When the moon goddess raised her hand, silvery-blue light spread across the area, and frost flowers began to grow softly in the cracks between the floor tiles.

The two assassins who were at the forefront froze on the spot, their eyelashes covered with tiny ice crystals, even the last trace of fear in their pupils was frozen, turning them into two ice sculptures, their fingers still in the position of holding knives.

Qin Chuan ignored the assassins, his gaze remaining fixed on Lü Buwei.

He walked to the table, picked up a loose bamboo scroll, on which was a secret letter written by Lü Buwei to King Kaolie of Chu, the ink still fresh.

Lü Buwei staggered backward, crashing into the bronze lamp holder on the wall. The lamp fell to the ground, spilling oil all over his robe.

"You think this is the end?" He suddenly laughed, flames licking at the hem of his robe, burning a charred hole. "Xuan Jian, you think siding with Ying Zheng will protect your son? I already sent someone to..."

"The third house in Liuxiang, west of Xianyang City."

The moon goddess's voice was ethereal, like jade striking jade. The crystal ball at her fingertips reflected a small courtyard, where a woman in a coarse cloth jacket was grinding soybeans.

"The Zhang couple, who sell tofu, adopted a five-year-old boy with a flame-shaped birthmark on his right shoulder. Yesterday, he secretly drank half a bowl of soy milk and was chased and beaten by Mrs. Zhang."

The color drained from Lü Buwei's face instantly; the flames had already reached his sleeves, but he was completely unaware.

Lü Buwei's face turned deathly pale: "Impossible...this is impossible..."

"Astrology can see through all illusions," the Moon Goddess said, gently stroking the crystal ball, "including those arrangements that the Prime Minister thought were secret."

Meanwhile, the battle between Yan Ri and Xuan Jian has reached a fever pitch.

Both were top experts from the Luo Wang organization, their swordplay so fast it was almost invisible to the naked eye. The furniture and decorations in the study shattered under the force of their clash.

Qin Chuan suddenly disappeared from the spot.

The next moment, he was already standing behind Yan Ri, and lightly placed a palm on his back.

As if struck by a heavy hammer, Yan Ri suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood, which splattered onto the fire wall and turned into white smoke with a "whoosh".

He knelt on the ground, his long sword slipping from his hand, and his eyes were filled with despair as he looked at Qin Chuan, as if he couldn't believe it.

Upon seeing this, the remaining assassins from the Luo Wang organization trembled violently in their hands, ultimately dropping their weapons and collapsing to the ground.

Lü Buwei leaned against the wall, looking at the mess on the ground: the surrendered assassins, the frozen comrades, the Xuanjian sword pressed against Yanri's throat, and the calm and collected "foolish young master".

He suddenly straightened his clothes. The flames had reached his belt, but he raised his hand to dust off the ash from the corner of his robe, revealing a hint of his usual composure.

"Well done, Young Master Chuan." He looked at Qin Chuan, his eyes devoid of hatred, instead holding a strange admiration. "Everyone has been deceived by you. Even Ying Zheng... probably didn't know you were so cunning."

Qin Chuan took out a scroll of bright yellow bamboo slips from his sleeve. The seal on the slip was Ying Zheng's seal, as red as freshly congealed blood.

"Emperor Zheng's decree: Lü Buwei is relieved of his post as Chancellor, and his entire family is to relocate to Shu, departing immediately."

When Lü Buwei received the bamboo slips, his hand was remarkably steady.

He unfolded it, looked at it, and suddenly laughed:

"Sichuan... what a wonderful place! So many mountains and so much fog, perfect for hiding things."

He looked up at Qin Chuan, his gaze like a poisoned needle. "You think you can rest easy by exiling me? The Qin state is a cesspool; there are more things buried beneath its surface than any weapon Ying Zheng has ever seen..."

"That's something for Brother Zheng to consider." Qin Chuan stepped aside to make way. "Leaving Xianyang before dawn will allow us to catch the early morning caravans along the Ziwu Road. This is our last shred of dignity."

Lü Buwei took one last look at the study.

The pages of the "Lüshi Chunqiu" on the table were singed by fire. The network he had cultivated with his own hands had become someone else's knife. The list of his secret agents, which he had once been proud of, was now scattered on the ground, soaked in blood and fire.

He turned and walked into the night, his figure fading into the mist like ink dripping into clear water.

Yan Fei walked to Qin Chuan's side and kicked the ice sculpture on the ground: "His words had a hidden meaning."

"It's just the howl of a trapped beast." Qin Chuan gazed out the window; the sky was already turning a pale white. "Without the net, once we're in Shu, he can't cause any trouble."

Xuan Jian sheathed his sword, bowed deeply to Qin Chuan, and turned around with light steps as if he had unloaded a heavy burden.

