21: Chapter 21: I deserve death,for trusting the wrong people.
21: Chapter 21: I deserve death,for trusting the wrong people.
The heavy velvet drapes of the bedchamber were drawn shut, filtering the afternoon light into a quiet, amber twilight.
Standing around the foot of the silk mattress were three of the most powerful men in the Sun Moon Empire: Guardian Elder Ye Guan, Hall Master Kong Deming, and Duke Yang.
Their shadows stretched long across the marble floor as they looked down at the seven-year-old boy lying cross-legged on the bed, his chin resting casually on his hand.
Suddenly, Xu Xuandong shifted his weight and turned his gaze up toward them.
The three elders subtly froze.
In that single, fleeting instant, the childish innocence completely melted from the Crown Prince’s face.
The eyes staring back at them did not belong to a seven-year-old child trapped in palace luxury.
They were dark, cold, and heavy with a terrifying, unyielding weight—the gaze of a battle-tested veteran who had marched through mountains of corpses and fought through countless bloody wars.
As a high general who had commanded legion forces across blood-soaked battlefields, Duke Yang recognized that look more intimately than anyone in the room.
It was the gaze of a commander who had already accepted the brutal reality of war and was prepared to pay any price for total victory.
Inside his mind, Xuandong’s thoughts were spinning at breakneck speed.
Zhongli Wu is dead, Xuandong calculated silently.
We completely erased the Master of the Holy Spirit Cult.
There’s no turning back now—the bridge between us and the Evil Soul Masters is burned to absolute ashes.
It’s only a matter of time before Ye Xushi discovers her son’s death and unleashes the full, terrifying wrath of a Rank 99 Limit Douluo upon us.
We need to reach peak strength, and we need to do it right now.
Breaking the heavy silence, Xuandong reached into his spatial storage ring and produced a thick, tightly sealed leather scroll.
He held it out toward Ye Guan.
“Senior Ye,” Xuandong said, his voice flat and authoritative.
“Inside this scroll are the precise locations, supply routes, and secret channels of the Holy Spirit Cult’s underground network.” Ye Guan accepted the scroll, his golden eyes widening slightly.
“Your Highness…
how did you gather intelligence on their hidden bases so quickly?” Xuandong gave a faint, wry smirk.
He wasn’t about to explain the sheer efficiency of his Druid class abilities—specifically using Animal Friendship to command the city’s vast, invisible army of sewer rats to scurry through every back-alley dark market and underground hub in Mingdu.
“My rat network in the underworld dark market is remarkably thorough,” Xuandong replied casually.
“Information travels fast when nobody pays attention to the vermin under their feet.
Senior Ye, I want you to personally lead the Angel Legion to systematically purge every hideout listed in that scroll.” He paused, his eyes narrowing sharply.
“However…
you are strictly ordered to operate only within my father’s political territory.” Duke Yang’s brow furrowed.
“Only in His Majesty’s territory?” Xuandong turned his gaze directly onto the old general.
“Correct.
And you, Duke Yang, will mobilize your military forces to join the operation—but your targets will focus exclusively within my uncle Prince Xu Gongfeng’s territory.
Meanwhile, the territorial assets of the Natural Faction are to be left completely unharmed.” Kong Deming’s sharp eyes glinted as the tactical genius behind the order clicked in his mind.
By striking the Holy Spirit Cult inside the Emperor’s land while simultaneously wiping out their cells in Xu Gongfeng’s land—all while leaving the Natural Faction untouched—they would engineer a massive, catastrophic misunderstanding.
The Holy Spirit Cult would believe Xu Gongfeng was selling them out to protect his own skin, while Xu Gongfeng would assume the Evil Soul Masters were intentionally staging attacks to frame his faction.
The two allied snakes would turn on each other, tearing their alliance apart from the inside out.
“Understood,” Duke Yang grinned wolfishly.
“A brilliant stroke of misdirection, Your Highness.” “We aren’t finished,” Xuandong continued smoothly, leaning forward.
“Duke Yang, I need you to deploy specialized military squads into the mountain ranges.
Capture ten-thousand-year-old flying spirit beasts.
As many as you can lay your hands on—specifically large-frame species capable of carrying heavy payloads.” Duke Yang blinked, utterly flabbergasted.
“Flying spirit beasts?
Your Highness…
what purpose could captured wild beasts serve in military operations?” Xuandong scoffed internally.
Back on Earth, he had been a Computer Science major, not an aerospace engineer or a mechanical wizard.
He didn’t have the technical blueprint layout to build supersonic F-35 stealth fighters from scratch.
But large, high-altitude flying spirit beasts equipped with mounted, heavy-duty spirit guidance artillery?
That was the Douluo Continent’s closest equivalent to a strategic bomber jet.
“You will mount heavy spirit guidance cannons onto their saddles,” Xuandong explained directly.
