Chapter 698: Let the Emperor Sit on Top

Lu Wu nodded, half-believing and half-doubting.

Soon, the servants carried in a large tub; the water inside still gave off a chill, ice cubes floated on the surface, bumping the tub walls with a clinking sound.

Mo Zhanggeng stood up, walked to the tub's edge, reached out to test the water temperature, nodded in satisfaction: "Alright, help him in."

Two servants, one on each side, helped Lu Wu up and walked to the tub's edge.

Lu Wu lowered his head to glance at the tub full of icy water, hesitated a moment.

Mo Zhanggeng urged impatiently: "Hurry up! I'm tired, I don't have time to waste with you."

Lu Wu gritted his teeth, lifted his leg and slumped into the tub.

The icy water didn't reach his waist; a chill instantly swept over his whole body.

That persistent itch indeed subsided by more than half.

Lu Wu let out a long breath, leaned against the tub wall, his whole body relaxed: "The Divine Doctor really is formidable!"

Mo Zhanggeng snorted, turned and left without looking back.

The servants also withdrew, closing the door behind them.

Lu Wu closed his eyes, leaned against the tub, enjoying this rare comfort.

But not long after, the icy water in the tub grew so cold he could barely bear it, his teeth began to chatter.

He opened his eyes, lowered his head to look at the ice cubes in the tub, hesitated a moment.

Get out?

I finally stopped itching—what if it comes back?

He gritted his teeth, shrank back, arms tightly wrapped around himself, curled up in the tub, shivering from the cold.

But the ice cubes in the tub gradually melted, the cold water slowly turning lukewarm.

Lu Wu's shivering hadn't stopped when that familiar itch crept up again.

He gritted his teeth and endured, his forehead veins jumping, uttering a string of low curses in Eastern Barbarian language.

Tuan Tuan whispered: "What is he saying?"

Lu Qi snorted: "Anyway, it's not human speech."

Xiao Ningyuan and Xiao Er both laughed.

Inside, Lu Wu could no longer bear it; with a "splash" he sprang up from the tub, water spraying everywhere.

He was soaked barefoot, hopping on the icy floor, both hands frantically scratching his body, shouting: "Someone! Come quickly!"

Several servants who had already gone to rest, hearing the shouts, reluctantly got up again.

That Eastern Barbarian old man has so many troubles!

They threw on their clothes, pushed the door open, and seeing his appearance, they were stunned.

"Monk, what's wrong with you again?"

Lu Wu shivered from the cold, his upper and lower teeth clacking nonstop: "Sneeze, quick! Sneeze sneeze, go find me ice! The more the better! Sneeze!"

One servant looked embarrassed: "The ice is all used up; we've already poured it all in for you."

Another muttered: "We're not immortals; no matter what, we have to wait until daylight to go buy more."

"You lot!" Lu Wu trembled all over, not knowing whether he was cold or angry.

He shivered his lips, not having uttered a single curse word, when his back started itching again.

He reached out to scratch, but couldn't reach, so he could only rub desperately against the door frame.

His two hands flailed up and down, scratching everywhere; the Silver Needles swayed in the candlelight, casting his face in alternating light and shadow.

"It itches! I'm dying of itch!"

Just then, the door was pushed open again.

Mo Zhanggeng entered, carrying his medicine box, yawning.

He saw Lu Wu's appearance at a glance, his brows furrowed: "Why are you standing here?"

"Didn't I tell you sitting in there would stop the itch?"

Lu Wu's voice changed tone: "Divine Doctor! The ice melted! It's itching again!"

Mo Zhanggeng walked to the tub's edge, reached out to test the water temperature, waved his hand impatiently: "Alright, alright, stop fussing; stay still, I'll pull out the needles for you."

Lu Wu hurriedly sat upright, daring not to move.

Mo Zhanggeng raised his hand and swiftly pulled out the Silver Needles from Lu Wu's head one by one, placing them into the needle case.

With the restraints gone from Lu Wu's head, wet and sticking to his scalp, the itch exploded from the crown of his head.

He raised his hand to scratch, fingers digging into his hair, scratching back and forth frenziedly.

In an instant, his hair was torn apart by his scratching, his clothes wet and disordered; at a glance he looked like a water ghost just crawled out of a river.

