The Cannon Fodder Awakens, Training the Cold and Proud Protagonist into a Submissive Dog - Chapter 2

Arriving alongside Xiao Huaiyan was Wuhuo, the head eunuch of the Imperial Household Department, who accompanied him with an apologetic smile while wearing an extremely unsightly expression.

He was responsible for keeping watch over Xiao Huaiyan—serving him on the surface, but monitoring him in reality. Since an incident had occurred with Xiao Huaiyan right under his nose, he could hardly shirk responsibility.

Shen Chaoqing lowered his gaze to look at the young man.

Xiao Huaiyan was covered in injuries, with a vast number of whip scars, likely having just been beaten and scolded by the person in charge. Even so, his spine did not bend in the slightest.

Shen Chaoqing narrowed his eyes. “The Qilin child of Liao.”

Everyone hated the tyrant, and people wishing to kill Shen Chaoqing were as numerous as the hairs on an ox, yet the original text had never mentioned anyone from Liao being caught coming to rescue Xiao Huaiyan.

These assassins disguised as actors were not people from Liao; they belonged to the Empress Dowager.

However, Xiao Huaiyan was simply out of luck. Because of that dream of uncertain truth, Shen Chaoqing was in a thoroughly foul mood and currently worrying about finding no opportunity to vent his grievances upon him. A ready-made excuse had fallen right into his hands, so naturally, he had no intention of letting him off lightly.

“Why aren’t you kneeling before His Majesty!” Wuhuo kicked the back of Xiao Huaiyan’s knee.

Xiao Huaiyan’s body trembled, but he did not move.

Wuhuo’s expression stiffened. Giving Shen Chaoqing a terrified look, he immediately increased his force, using all his strength to kick him two or three more times.

Every single blow landed on his wounds. Lacking the strength to support himself, Xiao Huaiyan dropped to his knees.

Witnessing it all, Shen Chaoqing looked on with cold detachment.

The heavy dark iron chains weighed down oppressively upon Xiao Huaiyan’s ridge of protruding bones, nearly pressing him straight into the ground.

His tattered coarse hemp garments were soaked through with melted snow and blood stains, clinging tightly to the lacerated whip welts. The air was filled with a rust-like scent of blood, mixing with the lingering incense of the warm hall to create a sickeningly sweet stench.

Shen Chaoqing’s gaze landed upon Xiao Huaiyan’s tightly clenched fists, his knuckles turned white from the exertion.

Those hands were covered in frostbites and cracks, his wrists worn raw and bloody by the rough, heavy dark iron shackles. Yet, even so, those tightly clenched fists still radiated an unyielding stubbornness that refused to break.

These were the very same hands that would one day sever his four limbs.

“How pitiful.”

Shen Chaoqing slowly raised his foot and, without a shred of mercy, heavily ground it down onto Xiao Huaiyan’s tightly clenched fist.

“Ngh!”

The faint sound of fracturing bones was masked by the suppressed groan of pain squeezed out from deep within Xiao Huaiyan’s throat.

That heavily battered palm deformed instantly under the immense pressure, the flesh grinding viciously against the rough texture of the boot sole. Fresh blood immediately welled up from the split wounds and fingernail beds, staining the sole of Shen Chaoqing’s shoe and the expensive gold-woven carpet beneath Xiao Huaiyan.

Apply a bit more pressure, and that hand would be completely crippled.

The veins at Xiao Huaiyan’s temples bulged, and cold sweat instantly soaked through his thin garments.

Yet, aside from that single muffled groan, he emitted no further sound. His teeth were clenched so tightly that he bit clean through his lower lip.

Everyone present held their breath, terrified that speaking an extra word would bring disaster upon themselves. They could only cast furtive glances at Xiao Huaiyan and silently light an incense stick for him in their hearts.

Shen Chaoqing looked down at him from above, the force beneath his sole not only failing to lighten, but rather increasing by a few fractions as he leisurely and repeatedly ground it back and forth across the back of the hand.

“Do you recognize the people outside the hall?”

Xiao Huaiyan’s Adam’s apple rolled violently as he swallowed down the churning taste of blood. “I don’t recognize them.”

“You don’t recognize them?” Shen Chaoqing gave a light chuckle.

He finally withdrew his foot. Xiao Huaiyan’s forced-open hand trembled, bruised purple and looking like freshly chopped raw meat, too gruesome to bear looking upon.

Shen Chaoqing hooked up Xiao Huaiyan’s chin with the tip of his shoe. “Think carefully again. Weren’t they secret guards from Liao, coming to rescue you? Xiao Huaiyan.”