“Have them hover high above enemy supply lines, far out of reach of ground infantry, and carpet bomb their strongholds into dust.” The three powerhouses stood rooted to the spot, completely floored by the utterly bizarre, unheard-of tactical concept.
Aerial carpet bombing via mounted spirit beast artillery was a concept that defied traditional continent warfare entirely.
“That…
is an absurdly terrifying idea,” Duke Yang gasped, scratching his beard.
“But Your Highness, wild ten-thousand-year flying beasts are notoriously aggressive and impossible to tame.
How could we possibly control them in mid-air during a chaotic bombardment?” Xuandong waved his hand dismissively.
“Don’t worry about controlling them.
Just capture them and leave the mind control to me.” Deciding not to question the young prince’s mysterious methods, Xuandong turned his attention to the head of the Illustrious Virtue Hall.
“Master Kong, what is the current progress on the technological projects under your supervision?” Kong Deming’s face instantly flushed with absolute, giddy excitement.
“Your Highness!
Thanks to the scientific principles and theoretical frameworks you provided us from your ‘dreams’, the development progress across all ongoing projects has accelerated by over five hundred percent!” Both Duke Yang and Ye Guan snapped their heads toward Kong Deming, staring at him in utter disbelief.
“Five hundred percent?!” Duke Yang shouted.
“Old Kong, are you losing your mind?
How is a leap like that even possible?!” “Because the knowledge His Highness provided filled every critical mathematical gap we have struggled with for centuries!” Kong Deming declared passionately, throwing his hands up.
“Take the quadratic formula alone!
By applying the non-linear equation ax^2 + bx + c = 0, our soul engineers can now precisely calculate the parabolic flight trajectories of long-range artillery shells before firing!
We can mathematically map out the exact curvature needed for parabolic reflection lenses inside high-grade spirit cannons to maximize energy output, and model non-linear stress curves in conductive metal alloys without wasting years on trial-and-error forging!” Ye Guan and Duke Yang looked back at Xuandong, their gazes overflowing with profound, unshakeable respect.
To revolutionize the empire’s entire technological foundation with basic mathematical principles was nothing short of divine wisdom.
Xuandong nodded slowly, taking in the report, before his expression turned deadly serious.
“Halt all current projects immediately.” Kong Deming’s jaw dropped.
“W-What?!” “Freeze every single research line,” Xuandong commanded firmly.
“Cancel all secondary projects—including the development of the tactical nuclear soul tool.” Kong Deming looked as if his soul had been brutally ripped out of his body.
The revered, legendary head of the Illustrious Virtue Hall suddenly looked like a heartbroken eight-year-old child who had just been forcefully forbidden from playing with his absolute favorite toy.
“B-But…
my nuke…” Kong Deming whimpered quietly, his bottom lip twitching in tragic defeat.
Ignoring the old engineer’s dramatic antics, Xuandong reached into his spatial ring and pulled out a sleek, silver storage tool, placing it firmly into Kong Deming’s trembling hands.
“Inside this storage tool is a blueprint for a soul tool concept I personally designed and prototyped,” Xuandong said, his tone dropping into absolute gravity.
“It is called a ‘Computer’.
These individual units can be linked, stacked, and networked together to construct a Supercomputer.
I want the Illustrious Virtue Hall and Mingdu Hall to divert one hundred percent of their manpower, resources, and budget into researching, developing, and upgrading this concept.
Spare no effort.
Do not skimp on a single gold coin.
This device will become the absolute future of our empire.” Having lived on Earth, Xuandong knew with absolute certainty the terrifying, exponential explosion of human progress that occurred after the invention of microprocessors and modern computing.
Kong Deming pushed his spirit power into the storage tool, scanning the structural schematics.
At first, his brow furrowed in deep confusion.
The fundamental operating system relied entirely on binary logic—just two states: ON and OFF, represented by 1 and 0.
It seemed laughably simple compared to complex spirit arrays.
But as his brilliant engineering mind processed the theoretical architecture—realizing that by etching billions of microscopic ‘chips’ together, this machine could execute billions of complex calculations in a fraction of a second—his eyes dilated in sheer, unadulterated shock.
Kong Deming blinked rapidly, his hands trembling as he clutched the storage tool to his chest like a holy relic.
He bowed his head deeply to Xuandong.
“Very well, Your Highness…
It shall be done with top priority!” “Good,” Xuandong nodded softly.
He leaned back against his pillows and looked at the three men.
“Now…
tell me.
How many spirit bones are the three of you missing?” The three powerhouses froze, caught completely off guard by the sudden question.
They exchanged hesitant glances before Ye Guan stepped forward, shaking his head gently.
“Your Highness…
we are already old men whose cultivation has stagnated.
Such precious treasures as spirit bones are better reserved for the younger generation to grow.” Xuandong scoffed coldly.
