The Cannon Fodder Awakens, Training the Cold and Proud Protagonist into a Submissive Dog - Chapter 1

Shen Chaoqing realized he was a cannon fodder villain in a Dragon-Abiding Heavenly novel while he was dreaming.

Deep within the Jin imperial palace, inside the Huaqing Palace, warm fragrance drifted in the air as flutes and stringed instruments played soft, decadent melodies.

A performance of The Peony Pavilion was currently staging the “Frightened Dream” act. The stage had been temporarily constructed, yet it was the epitome of luxury.

The surface of the stage was covered with a thick layer of plush carpet, and half-person-high gilt-gold immortal crane censers stood at all four corners, emitting curling wisps of blue smoke. The glazed palace lanterns suspended from the ceiling reflected the candlelight, making the performers’ exquisite theatrical costumes shimmer with brilliant, colorful light, resembling a fairyland.

The protagonist, “Du Liniang,” possessed a graceful and slender figure with fluttering water sleeves. Her singing voice was soft, lingering, and full of sorrow, sounding like weeping and complaining all at once. The “Floral Goddesses” accompanying her dance behind her were draped in light gauze, moving with lotus steps as their jade pendants chimed, looking just like true immortals descending to the mortal realm.

Yet, the master of this fairyland was leaning lazily against a sandalwood couch covered in snow-white fox fur, closing his eyes for a brief nap.

Shen Chaoqing was dressed in a cyan casual robe embroidered with dark golden dragon patterns, revealing his gracefully curved collarbones and pale white neck.

He was exceptionally handsome, with brows and eyes like a painting, a high nose bridge, and lips the pale pink of someone who rarely saw sunlight. Combined together, his non-aggressive facial features formed a portrait of a breathtakingly beautiful scholar-beauty that could captivate all beings. His demeanor was truly as gentle and warm as a spring breeze, with a bone-deep purity as clear as autumn water.

“Your Majesty, please partake.”

The young eunuch beside him trembled with fear as he placed a dish of roasted mutton onto Shen Chaoqing’s plate.

Shen Chaoqing slowly lifted his eyes. Within them lay thick, dense malevolence that could not be melted away, with a faint trace of irritation and coldness hidden beneath. A murderous aura surged over him instantly, causing anyone to forget his pretty face and making their hair stand on end.

The young eunuch shook like chaff in the wind, not daring to speak another word for fear that uttering a single extra syllable would lead to him being dragged away and executed.

Just moments prior, Shen Chaoqing had experienced a dream also set within this very grand hall.

Someone clad in mysterious black armor had their face covered, with only a pair of falcon-like eyes piercing through the wind and snow.

“Shen Chaoqing,” that person said, pointing a drawn sword straight at Shen Chaoqing’s glabella, “this sword repays the humiliation of being a hostage back then.”

A heart-rending, agonizing pain shot through his shoulder as countless distorted images flooded into his mind. Bound by iron chains on the altar of Liao, all four of his limbs were severed, turning him into a human torso.

Excruciating pain tore through his nerves, causing Shen Chaoqing to grip the wine vessel tightly until the pads of his fingers turned white.

“Your Majesty, how do you find this newly choreographed The Peony Pavilion?” Fu An asked with a bowed waist and a smile, breaking the tension and rescuing the young eunuch.

The young eunuch felt as though he had received a grand pardon and hurried away.

Shen Chaoqing glanced at him. “The staging is acceptable. Reward them.”

A script? A villain? Cannon fodder? How absurd.

He had forgotten seven or eight tenths of the specific plot details of this story, but he remembered his own miserable ending all too clearly.

There was a genre in original web novels known as Dragon-Abiding Heavenly. The male protagonist, Xiao Huaiyan, came from a noble lineage: his mother was the most favored little princess of the Northern Frontier, and his father was the Emperor of Liao. Since childhood, he had been showered with affection and groomed as the heir. Who could have predicted that heaven has unpredictable winds and clouds? Liao suffered defeat in a war against Jin, facing the crisis of national annihilation. The Emperor of Jin specifically named Xiao Huaiyan the sole imperial prince—to be sent to Jin as a political hostage.

Even though the Emperor of Liao was unwilling, he had no other choice and had to bear the heartache of sending Xiao Huaiyan to Jin. Falling instantly from the clouds into the mud, Xiao Huaiyan endured endless cold treatment and humiliation, lacking enough food to eat and proper clothes to wear. His unyielding spine was completely broken, and he received a round of whippings for good measure. Harboring a bone-deep hatred for the Emperor of Jin, he bided his time until he finally escaped back to Liao.

And thus, the main story began. Xiao Huaiyan eliminated political rivals, seized the imperial throne, conquered obstacles all the way to stabilize the court, and ultimately invaded Jin. He turned the Emperor of Jin into a human torso and tortured him to death. From then on, with beautiful wives and concubines by his side, he lived a life of absolute triumph, uniting the world under heaven and eventually becoming a legendary overlord.

What a stirring and magnificent tale! If only that Jin emperor turned into a human torso were not himself, Shen Chaoqing would genuinely have wanted to applaud the author.

Fu An hurriedly acknowledged the command: “Understood, this servant will issue the orders right away.”

He waved his hand, and immediately several young eunuchs stepped forward carrying trays filled with gold melon-shaped ingots and jade ruyi scepters, preparing to distribute the rewards.

At that exact moment, a sudden change occurred.