Mo Zhanggeng quickly stepped back a few steps, his face showing undisguised disdain: "Alright, the needles are out; rest well." Having said that, he turned to leave.

"Divine Doctor!" Lu Wu grabbed his sleeve in desperation: "You can't leave! I'm itching unbearably! You're a doctor, you have to treat me!"

"You know that too!" Mo Zhanggeng wrenched his sleeve from Lu Wu's grasp: "I still have to go to Cheng Jing's place to treat his headache."

"You don't have a serious ailment; medical clinics are everywhere in Jingcheng—have them get someone else to treat you." Having said that, he picked up his medicine box and left without looking back.

Lu Wu stood frozen on the spot, soaked through, hair disheveled, in a sorry state.

On the roof, Tuan Tuan laughed so hard her whole body went limp, her little finger pointing down, her small shoulders shaking.

Xiao Er, afraid she'd fall, held her with one hand, but his own mouth corners likewise couldn't help but twitch.

Lu Qi laughed so hard he clutched his stomach, his chest heaving violently.

Xiao Ningyuan covered his mouth, patted his sister's little hand, and pointed outside.

Tuan Tuan glanced at him, then turned her head to look at Mo Zhanggeng's house.

Mo Zhanggeng had already gone inside, doors and windows shut tight.

I couldn't even say a word to Master—what a pity.

"Miss," Xiao Er said, lifting her, his voice low, "Let's see the Divine Doctor another day."

Tuan Tuan nodded, waved her little hand toward Mo Zhanggeng's house, and the group silently left the roof, disappearing into the night.

The next day, in Zichen Hall.

Chen Wang looked at the morning report from the Ministry of War in his hand: "The Xibei rebels have broken through Chen Cang and are marching straight on Jingcheng."

After reading it, he passed the report to Qing Wang.

Qing Wang glanced at it and smirked: "Finally."

"He comes fast—if Xiao Yuanhang doesn't move, he's fine; once he moves, it's with divine speed." The Masked Man nodded, "Now is the time for you to show your mettle—do as you see fit."

"Whether you, the Regent King, can stay in power—and for how long—depends on the outcome of this battle."

"I've long wanted to meet this God of War, Xiao Yuanhang." Qing Wang's eyes lit up. "If I could defeat him, who in the world would dare oppose me?"

He turned to Chen Wang and said, "Brother Prince, it's time to issue the orders."

The Masked Man rose, patted the armrest of the Dragon Throne, and said, "Come, sit here and write."

Chen Wang stood, straightened his robes, walked to the Dragon Desk, and sat down properly.

The Masked Man personally ground the ink, dipped the brush, and handed him the writing brush soaked in ink.

Chen Wang seized the brush and wrote swiftly, issuing one royal order after another.

"First order: Closed Gate. Anyone who opens the gate without permission— the commander will be executed, the deputy punished collectively, and the gate area stacked with stone beams and sandbags."

"Second order: Scorched Earth. All homes, pastures, and forests within thirty li of Jingcheng outside the city are to be burned and leveled, with wells poisoned or filled in."

"Third order: City Wall. Install cannons and firearms on the battlements, and prepare large quantities of fire oil."

"Fourth order: Collective Punishment. Five households form a bao, ten households a jia; if one household collaborates with the enemy, all ten are punished."

"Fifth order: Conscription. Males aged fourteen to sixty are enrolled as labor conscripts, tasked with hauling logs and stone rollers, and producing molten gold."

"Sixth order: Grain Distribution. Open the granaries to distribute garrison grain to the populace, with heavy troops stationed to prevent unrest."

"Anyone not holding the Regent King's order may not mobilize a single soldier; violators will be executed on the spot."

Chen Wang set down the brush, blew on the wet ink, and asked, "Top Honored, how is it?"

The Masked Man glanced at it and said, "I'm not a military officer; you decide on these matters."

He pondered: "Have everyone's tokens notched; seize anyone holding a token without a notch."

"Notch the tokens?" Qing Wang wondered, "Top Honored, if we're making a mark, it's hard to make all the notches identical."

"No problem," the Masked Man said calmly, "as long as there's a notch."

"On the day of the siege, set up a high platform on the city wall, lift the Dragon Throne onto it, and let the Emperor sit above."