“The younger generation will only find use for those spirit bones in death if we fail to survive what’s coming.
Zhongli Wu was Ye Xushi’s biological son.
Now that he is dead, she will stop at nothing to tear this capital apart to settle the account.
We need all three of you to break through your current bottlenecks and reach maximum combat strength as fast as physically possible.” Duke Yang stared deeply into the young prince’s eyes, a testing glint entering his voice.
“Your Highness…
aren’t you afraid that after giving us such legendary treasures, we might turn around and betray you to claim everything for ourselves?” Before the general could even finish his sentence, Xuandong looked him straight in the eye.
His gaze was entirely devoid of fear, doubt, or hesitation.
“Then I deserve death,” Xuandong stated with absolute, unyielding calm, “for trusting the wrong people.” A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the bedchamber.
The three legendary figures stood frozen, staring at the seven-year-old boy.
There was not a single trace of deceit or self-preservation in his eyes—only the absolute, raw resolve of a leader who gave his everything to survive and protect those under his banner.
Duke Yang, Kong Deming, and Ye Guan clenched their fists so tightly their knuckles turned stark white.
An overwhelming wave of emotion crashed over their hearts.
To think that a mere seven-year-old child was forced to navigate a bloody royal struggle, dodge continuous assassination plots from enemy factions—and even traitorous elements within his own house—while bearing the terrifying threat of a vengeful Limit Douluo and carrying the entire future of the empire on his tiny shoulders…
It was supposed to be their duty as the older generation to shield the youth and allow them to grow.
Yet here stood a child, standing firmly in front of them, watching over their lives.
Without a word, all three grand powerhouses dropped simultaneously to one knee, bowing their heads in total, absolute submission.
“No matter what comes,” Ye Guan declared, his voice echoing with sacred authority, “no matter who we must face…
we shall follow Your Highness to the very gates of death!” Xuandong rubbed his temple, letting out a small, tired sigh.
“You still haven’t answered my question.” Duke Yang looked up, a wry grin breaking through his serious expression.
“I am missing all spirit bone slots…
except for my left arm.” Xuandong nodded casually.
With a flick of his wrist, five radiant, incredibly dense spirit bones materialized on the duvet—glowing with immense elemental power.
“Take them.
The youngest is around twenty thousand years, and the oldest is roughly eighty thousand years.” Ye Guan and Kong Deming blinked rapidly, their mouths twitching at the casual display of absurd wealth.
Abandoning their previous restraint, they quickly listed their missing slots.
Xuandong didn’t hesitate for a single second, pulling out high-grade spirit bones that perfectly matched their respective attributes and handing them over.
Turning his gaze to Kong Deming, Xuandong added, “Master Kong, hold off on absorbing any spirit rings for your second martial soul for the time being.
Wait until your physical body fully adapts after absorbing these bones.” Kong Deming bowed gratefully.
“I shall heed Your Highness’s advice.” Offering their final, deeply respectful farewells, the three elders faded back into the shadows, eager to begin their closed-door cultivation to absorb the bones and break through their long-standing bottlenecks.
Left alone in the quiet room, Xuandong let out a long, heavy sigh, sinking deep into the soft mattress.
“Man…
I seriously need a break.” Dressing in a simple royal robe, he left his bedchamber and made his way through the gilded halls toward the Emperor’s private office.
Pushing the heavy mahogany doors open, he saw his father, Emperor Xu, buried behind mountain-high stacks of imperial scrolls, documents, and official petitions.
“Father,” Xuandong called out softly, leaning against the doorframe.
“Do you want to go fishing?” Emperor Xu looked up from his paperwork, his sharp eyes displaying visible exhaustion.
He gave his son a warm, apologetic smile, shaking his head gently.
“Ah, Xuandong…
I would love nothing more, but the imperial court is drowning in affairs right now.
I simply don’t have the time today, my boy.” Xuandong nodded understandingly.
“It’s fine, Father.
Don’t overwork yourself.” He quietly turned and left the office.
As he walked down the arched corridor toward the courtyard, a sharp voice called out from behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Xuandong turned to see his eldest sister, Xu Mie’er, standing there with her arms crossed, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Fishing,” Xuandong replied casually.
“Wanna join?” Xu Mie’er blinked, her fierce posture softening slightly as she looked at him.
“Are you…
actually feeling alright?” Xuandong raised an eyebrow.
“Why?
What’s wrong with going fishing?” Mie’er went completely silent.
She stared at her little brother, her lower lip trembling slightly as her eyes began to well up with quiet tears.
She remembered it vividly—ever since their beloved grandfather, the late Emperor, had passed away years ago, Xuandong had never touched a fishing rod again.
Seeing him pick it up now made an unbearable wave of nostalgic sorrow crash over her heart.
