Chapter 273: The False Emperor Indeed Doesn't Fuss Over Trifles

Guo Ming’s strength broke through again, gaining another Mao Shi Tai Chong Sword, yet his power remained at Level 3, not advancing a full tier as before.

Clearly, tier advancement had altered the upper limit.

Meanwhile, the Ning Prince’s army surged forward, showing no sign of stopping.

To them, Chu Danqing and his group were not the target—they could simply crush them underfoot.

If only Chu Danqing and Da Bao were present, they truly couldn’t hold back such a massive force.

But with Guo Ming here, it was different: the Su Nu Sword Spirit appeared behind him and raised his spear to fire.

A furious torrent of sword qi instantly swept through the advancing army, which showed no sign of slowing.

Simultaneously, four flying swords formed the Four Symbols Sword Array.

At that moment, the Ning Prince’s army was ripped open by a vast gash of blood and flesh.

They paid the price for their contempt.

“Boldness indeed!” A roar rang out—Chu Danqing saw a Dimension Adept arrive first, accompanied by his summoned creatures.

Chu Danqing glanced at him, then ignored him outright.

An Adept joining the Ning Prince’s side was no surprise; the man had recognized Chu Danqing as an Adept and volunteered to deal with him.

But the moment he arrived, he saw Guo Ming sweeping the battlefield with five swords.

The Adept involuntarily swallowed hard and turned to flee.

Yet since he’d come—and had even drawn Guo Ming’s attention—the Zi Shi Shen Hou Sword effortlessly skewered him and his summons like a string of dumplings.

“Mixed quality,” Chu Danqing sighed. “Back in my Reserve Class sprint course, the Hei Ya from the Longhu Alliance was truly formidable.”

As he spoke, the Ning Prince’s army slowed its assault and parted to form a passage.

Out rode an old man in golden armor, broad-faced with a long beard, flanked by a retinue of guards on a towering steed.

“You’re the Ning Prince?” Chu Danqing sized him up, then spoke.

He gave Guo Ming a glance, signaling: seize the chance and kill him outright.

“I was indeed the Ning Prince once,” Yang Zhenhao said. “But I ascended the throne by imperial edict. Now I am Emperor Anyong. You should address me as Your Majesty.”

His voice carried no arrogance, but instead felt like a gentle spring breeze.

Chu Danqing suspected it was the charm effect from his Zi Fu Spirit Beast, Zheng Yan Lu.

Still, he estimated this charm stat was inferior to his own—though their charm types differed.

His was more like brainwashing; Chu Danqing’s was pure affinity.

They shared similarities, but one directly altered perception, while the other subtly shifted inclinations.

“Is your claim as Emperor Anyong legitimate?” Chu Danqing felt the situation had taken a sharp turn.

Originally, his target was the debauched Emperor Anyong, Yang Qianzheng—only to find the man was merely mediocre, not monstrous.

Then his target became the Ning Prince, but he was still just a regional prince.

Now the man had declared himself emperor, and the Paradise system labeled him a False Emperor—so was he truly an emperor?

“Of course it’s legitimate,” Yang Zhenhao replied. “Since ancient times, if a ruler has no son, the throne passes to his brother. Yang Qianzheng was merely an adopted son.”

“What justifies his succession?”

“But at least he doesn’t treat the people as grass,” Chu Danqing said. “He doesn’t use them as mere fuel.” He never believed in legitimacy or bloodline.

He didn’t care who sat on the throne—he cared only whether the people lived better.

“Great men don’t fuss over trifles,” Yang Zhenhao dismissed him.

A few deaths? Once he was seated, learned scholars would justify him.

A tarnished reputation? No matter—he could restore it with benevolent rule.

What would history say? After death, let the floods rise.

Chu Danqing shook his head at this: “If you can’t sweep your own house, how can you sweep the world?”

As he spoke, Guo Ming moved.

Yang Zhenhao was about to retort when flying swords struck.

He’d spoken at length precisely to recruit Guo Ming.

Such power, if turned to his side, would be a tremendous asset.

“Scoundrel!” Yang Zhenhao cursed. His spirit beast, Zheng Yan Lu, materialized, and countless Zheng Yan Souls rushed to shield him.

Simultaneously, his guards and generals reacted, striking out immediately.

Chu Danqing wasn’t just idle chatter—he was buying time for Da Gu’s incantation.

Why not cast earlier? There was no target.

Killing common soldiers was useless. Killing even one officer—or a core figure in the Ning Prince’s army—was far more effective.

He hadn’t expected the Ning Prince to come to the front line himself. Clearly, Guo Ming’s allure was immense.

Bei Hui Feng pierced through layers of defense, joining forces with Chou Shi Da Ji Sword to instantly shred the Zheng Yan Souls’ protective wall.

