Strongly Spoiled by the Villainous Tyrant After Climbing into the Dragon’s Bed - Chapter 11

Outside Haiyan Palace, the lamps hanging under the eaves made the golden plaque glow brilliantly.

Zhan Yueqing looked up at the plaque, and just as he was about to rush in, he stopped in his tracks.

Shouldn’t there be an announcement?

But why isn’t anyone guarding the outside?

The secret guards hiding in the shadows revealed their weapons one after another; with just one more step, Zhan Yueqing would have been pierced into a sieve on the spot.

Haiyan Palace was the Emperor’s residence. While it appeared empty on the surface, the secret defenses were numerous.

Zhan Yueqing inexplicably felt a slight chill on his body, as if sitting on pins and needles. He hesitated for a moment and withdrew the foot he had extended over the threshold.

The secret guards lowered their bows and arrows.

Zhan Yueqing thought about it, then extended a foot again.

The secret guards instantly became vigilant, raising their bows—better to kill by mistake than to let a threat pass!

“Forget it,” Zhan Yueqing muttered. He turned around, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and looked at the deep night outside, murmuring, “I’ll just wait for Zhou Jiu.”

He knew he shouldn’t have run so fast.

These damn legs, why did they have to run so quickly!

And that Zhou Jiu, how could he not even catch up? What kind of secret guard had such poor physical fitness?

Zhan Yueqing snorted.

The cold wind was piercing, and Zhan Yueqing felt a bit chilled. Counting the time and seeing that Zhou Jiu still hadn’t arrived, his brow couldn’t help but furrow. Suddenly, a eunuch emerged from the room—

“Young Master…”

It was Zhou Fu, whom Zhan Yueqing had seen yesterday.

Zhou Fu’s legs were shaking violently, and his face was pale as if he had seen something he shouldn’t have.

Zhan Yueqing was stunned. “What happened to you?”

Zhou Fu knelt on the ground. “His Majesty… His Majesty…”

Zhan Yueqing paused, grabbing his arm. “What happened to His Majesty?!”

Zhou Fu fainted.

Zhan Yueqing’s expression changed drastically. Thinking something had happened to Tan Huairan, he rushed inside without hesitation.

Haiyan Palace was much more magnificent than Jinxiu Palace, with carved beams and painted rafters. The room had a heavy scent of wood, but beneath that woodiness, there was an unmistakable, unmaskable scent of blood.

“Ah—”

A scream suddenly erupted from the hall.

The sound was incredibly shrill. Zhan Yueqing jumped in fright, pushed aside the beaded curtain, and was stunned as his pupils shrank at the scene before him—

The hall could be described as a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

Prisoners with brands tattooed on their faces were tied up, trembling and weeping.

In the center of the hall was a long table. A person dressed in white prisoner robes was tied to it, blood flowing out in streams.

Before the table.

Tan Huairan was dressed in black and gold formal attire, his clothes perfectly neat, but his expression was like that of an evil ghost. The corners of his mouth were covered in blood, and droplets of blood stained the corners of his eyes.

That calloused hand gripped a silver knife.

Puchi.

The blade entered the body, and the prisoner screamed in agony.

A slice of blood-red flesh fell onto a plate.

Zhan Yueqing’s face turned deathly pale, and he stumbled back a step. The sole of his shoe rubbed against the floor, making a slight noise.

Tan Huairan looked toward the sound and suddenly paused, as if he hadn’t expected him to appear.

Eyes like a serpent’s—terrifying—met eyes that were startled and crimson.

Like a wolf king tearing at its prey, staring at a weak cat.

“No manners. Kneel.”

Tan Huairan’s brow was covered in frost. He glanced at him lightly, his voice very soft, yet it fell on Zhan Yueqing’s ears like a thunderclap.

Zhan Yueqing was already terrified by the bloody scene; hearing this, his heart shook even more. His knees went soft, and he knelt down.

The floor was covered in dark red blood, so much that it soaked through his robes.

No, this wasn’t his Tan Huai. His Tan Huai would never scare him, no matter what he did.

This was the man-eating tyrant of this dynasty.

But… if he wasn’t Tan Huai, what was with everything that happened today and yesterday?

Zhan Yueqing’s lips trembled. Enduring the nausea, he looked up at Tan Huairan.

“Ma… Majesty…”

Tan Huairan’s gaze shifted, sweeping over his face.

Feeling his gaze, Zhan Yueqing stiffened and instinctively took a step back—

This dodging movement seemed to provoke the tyrant before him. Zhan Yueqing’s vision went dark as a thick scent of blood rushed toward him.