Noticing the dark, tragic atmosphere quickly spiraling out of control, Xuandong casually stepped forward, pulled a bamboo fishing rod from his spatial ring, and landed a light, comedic thwack directly on top of her head.
“Ow!” Mie’er flinched, rubbing her forehead as she glared at him.
“What was that for?!” “Are you coming or not?” Xuandong asked, rolling his eyes.
Mie’er’s lips twitched in frustration.
“Didn’t you explicitly promise Mother at breakfast that you wouldn’t annoy me until dinner time?!” “I’m helping you clear your mind, not annoying you,” Xuandong stated with absolute, unbothered confidence, turning on his heel and walking toward the palace gates.
Mie’er stood there for a second, stomping her foot in exasperation before shouting, “Hey!
Wait!
Where are you going?!” “Fishing!” Xuandong called back without slowing down.
Grumbling under her breath, Mie’er quickly trotted after him.
Half an hour later, the two royal siblings sat side by side along the quiet, grassy banks of the Imperial Reviver River.
The afternoon sun cast shimmering, golden ripples across the clear, running water.
Neither of them spoke a word.
There were no petty arguments, no explosive soul tools, and no political schemes—only the soothing, rhythmic sound of flowing water and the occasional splash of caught fish flapping inside the wicker basket beside them.
Usually, whenever Xuandong and Xu Mie’er were left in the same room for more than two minutes, a chaotic shouting match or a soul-cannon explosion was practically guaranteed.
But here, under the warm sunlight, they looked like a pair of genuinely loving, peaceful siblings.
Swoosh!
With a swift, practiced flick of her wrist, Mie’er reeled in a fat, glittering silver fish, catching it cleanly in her hands before dropping it into the basket.
A bright, genuine smile bloomed across her face.
“Hah…” Mie’er let out a long, contented sigh, looking out over the water.
“I honestly never knew fishing could be this relaxing…” She turned her head to brag about her catch to her brother—only to see Xuandong lying flat on his back in the soft grass beside her, fast asleep and snoring softly.
Mie’er huffed, rolling her eyes playfully.
“Unbelievable…
he truly never changes.” Despite her words, a soft, immensely tender smile softened her features.
Reaching down, she gently lifted her little brother’s head, resting it comfortably on her lap, and began lightly stroking his soft black hair, watching over his peaceful sleeping face.
Some time later, Xuandong’s eyelids fluttered open.
Feeling an unusually soft, comfortable pillow beneath his head, he shifted around and looked straight up—only to see his eldest sister looking down at him with an amused smirk.
“Did His Highness have a nice nap?” Mie’er teased softly.
Xuandong blinked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.
“Yeah…
How long was I out for?” “Not long,” she replied, smoothing down her skirt.
“Less than an hour.” “Thanks,” Xuandong muttered, dusting the grass off his sleeves.
Mie’er looked at him quietly for a long moment before letting out a soft chuckle.
“You know…
you’re finally starting to look like the adorable little brother I remember.” Xuandong tilted his head, looking at her.
“Did I change that much?” Mie’er blinked, her eyes drifting toward the river as she fell silent.
“You did change…” she admitted gently, her voice laced with deep reflection.
“But not in a bad way.
Back then, when you were younger…
you always had those lost, vacant eyes.
You didn’t know how to express yourself, nor how to define who you were—much less how to relate to us.
But now?
I can finally tell who my brother truly is.” She turned back to him, poking his cheek with a grin.
“Even if you’ve grown into an utterly annoying, insufferable little gremlin…
you’re still my brother.” Xuandong stared at her, a warm, genuine smile breaking across his face.
Leaning forward, he gave her a quick, affectionate kiss on the cheek.
“Since I already promised Mom not to annoy you until dinner,” Xuandong declared heroically, “I’ve decided to grant you a royal extension for the rest of the day!” Mie’er giggled loudly, shaking her head.
“Oh, is that so?
Then I shall humbly thank His Highness the Crown Prince for his boundless mercy!” She paused, suddenly remembering something, and looked at him with a puzzled brow.
“Wait a second…
why aren’t you in school today anyway?” Xuandong froze dead in his tracks.
His brain instantly short-circuited.
He blinked once, twice, staring blankly into space as a sudden, terrifying realization hit him.
Wait a minute…
Xuandong thought frantically.
Was I even a student to begin with?!
Xuandong turned his head slowly toward his sister, his face completely pale.
“Eldest Sister…
did Father or Mother ever actually register me into another academy after I got expelled from the royal primary school three months ago?” Xu Mie’er’s bright smile completely froze.
Her lips twitched violently, her forehead popping a visible vein as she stared at her brother in utter speechlessness.
“…Why is it,” Mie’er muttered under her breath, dragging a hand down her face in pure disbelief, “that absolutely nothing normal ever happens whenever you are around?”