We Are the Emperor's Royal Guards

Yin Pobai was not yet the trusted general who would later serve at King Zhou's side. He was only a common soldier.

As a boy, he had complained about the name his old father had given him. What a rotten name-"break" and "defeat."

Later, his father died, leaving no one at home, so he joined the army and kept the name Pobai. Things were already like this; how much more broken and defeated could he get?

Just recently, Yin Pobai had discovered that his luck had turned. King Zhou had actually selected three hundred personal guards to train himself, and he was one of the lucky few.

King Zhou treated them so well!

There was no extra training. They simply shouted slogans and took longer strides when they walked.

Although that could strain their balls and was exhausting, it meant they got delicious food.

Fish and meat, fine wines and choice brews-his comrades had all eaten themselves fat, and even Yin Pobai, who exercised every day, had developed a little belly.

Who cared about their soaring weight? Eating and drinking their fill was one of life's great pleasures.

"We are the Emperor's Royal Guards!"

They shouted that one line every day, and gradually, Yin Pobai began to feel proud.

He was proud to be a soldier of Great Shang, proud to be one of the Emperor's Royal Guards!

The cries ringing in his ears surged like a tide.

Was Yuan Futong frightening?

Yes. Alone on horseback, he charged as though no one stood in his way. No one could withstand even one exchange with him; they did not even dare take a step forward.

But they were not afraid.

Because they were the Emperor's Royal Guards.

"We are the Emperor's Royal Guards!"

Yin Pobai watched a comrade shout their slogan and charge toward Yuan Futong without a backward glance, using his flesh-and-blood body to block the galloping horse.

A spear soon impaled him beneath the horse. His big belly was ripped open, spilling blood all over the ground.

Did they regret it? No. They were the Emperor's Royal Guards.

They could not tear tigers and bears apart with their bare hands like General E Lai, nor did they possess General Kong's profound mastery of Daoist arts, but they were the Emperor's Royal Guards.

One guard after another rushed forward, each following those who fell, making shields of their flesh and walls of their sinews and bones.

"We are the Emperor's Royal Guards!" Their voices rang louder than ever before.

Yin Pobai's blood boiled, and he charged forward too.

His name did not mean he was broken and defeated. He would break everyone who stood against King Zhou. He would defeat everyone who stood against King Zhou, because-

"We are the Emperor's Royal Guards!"

Yin Pobai felt the cold of the spear entering his body, without a shred of regret.

As one of the Emperor's Royal Guards, it was only right that he die fighting for the emperor on the battlefield.

Whoosh.

A streak of light fell. Yuan Futong froze on horseback, his spear slipped from his hand, and he tumbled off his mount.

The spearhead had only pierced Yin Pobai's belly. It hurt a little, but he had been eating well lately and had plenty of fat there. His internal organs were unharmed. It was nothing serious.

Just before Yin Pobai fell, he saw Kong Xuan's faint smile and Fei Lian sitting in the center of the army, as immovable as a mountain.

As expected of the generals His Majesty had personally appointed. Ordinary men could not even glimpse the dust left in their wake.

In truth, Fei Lian had been scared stiff, too frightened to move. What the hell was this? Yuan Futong had been fleeing like a rat with his head tucked away, and now he suddenly wanted to take the commanding general's head amid a battling army?

Fortunately, they had been there.

Recovering his composure, Fei Lian looked at the corpses strewn across the ground, then at the fewer than thirty guards who remained, his gaze filled with admiration.

Chaoge, the Nine-Bay Hall.

That was where court assemblies were held.

"Your Majesty, please reconsider!"

As soon as Wen Zhong returned, he had taken Huang Feihu's place at the head of the military officials. Now he was prostrate on the floor, offering loyal remonstrance.

Behind him, Huang Feihu and the other military officials were likewise prostrate.

Their aim was to stop Zi Shou from continuing to train soldiers.

I just won't listen.

Zi Shou sat on his throne, unmoved.

Ever since Wen Zhong returned to court from the North Sea, he had been trying to dissuade Zi Shou from training his guards.

What sort of training was this? Huge strides? Crooked, disorderly ranks? Were these soldiers? Were these personal guards?

The next time the king went out, it would be a minor matter if these fat guards who could not even walk properly knocked over a few old men and women and were made to pay compensation. But what if they damaged the emperor's image?