Seeing his situation turn dire, Yang Zhenhao activated his life-saving treasure at once—his figure twisted, then vanished from his horse.

He retreated straight to the central command.

Bei Hui Feng and Chou Shi Da Ji Sword struck empty air.

Under Da Gu’s control, Bei Hui Feng selected another target: a high-ranking officer.

Chou Shi Da Ji Sword chose another.

“Guo Brother, handle the False Emperor. I’ll take care of the rest,” Chu Danqing said, snatching up the Yue Lan Totem Pole.

Guo Ming glanced at Chu Danqing, hesitant: “Can you handle it?”

Chu Danqing hadn’t fought in a long time—Guo Ming knew this.

“I can!” Chu Danqing replied, immediately swinging the Yue Lan Totem Pole.

Twenty points of strength—even without any buffs—was brutally potent.

“Da Bao, guard Chu Brother. I’ll be back soon,” Guo Ming knew that to crush this hundred-thousand-strong army fastest, he must capture the leader.

Kill the False Emperor, and the rest would crumble.

After giving his orders, Guo Ming rode his sword straight after Yang Zhenhao, carving a bloody path through the army with raw sword qi, intent, and momentum.

“Protect the Emperor! Reinforce the Emperor!” Several generals shouted frantically.

Chu Danqing and Guo Ming’s conversation hadn’t been hidden—it had been heard.

“Too late,” Chu Danqing said, swinging the Yue Lan Totem Pole with ferocious force. Anyone who dared approach had no chance.

Meanwhile, Bei Hui Feng began its incantation again, while Da Bao tore apart spirit beasts diving from the sky with his claws.

Good news: most capable officers had returned to rescue Yang Zhenhao. Those left were mere soldiers.

They shared one trait: low strength.

Spirit beasts averaged around 10 points; soldiers were even lower—only 7.

With Chu Danqing’s 20-point quintuple stat, even without combat skill, as long as he swung the Yue Lan Totem Pole, no one could get close.

One man approached—he smashed. A group approached—he swept.

With Da Bao covering his blind spots, Chu Danqing carved out a wide empty zone around him.

But lacking foundational skills, his wild swings drained his stamina rapidly.

His HP was at 50%, and his overall condition wasn’t good.

Yet he held firm.

As soldiers fell, others hesitated, circling him but unwilling to step into the range of his Yue Lan Totem Pole.

“What? Afraid to come?” Chu Danqing taunted. “Stupid, but at least you know your life matters.”

“The False Emperor feasts safely behind, while you eat bran and swallow chaff, dying to fill the lines. I thought you had no brains at all.”

His words, combined with the initial goodwill from Tian Ri’s Table and his own charm stat, caused the soldiers’ expressions to shift slightly.

“Do you know why the False Emperor led his army to kill me?” Chu Danqing asked, then answered himself: “Because I slaughtered every single Yecha Spirit Beast he raised with human lives. Yes—the Taijiang Garrison.”

“Guess who supplied those lives: officials’ families—or ordinary folk like you?”

“Right—it was people just like you. He himself said: great men don’t fuss over trifles.”

“Perhaps your own family members were already used as fuel for his Yecha Spirit Beasts,” Chu Danqing added, shifting tone.

Chu Danqing’s charm-induced affinity began to counteract the False Emperor’s Zheng Yan Lu charm effect.

Yang Zhenhao was too busy saving himself, while Chu Danqing stood here in person—his influence clearly outweighed the other’s.

After speaking, the soldiers’ expressions grew visibly troubled.

“Now, you are traitors.”

“I know rebellion isn’t your choice—you were coerced.”

“The False Emperor used three thousand women’s souls to evolve his Zheng Yan Lu, deceiving you. Turn back now while you still can.”

“Even if you wish to earn glory as a loyalist, forget whether he can succeed in this treason—he’s defied all heaven. Can you even survive to claim your reward?”

“Think of your families. Is this worth it?”

“It’s not too late to turn back.”

“Now, join me to capture the False Emperor—not just to redeem yourselves, but to seize the rebel emperor and earn the glory of quelling rebellion!” As he spoke, his charm stat reached its peak.

Chu Danqing didn’t just appeal to righteousness—he offered them a way out, assurance of no punishment, and the promise of reward.

If he could successfully turn even a portion of the soldiers, he could break the whole line open and expand his advantage.

Whether it would work? Chu Danqing had no idea. He wasn’t some bearded orator in a beer hall—he could only do his part and leave the rest to fate.

Fortunately, as he finished, the first soldier raised his arm and shouted: “Kill the False Emperor! Quell the Rebellion!”

(End of Chapter)