That name struck like a sudden clap of thunder, fiercely cleaving into Xiao Huaiyan’s already numb heart.

How long had it been… since anyone had called him by that name? In this sunless prison of Jin, he had long been stripped of his personal name and reduced to the most lowly “mongrel” and “Liao dog.” That name, along with his former identity and pride, had been ruthlessly trampled into the mud.

Spoken from Shen Chaoqing’s lips, the name carried endless malice and mockery, burning like a red-hot branding iron deep into his already scarred soul.

Xiao Huaiyan’s pupils suddenly contracted as the chains clanked, locking him firmly in place. The towering waves churning in the depths of his eyes were ultimately forcefully suppressed, leaving only a deeper shade of pitch-black ink and bone-deep iciness.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his gaze had miraculously reverted to a dead-water-like calm. Word by word, he stated: “I do not recognize them.”

“Is that so?” Shen Chaoqing withdrew his leg and smiled slightly. “I believe you.”

Shen Chaoqing’s gaze swept indifferently past the trembling Wuhuo nearby, finally landing upon the exquisitely crafted leather whip hanging at his waist. The corners of his lips curved into an ambiguous arc as he beckoned to Wuhuo.

Wuhuo shuddered all over, practically crawling and scrambling his way to Shen Chaoqing’s feet, squeezing out a fawning smile that looked uglier than crying: “Your Majesty…”

Without looking at him, Shen Chaoqing reached out and unfastened the whip from his waist in a leisurely manner.

The whip handle felt warm and smooth to the touch, crafted from fine sandalwood. Turning it over, he saw a delicate phoenix holding a ganoderma-grass insignia clearly branded into the pommel.

The mark of the Changle Palace.

Just as expected: this head eunuch, who fawned and served diligently by his side day in and day out, was a nail planted by the Empress Dowager, who would eventually defect to Xiao Huaiyan when the nation fell and offer up his imperial jade seal with both hands.

Shen Chaoqing weighed the whip in his hand, smiling amiably as he looked at the cold-sweat-drenched Wuhuo, his tone as casual as if making small talk: “Have my esteemed ‘guest’ here been well-behaved these past few days?”

Wuhuo had lurked by Shen Chaoqing’s side for a long time, biding his time. If he could have Shen Chaoqing directly beat Xiao Huaiyan to death, disrupting the alliance between the two countries, the Empress Dowager could sit back and reap the spoils while regaining control of Jin.

Seeing the emperor inclined to act, how could he let slip this opportunity? Shedding his fear instantly, he shrieked in a high-pitched voice: “Replying to Your Majesty, Your Majesty is wise! This Liao slave’s behavior is suspicious, and he has even repeatedly spoken foul language and physically assaulted the serving palace attendants! This servant… this servant really failed in his discipline, begging Your Majesty for forgiveness!” As he spoke, he kowtowed repeatedly, dumping a host of groundless crimes squarely onto Xiao Huaiyan.

Nearby, Eunuch Fu looked at Xiao Huaiyan’s miserable state where he was practically left with only a breath of life remaining, and then listened to Wuhuo’s sheer distortion of the truth. Frowning deeply, he opened his mouth intending to say something: “Your Majesty, this old servant believes…”

Crack!

Before the words could finish, a sharp, piercing sound of air being split rang out abruptly.

Without any warning, Shen Chaoqing raised his hand and lashed a vicious whip strike across Xiao Huaiyan’s already blood-soaked back.

The force was so great that Xiao Huaiyan’s entire body convulsed violently, causing his chains to clank loudly, but he gritted his teeth hard, swallowing the groan of pain rising to his throat back down. Only heavy, suppressed gasps remained particularly clear within the deathly quiet hall.

“Did you remember anything?” Shen Chaoqing’s voice still carried a smile.

Xiao Huaiyan lowered his head, disheveled hair obscuring his expression as a suppressed voice squeezed through his teeth: “…No.”

“Very well.” Shen Chaoqing nodded, raising his wrist once more.

The whip struck like a poisonous snake, landing with precision, blow after blow, upon Xiao Huaiyan’s battered body.

Flesh tore open and blood splattered everywhere; a few warm, viscous droplets even splashed onto Shen Chaoqing’s imperial robe and hem. Yet, he paid them no mind, as if he were merely flogging a lifeless object.

Only when Xiao Huaiyan’s breath grew faint, leaving him with barely a thread of life remaining, did Shen Chaoqing finally halt his movements, breathing slightly.

He tossed the blood-stained whip onto the ground, leaned down once more, and spoke in a terrifyingly gentle tone: “Now then? Did you remember anything?”