The Moon Goddess put away the crystal ball, and the corners of her mouth beneath her veil seemed to twitch slightly: "His son should be awake by now; he's waiting for his father to bring soy milk back."

The first rooster crowed in the distance, and the aroma of soy milk wafted through the morning mist—the breakfast stalls in Liuxiang, west of the city, were opening for business.

Qin Chuan looked towards the direction of Zhangtai Palace, where the lights had been burning all night. Ying Zheng was probably reviewing the memorials left by Lü Buwei.

"After tonight," he said softly, as if to himself, yet also as if to the dawn, "it's time for Qin to change its way of life."

The wind swept away the last wisp of night mist, and the rising sun climbed up the corner tower of Xianyang Palace, casting golden light on the brand-new Qin banner.

The era of Lü Buwei has come to an end, and the era of Ying Zheng is gradually unfolding with the rising sun.

Chapter 39 The Birth of the Star Soul, Zhao Gao Bows Down

The golden rays of the rising sun completely dispelled the heavy night fog, and the eaves of the Xianyang Palace were outlined with sharp lines under the clear sky.

Deep within the Zhangtai Palace, Ying Zheng sat on his throne, the table before him piled high with documents confiscated from the Prime Minister's residence.

The air was filled with the scent of ink mixed with dust, and also with the chilling atmosphere that followed the change of power.

"Uncle Zhong... Lü Buwei's cronies must be thoroughly wiped out." Ying Zheng's voice was deep and carried an undeniable authority.

His gaze swept across a list, finally settling on one name. He tapped his fingertips lightly on the table, revealing a rare hesitation.

"Gan Luo..."

Standing below, Qin Chuan looked up and immediately caught the complex emotions in Ying Zheng's eyes—admiration, vigilance, and even a hint of reluctance.

"This child was appointed as a high minister at the age of twelve. His wisdom and resourcefulness are almost supernatural. He is indeed a rare genius."

Ying Zheng spoke slowly, as if weighing the pros and cons:

"However, he comes from Lü Buwei's faction and has received his favor and support, so his influence is deep-rooted. If we keep him, he might become a threat; if we abandon him, it would be a loss for Qin... Brother Chuan, what do you think?"

Qin Chuan stepped forward, his dark robes appearing particularly somber in the morning light.

He had long anticipated that Ying Zheng would be troubled by this person.

Gan Luo, the young genius who, at the age of twelve, used his silver tongue and diplomatic skills to conquer more than a dozen cities of Zhao for the Qin state, was too dazzling. However, due to his connection with Lü Buwei, he had become a hot potato.

“Brother Zheng’s concerns are very valid. Gan Luo’s talent is like a sharp blade hanging over one’s head. If used properly, it can expand territory; if used carelessly, it can also turn against its master.”

Qin Chuan's voice was calm and unwavering:

"However, his mind is still unsettled. He may have feelings of admiration for Lü Buwei or resentment towards him. It is not yet possible. Placing him in the court at this time, whether by promotion or demotion, is not the best course of action. Your younger brother has a suggestion. It would be better to have Gan Luo join the Yin-Yang School, temporarily away from the court's strife, and devote himself to cultivation."

Meeting Ying Zheng's probing gaze, he continued:

"Once he has washed away his superficiality and comprehended the great Dao, he will return under the name 'Star Soul' to serve the Great Qin. In this way, we can both preserve his talent and sever his last ties with the old Lü clan. His wisdom is almost supernatural, and he may have a special affinity for the arts of Yin and Yang."

"Star Soul..."

Ying Zheng pondered the name, a glint of light flashing in his eyes.

Qin Chuan's proposal cleverly transformed a potential political threat into a controllable force with a promising future.

The Yin-Yang School, though detached from worldly affairs, was closely connected with the Qin Dynasty, making it indeed the most suitable place for Gan Luo.

“Good! This is an excellent suggestion! As you say, let Gan Luo join the Yin Yang School. I want to see a completely new ‘Star Soul’.”

Even after the matter of Gan Luo was settled, the solemnity between Ying Zheng's brows did not completely dissipate.

He turned his gaze to Qin Chuan and posed another, even more thorny question:

"Lü Buwei is gone, but his henchmen and his network are deeply entrenched and extend throughout the court and the country. This weapon of destruction cannot be discarded, nor can it fall into the hands of others. I intend to choose a trusted confidant to take charge of this network and bring it back under the control of the king."

He paused, then uttered the name: "Zhao Gao."

Qin Chuan understood.

Zhao Gao was a meticulous and ruthless man who enjoyed Ying Zheng's deep trust. He was indeed the best candidate to take over the dark force of the Luo Wang.