He lifted his foot to run, but Tan Huairan grabbed his waist and pulled him into his embrace.

“Do you want to eat too?” Tan Huairan asked with a smile. Though his movements were refined, the blood on his face was terrifying.

The smell of blood mixed with the scent of wood hit him. Zhan Yueqing shook his head frantically, his eyes turning red.

He felt so disgusted he wanted to vomit.

He wasn’t afraid of blood; he just couldn’t believe that Tan Huairan wasn’t Tan Huai.

If he was, how could he have become like this?

No matter which way he looked at it, Zhan Yueqing felt deeply saddened.

“Tan… Tan Huai…” He reached out and wiped the blood from the corner of Tan Huairan’s mouth. His body trembled violently in Tan Huairan’s arms, and his voice shook with fear as he whispered, “…Is it you?”

Tan Huairan’s eyes shook. He looked at Zhan Yueqing, his breath like a beast king hunting.

“Next time you see this, run away. Don’t come in.”

Zhan Yueqing was stunned.

What did that mean?

[Warning: Frenzy Value 86.]

Tan Huairan suddenly stood up, pushed Zhan Yueqing away, and said indifferently: “Get out!”

Zhan Yueqing’s lips moved, his eyes dazed, clutching at his robes.

Clearly, he didn’t want to leave.

Tan Huairan paused, raised his hand, and let his calloused fingertips brush across Zhan Yueqing’s face. His expression was as cold as frost and snow as he murmured, “If you don’t leave now, do you want to be chopped into pieces?”

Zhan Yueqing’s pupils shrank in disbelief.

Tan Huairan’s face was indifferent as he licked the scent Zhan Yueqing had just left on his lips.

He raised his hand, grabbed the dead prisoner on the table, and gripped the man’s soft neck—

Crack.

He actually snapped it with his bare hands.

[Fear +5, Frenzy Value 91]

[Fear +2, Frenzy Value 93]

[Frenzy Value 98]

Zhan Yueqing’s knees were still weak. His nostrils were filled with the smell of blood, and his body seemed covered in it. When he went out, he was practically crawling.

Zhou Jiu had been held up by palace attendants just now. As soon as he entered the hall, he saw Zhan Yueqing running toward him in a panic, covered in a bloody aura, looking as if he were paralyzed with fright.

He signaled the secret guards on the eaves to lower their bows, as this person was harmless, and at the same time pulled Zhan Yueqing to a stop. “Second Young Master? What’s wrong with you?”

Zhan Yueqing buried his face in Zhou Jiu’s chest, his stomach churning. He suppressed the urge to vomit. “No… nothing. Go… go back to Jinxiu Palace…”

Zhou Jiu was stunned. “Why? It’s almost the Hour of the Ox (1:00 AM)!”

“I want to throw up.” Zhan Yueqing’s face was numb as he murmured, “I want to go back and rest.”

The little seedling in his heart had withered.

Tan Huai wouldn’t say those kinds of things to him.

Zhan Yueqing’s face was pale, like a pear blossom about to fall from a branch, possessing a delicate beauty, with tears still on his cheeks.

Zhou Jiu almost stared blankly, but realizing he shouldn’t do that, he signaled the secret guards on the roof with his eyes: What happened inside?!

the secret guard on the eaves made a hand signal.

His Majesty’s madness has flared up; he is “eating” a prisoner!

Zhou Jiu suddenly understood and hurried to explain to Zhan Yueqing: “His Majesty—”

But Zhan Yueqing only gave a distant look toward Haiyan Palace and then ran out as if some flood or fierce beast were chasing him.

Half an hour later, the bell for the Hour of the Ox rang.

In Haiyan Palace, the bloodstains everywhere had been cleaned up by the secret guards. Tan Huairan had changed into a clean, moon-white robe, looking completely refreshed.

“Your Majesty, it is time to go to the Inner Cabinet,” a servant said softly. “Lord Su has invited you to discuss the snow disaster and requests that you go to Benevolence Temple in a few days to pray for blessings.”

Tan Huairan did not speak.

The Hour of the Ox had arrived, and 001 had finally gone offline, but an inescapable sense of irritability remained in his heart.

There was also some of the pain that had appeared that night when he held Zhan Yueqing—Tan Huairan narrowed his eyes, thinking of Zhan Yueqing’s abnormal, purple-red blood.

Tonight was the night of the full moon.

The system’s Frenzy Value had risen to 98 because of his act of “eating” someone just now; he would not be controlled by the system for the time being.

