Chapter 6

The old man said they were going up the mountain, and Zhang Chao really thought they were going to hide in the mountains. But after the group rode hard for about an hour, they actually arrived at a brightly lit mountain stronghold.

It was a stockade built halfway up the mountainside. Zhang Chao looked up and saw that this great mountain, hidden in the darkness, was quite tall, and its ridges stretched far and wide.

The stockade itself was built in a valley, and at the mouth of the valley stood a simple stockade gate. Above the gate, six or seven torches had been lit with a touch of extravagance, and beneath those torches, patrols of two or three men passed by from time to time, each carrying a weapon.

"Is that old Zhong back? Ha ha! Which one is the Second Young Lord? Please wait a moment — I'll come down myself to pay my respects!"

The five of them had just led their horses to the stockade gate when a rough, booming shout came from the simple stockade wall. In the torchlight, a burly man wearing a wrapped headscarf scrambled down in a few quick moves, and right after came the heavy creak of the gate opening.

"Ah! Truly a scion of the imperial house, a man of outstanding bearing! The Second Young Lord deserves a bow from me!"

The voice arrived before the man did. Zhang Chao squinted into the torchlight and took a careful look: this was an extremely thick-set man, a bit taller than him, maybe one meter seventy-eight. An orange cotton robe with a wrapped headscarf made him look quite imposing, though something seemed wrong with his left eye.

The burly man who walked up actually did start to bow, but Zhang Chao had no idea how to handle this kind of etiquette! He knew the crossed-hands salute, but anything beyond that was hopeless — who could remember all those ancient rules!

Old Zhong, standing beside him, glanced at Zhang Chao and assumed the young lord was having another bout of his dull-witted sickness, so he hurried forward and helped the burly man up.

"The young lord has been jolted about on the road; his head is still a little muddled!"

That served as a small explanation on Zhang Chao's behalf. Then the old man, Zhong, took Zhang Chao by the hand and pulled him a little closer to the bowing man.

"Young lord, Brother Qi is a man of loyalty and righteousness! He has always kept His Majesty's past kindness on his lips. Without Brother Qi's full support, whether this great undertaking could succeed — this old servant had not the slightest confidence."

"Eh! Why all this bookish 'Brother Qi' talk? Second Young Lord, I've got a nickname — Qi the Blind Tiger. If it pleases the Second Young Lord, just call me Blind Tiger; if it doesn't, calling me Blind Qi is fine too."

"Back then, if His Majesty had not saved my father and mother from the Canwei people, would there be a Qi the Blind Tiger today? The Second Young Lord is the only bloodline His Majesty left behind, and I, Qi the Blind Tiger, acknowledge you!"

Now Zhang Chao heard it clearly. Earlier, when he'd heard "scion of the imperial house," he'd suspected he might have misheard, but now old Zhong and Qi the Blind Tiger had said "His Majesty" twice in a row — surely he couldn't have misheard that?

His Majesty?

His Majesty!

Eh? I hit it? I hit it!

I hit the transmigrator's jackpot — born straight into an imperial family?

Heh heh! Zhang Chao was woodenly led by old Zhong into the stockade, but his mind was so dizzied by the sudden wild joy that he felt light-headed.

But he didn't notice that behind him, Lady Cao's face had suddenly turned deathly pale, and she even seemed reluctant to follow them into the stockade — clearly she had thought of something.

Zhang Chao looked around. These side-slit robes, the headscarves, and the Uyghurs — this was obviously Tang dynasty style!

His Majesty's only bloodline? Hmm? So that means the body my bro Chao transmigrated into isn't just a prince — it's the only prince?

Ya ha ha ha! Zhang Chao's face was about to split from grinning. What a stroke of luck! I've transmigrated into a prince — and not just any prince, the only prince.

Wait a few years, and that means Emperor! Then the three palaces, six courts, and seventy-two consorts — wouldn't I just go wild? Hmm! Once I've figured out my identity, I'll start by taking Lady Cao, that pretty widow, as a concubine.