Was this what the Emperor's Royal Guards looked like?

One glimpse of them was enough to tell what sort of emperor he was.

Naturally, Zi Shou refused. He was counting on them to harvest foolishness value. Wen Zhong, no matter how much you lecture me, I won't listen. I just won't! I'm a foolish ruler!

A month had already passed. Wen Zhong patiently remonstrated at every court assembly, while Zi Shou invariably brushed him off. That behavior could earn him a little foolishness value too.

It would be perfect if Wen Zhong finally lost his patience and, invoking his status as grand preceptor to three reigns and a minister entrusted with the late king's heir, pointed at his nose and gave him a thorough scolding.

Better still if he struck him a few times with the Male-Female Whip. It would certainly hurt, but his foolishness value would definitely skyrocket.

Zi Shou was just waiting for the foolishness value settlement so he could exchange it for a few pills to take. He had never experienced what cultivating immortality felt like in this life.

After Wen Zhong finished his remonstrance, Huang Feihu began voicing his agreement.

At first, Huang Feihu had not cared. If the king wanted to train them, let him. But when he discovered that King Zhou was staying away from the Imperial Harem because he was drilling his guards day and night, he realized the matter was serious.

The Huang family were maternal relatives of the emperor. Besides his family's hereditary legacy, his younger sister in the palace was important too.

His sister, Noble Consort Huang, had not even conceived a child yet. Why had King Zhou stopped favoring her?

Even if she could not bear a child, it would still be useful for her to whisper into his ear in bed and gather a little information.

Zi Shou did not actually want this either. Who did not love beautiful women? He had seen the consorts in the Imperial Harem; even the least attractive scored a seven.

But he did not know them well and felt too awkward to make a move. Besides, what if they discovered he was a transmigrator?

He could only proceed slowly. The most direct way to be a foolish ruler-losing himself beneath beautiful women's skirts-could not be put into practice just yet.

"Urgent dispatch from the North Sea!"

Just then, a messenger who had ridden who knew how many swift horses to death rushed into the hall. He had barely taken out the bamboo slips before he collapsed on the floor, foaming at the mouth.

"Drag him out and bury him." Zi Shou waved a hand, barely containing his excitement. Fei Lian must have failed to suppress the rebellion, right?

He did feel a little sorry for the army that had been sacrificed, though.

At that thought, Zi Shou's feelings grew complicated again. Was it right for me to do this? To throw away an army's lives just to become a foolish ruler?

A personal guard stuck out his big belly and swaggered along, dawdling for ages before finally reaching the messenger. He checked the man's breathing. "Your Majesty, he's still alive."

Still conflicted, Zi Shou thought for a moment before saying, "Build him a better grave. He'll die eventually."

Just listen to that. Was that something a human being should say?

Rewarding a living man with a grave surely met the standard for a foolish ruler.

The messenger was taken aside for the imperial physician to examine, and the bamboo slips reached Zi Shou's hands. After reading only a few lines, his hands shook, and he dropped them.

Now his feelings were no longer complicated. The rebellion had been suppressed, and Yuan Futong had been beheaded.

The wording used in the dispatch was "a great victory."

A civil official knew how to command an army in battle?

A civil official had dealt with Yuan Futong in a little over a month, when Wen Zhong had needed fifteen years in Investiture of the Gods?

The bamboo slips rolled to Wen Zhong's feet. He picked them up and skimmed them. As expected, the rebellion had been suppressed.

What surprised him, however, was the merit Fei Lian had reported on behalf of a hundred of the Emperor's Royal Guards.

What kind of fearless spirit did they possess? They had used their lives to shield their commander from the enemy?

In an instant, nothing else mattered.

Their image? Unimportant. Their marching steps? Unimportant.

If the Emperor's Royal Guards could fearlessly lay down their lives to protect the emperor, that was enough.

With delighted surprise on his face, Wen Zhong thundered his praise of the king's wisdom.

After he finished reading out the contents of the bamboo slips, the civil and military officials all joined in, their praise of the king's wisdom roaring like a mountain chorus.

The imperial physician at the side joined in too.

Zi Shou's face darkened. He had no idea why that fellow was joining the excitement. Then he looked over. Well, the messenger really was dead.

PS: The contract's signed. Invest early.

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