On the stage, the actor portraying “Du Liniang” sang the line, “Such flowers and grasses left for anyone to cherish, life and death following anyone’s wish,” and suddenly whipped out her water sleeves.

A flash of cold light shot out from within the sleeve, heading straight for the throat of Shen Chaoqing on the couch.

The hall plunged into instant silence; the music cut off abruptly, and all the palace attendants were frightened out of their wits, their screams stuck in their throats.

Yet, Shen Chaoqing did not move a single inch.

“Protect the Emperor!”

Almost simultaneously with the assassin’s strike, several dark figures lunged out from the shadows of the hall like ghosts. They were the shadow guards kept by Shen Chaoqing—every single one of them possessed exceptional martial arts skills and rigorous training.

Moving with incredible speed after the fact, they precisely pinned the wrist of the “Du Liniang” holding the sword. At the same time, several other accompanying dancers acting as the “Floral Goddesses” were instantly forced to the ground.

“Du Liniang” was pressed ruthlessly against the plush carpet, her face flat against the floor, her eyes burning with bone-deep hatred and resentment. The remaining assassins were likewise unable to move, their eyes blazing with that same fiery rage.

Shen Chaoqing slowly straightened his posture. He stood up, his robes slipping down like flowing water to outline his slender yet upright figure.

Step by step, he walked down the jade steps toward the pinned assassins. Walking upon the soft, expensive carpet without a sound, he carried a breathtaking, suffocating pressure.

He stopped in front of “Du Liniang,” looking down at her from above.

“Who sent you?” Shen Chaoqing’s voice was very soft, carrying a hint of playful amusement, as if he were inquiring about some trivial matter.

“Tyrant! Everyone has the right to execute you!” the female assassin cursed with all her might, spittle mixed with blood spraying outward.

Shen Chaoqing smiled and extended his hand. “Sword.”

A shadow guard immediately and respectfully offered the long sword hanging from his waist with both hands.

Shen Chaoqing gripped the hilt. It was a refined steel long sword, slightly heavy in the hand, with cold light shimmering along the blade. He weighed it in his hand, his gaze falling upon the female assassin’s chest, which heaved violently with fury.

“You have admirable courage,” he said, his tone carrying a trace of approval.

Then, amidst the horrified gazes of everyone present, his wrist flicked, and the tip of the sword pierced with absolute precision directly into the female assassin’s heart!

Pfft!

The dull, clear sound of a blade entering flesh echoed out. Boiling hot blood gushed forth like a fountain, instantly staining the carpet beneath her and splashing onto Shen Chaoqing’s cheek and collar of his robe.

A few warm droplets of blood happened to land upon his pale cheek and light-colored lips, resembling red plum blossoms blooming in the snow, dazzling and soul-stirring to an eerie degree.

He did not pause for even a moment, nor did he wipe away the blood on his face. Holding the dripping long sword, he walked toward the next pinned assassin.

Watching his companion instantly perish, and seeing the eerie trace of blood and the cold gaze upon Shen Chaoqing’s face, the young male actor finally broke down. Weeping and sniffling uncontrollably, he kowtowed and begged for mercy: “Spare my life, Your Majesty! Spare my life, Your Majesty! This humble one… this humble one was forced! Begging Your Majesty for mercy!”

Shen Chaoqing did not halt his steps; with a flash of sword light, another head rolled onto the floor, and the pleas for mercy cut off abruptly.

He strolled as if taking a leisurely walk, moving toward the third, the fourth… Every single pinned assassin—regardless of gender, whether they cursed, begged for mercy, or remained silent—was met with nothing more than that single flash of sword light.

A drop of blood splashed onto Shen Chaoqing’s glabella, looking like Guanyin lowering her head or a resentful ghost marking its dot.

Eunuch Fu fell to his knees in terror: “Please calm your wrath, Your Majesty! It was this servant’s failure in oversight that let the assassins mix in…”

The guard inspecting the assassins spoke up: “Your Majesty, these markings look rather similar to the wolf crests of Liao.”

The wolf crest of Liao and presently within the palace, wasn’t there precisely such a person from Liao? All the civil and military officials held their breath, quietly observing the young emperor’s expression.

Shen Chaoqing casually slid his sword back into the guard’s scabbard. “Where is our esteemed Prince of Liao?”

Oddly enough, this exact sequence of events had also occurred in his dream just moments earlier.

Eunuch Fu took a couple of seconds to process who was being referred to before replying respectfully: “In the miscellaneous chores quarters. This servant will have someone bring him here immediately.”

Not long after, the main doors of the hall swung open with a resounding crash.

The howling northern wind swept in snow flurries, extinguishing half of the candles. Pale white daylight leaked inside, illuminating the solidified lotus pool of blood upon the carpet.

At the front was the commander of the imperial guards, dragging along a heavy dark iron chain. “The mongrel from Liao has been brought under guard!”

The iron chains clanked loudly as a figure was shoved forward into the grand hall.

Shen Chaoqing narrowed his eyes.

It was a young man. Heavy black iron shackles locked around his wrist bones, and tattered single-layer garments failed to conceal the crisscrossing whip scars. New scabs overlapped old scars, and some wounds were still oozing beads of blood.

Though disheveled and wretched, a pair of ghostly green eyes burned fiercely like a tiger or wolf, filled with vigilance and a chilling coldness. His entire presence carried the aura of an Asura stepping straight out of hell, making one’s hair stand on end.