So then, Zhang Chao rubbed his chin — which Tang dynasty prince had he transmigrated into?

If this were the Ming dynasty, Zhang Chao would have figured it out quickly. His Majesty's only son, tall and strong — it would have to be the number-one hot pick for transmigrators in my Great Ming, the Mighty General and Chief Military Commissioner Zhu Shou, Zhu Houzhao, my Zhengde Great Player!

But in the Tang dynasty — uh — it seems Tang emperors all had quite a lot of sons.

The Taizong period is definitely out — Old Li the Second had so many sons he could afford to kill two of them with his own hands.

Of course, I can also rule out the extremely dangerous Wu Zhou period. Being a son of my Zetian Great Sage Empress would not be easy — those weren't sons, they were stepping stones and stumbling blocks on her imperial road, and if things went wrong, off went your head.

Uh — holy shit! Could my old man be that sewer-dweller Emperor Xizong, Li Xuan? Seems like among Tang emperors, he was the only one with few sons?

No! Impossible! I was twenty-eight before transmigrating, and Emperor Xizong was only twenty-six or twenty-seven when he died, and his two sons died even earlier than he did.

Then... if it's not even Emperor Xizong, it's even less likely to be Emperor Zhaozong — that man had plenty of sons. Emperor Ai? Also impossible — Emperor Ai was only fifteen or sixteen when he died.

At this thought, an irrepressible delight spread across Zhang Chao's face. Whichever Tang emperor it was, as long as it wasn't Xizong, Zhaozong, or Emperor Ai, it would do.

Because as long as it wasn't those three, the situation in any other Tang emperor's reign wasn't too bad. Whether under Emperor Jingzong or Emperor Wenzong, the Great Tang could still hold itself together, and with my transmigrator's advantages, wouldn't I bring about a restoration far surpassing the Huichang restoration?

Dreaming his jackpot dream and thinking of the three palaces, six courts, and seventy-two consorts, Zhang Chao dizzily followed them into the main hall of the stockade.

Don't laugh at my bro Chao for lacking ambition — are you kidding? An emperor! Above ten thousand upon ten thousand people! One word could decide the life and death of countless people!

Before transmigrating, the biggest official my bro Chao had ever met was a deputy county magistrate, and even that had felt like a proper big shot to Zhang Chao.

But before an emperor, a deputy county magistrate — not even equal to a county assistant — counted as an official? Could anyone below the eighth rank even be called an official? Going from corporate drone to emperor — no matter who it was, anyone would be so happy they couldn't find north!

However, after about ten minutes of dreaming, Zhang Chao's heart began to cool. Once his intelligence returned to him, he started to notice that something was off.

This place... tsk! He studied the main hall. Directly opposite was a large couch-bed draped with a leopard skin, and on the left and right, seven or eight square stools were arranged in rows, with a long, narrow table in the middle. Very crude, very rough!

How is this transmigrating into a prince? There's something wrong with this transmigration!

If I'd really transmigrated into a prince, even if I didn't wake up in the imperial palace, it should at least be some prince's mansion, right? At the very least, there should be a proper residence and a few palace maids and serving girls around!

Who ever heard of transmigrating into a prince and waking up stark naked in a broken cave? It's not like I soul-traveled into Zhu the Third Prince!

And this hall — it doesn't look the slightest bit royal. It looks more like the bandit gathering hall you always see on TV?

What does this mean?

The emperor went up the mountain to become a bandit?

Don't tell me I've transmigrated into the Republican era? My dad is Zuo Shandiao?

No! No! In the Republican era nobody dressed or talked like this. From the looks of it, I must be some exiled prince whose father was usurped or something.

But this is too miserable — I have to start from a mountain stronghold? Could it really be the Xizong period, with the Heaven-Storming Great General already filling the city with golden armor? No, I need to ask and find out right away!

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