Tan Huairan looked down at the pile of political scrolls on the table, appearing somewhat lost in thought.

The Kingdom of Ning was blessed with good weather, and the commoners’ harvest this year was excellent.

The ninth year of Xuanning was a year of abundance.

If he were controlled by the system, everything would turn to ashes.

“Your Majesty?” the servant reminded him again.

Tan Huairan snapped back to reality. “Ningde, go and call Zhou Jiu to me.”

Jinxiu Palace went dark at the end of the Hour of the Ox.

Zhan Yueqing had changed into clean inner garments, his long hair spread across the couch. He sat blankly holding a hand warmer, curled up on the wide bed like an insecure cat, trying to make himself as small as possible.

A damp trace stained the pillow.

997: What’s wrong with you?

Zhan Yueqing tightened the quilt around him and didn’t answer, just keeping his eyes lowered.

997: It seems you didn’t eat dinner.

Zhan Yueqing’s pupils shrank suddenly. He abruptly rolled over, crawled to the edge of the couch, and began to dry heave.

997: If I didn’t know the setting, I would have thought you were a ‘Ger’ experiencing morning sickness.

The overwhelming color of blood flashed before his eyes. Zhan Yueqing remembered the scene of Tan Huairan slicing flesh again, feeling more and more miserable, to the point where his eyes were filled with a watery mist.

I didn’t clearly see him eat it, and I don’t know if he actually did or not. Why am I feeling so bad?

Zhan Yueqing thought in a daze.

Is it because it was sliced off a living person?

The youth’s figure was thin, his face deathly pale, his eyes red. His black hair draped over his shoulders, and his dark lashes hung down. He looked tearful and pathetic, like a rare painting of a beauty.

997 looked at him and suddenly remembered him running toward Haiyan Palace in the snow. It asked: Do you know the tyrant?

Zhan Yueqing was stunned. Was I that obvious?

Coming back to his senses, Zhan Yueqing weighed the pros and cons; he couldn’t let the system know about this. He shook his head, his pale, bloodless lips moving as he said slowly, “I don’t know him. I just didn’t expect him to ‘eat people,’ I was just a bit frightened.”

This explanation was reasonable enough. 997 didn’t dwell on it further but instead lowered its voice to coax him: [Don’t think about it anymore, get some rest. Tomorrow you have to go to the Imperial Academy. The tyrant gave you the identity of the Grand Preceptor’s son; this is beneficial for accumulating trust points. You must complete the task well.]

Zhan Yueqing closed his eyes, raised his hand to wipe away the physiological tears caused by his discomfort, and crawled back into the quilt.

“Mhm.”

997: “…”

Damn.

Damn it!

Zhan Yueqing’s naturally “soft” temperament really made it want to give him points for no reason.

Forget it, I’ll send 52. It’s just a little bit anyway; it can’t do much.

The night grew deeper, the snow outside was still falling, and the wind was howling.

A dark shadow pushed open the window of Jinxiu Palace and climbed in with practiced ease.

The candles in the hall were out. The calming incense in the burner was still smoldering, occasionally making a slight burning sound.

Zhan Yueqing liked such white noise. After putting his worries aside, he soon fell into a deep sleep.

He had a dream. In the dream, someone was messing with his neck, making him half-awake, but he was so exhausted he couldn’t open his eyes. He could only turn over and wrap himself in the quilt like a little snail, tucking himself away.

The shadow in the darkness paused.

Zhan Yueqing felt his “shell” being lifted. It was a bit cold, and the sense of restraint on his neck became heavier.

For some reason, Zhan Yueqing dizzily remembered the feeling of being choked by Tan Huairan that day. He instinctively raised his hand to strike again—

But there was only the rustling sound of fabric.

A faint scent of medicine wafted around the bed.

“Are you blaming me for killing your foster father…”

Zhan Yueqing murmured as if in his sleep.

The shadow in the darkness froze again.

“But, your foster father wasn’t good to you…”

Zhan Yueqing spoke in his sleep with his eyes closed. As soon as these words came out, his “shell” was covered back over him.

The incense in the burner continued to burn.

The next day, as the sky began to brighten, Zhan Yueqing woke up very early but didn’t get up.

He stared at the bed curtains, dazed for a moment before slowly reacting—oh, he had traveled through time, and today he was going to the Imperial Academy.

Last night he had been too scared by Tan Huairan to think clearly.

Looking back now, he vaguely felt that was indeed Tan Huai.

Only Tan Huai knew which words would keep him away and which actions he disliked.