Blood Butcher's Name Shakes Wu'an City; Fusu's Bloodied Halberd Sheds Its Confucian Haze

But at the thought of the tedious, dull business of governance, some of Zhao Cheng's enthusiasm cooled.

Fortunately, after he had gone to Ying Zheng earlier, Ying Zheng had asked Li Si to send along several capable officials skilled in governance.

Besides that, Zhao Cheng had also dragged little Fusu along.

The boy had followed him from Yingchuan to Handan. After the campaign to destroy Zhao, the bookish air about him had long since been smoked away, replaced by the iron and blood of battle.

Back when he had first joined the army, he would turn pale at the sight of blood, clutch his bamboo slips, and recite the Odes in his tent, his face full of pity.

Later, several Blood-Clad Army soldiers he had grown close to died.

He stopped reciting poetry, tossed aside his books, donned armor, picked up a Great Halberd, and charged fiercely behind Zhao Cheng.

As he fought, he would shout things like, "Since they've come, let them make themselves at home."

Or, "If I hear the Way in the morning, I can die content by evening," and the like.

In short, both the enemy troops and the Blood-Clad Army were left scratching their heads.

Some enemies couldn't understand until their dying moments why this boy, who spoke in a constant stream of classical quotations, killed with such ruthless efficiency.

Why those refined, literary words came out with such murderous force.

They truly couldn't figure it out, even as they died.

Later, Fusu could already don armor and wield a halberd. He had even managed to land himself a Captain's post in the Blood-Clad Army.

Leading a squad of Elite Soldiers into battle, he shouted louder than anyone else. Blood splashed across his Black Armor, but he didn't even bother to wipe it off before