Transmigrated as the Emperor, but Slacking Off - Chapter 11

Wen Xing felt a massive force shove him away, causing him to stagger back several steps.

Before him, that off-white figure had already sliced through the thick curtain of night like a bolt of lightning, engaging in a fierce struggle with over a dozen men in black.

Although Ning Wujie’s movements were as swift as the wind and his blade-light was chilling, the enemies were too numerous; they eventually found an opening amidst his rapid maneuvers.

Failing to dodge a side-swipe in time, a biting blade edge reached him.

Squelch!

The sharp sound of tearing fabric was accompanied by the sound of flesh splitting open. A bloody gash was carved across Ning Wujie’s arm.

Despite the injury, he remained completely unfazed. His speed and blade-wind did not falter; men in black were struck down one after another, either collapsing or retreating in a panic. The pale figure moved like a silk ribbon through the heavy shadows, leaving a mist of blood wherever he passed.

By the moonlight, Wen Xing saw Ning Wujie’s sleeve stained red with blood. He clenched his own sleeves tightly.

This stubborn brat, playing the hero again! Just you wait, when we get back, I’ll definitely charge him with defying an imperial decree.

Wen Xing lifted his arm and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a golden sleeve-arrow cylinder strapped to his wrist. Xinghe insisted he wear it every time he went out incognito, saying it could save his life in a moment of crisis.

He had never used it before.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down, and tried to recall the feeling of practicing on moving targets at the shooting range in his previous life.

Weight? Should be similar to a P238. Recoil? Negligible. Sights? Unknown.

Wen Xing opened his eyes again, watching the men in black gradually forming a circle around Ning Wujie. He steeled his nerves.

I’ll go with my gut. Kid, you’d better thank me for having at least one useful hobby in my past life.

The ringing of clashing steel was endless. In the heat of battle, Ning Wujie caught sight of Wen Xing still standing under the tree and furrowed his brow. “Your Majesty! Go!”

Before his voice finished, a man in black seized the opportunity of Ning Wujie’s distraction and leapt from a blind spot behind him. His long blade drew a silver arc in the air, slashing down toward Ning Wujie’s neck.

Ning Wujie was about to parry when he heard a sharp whistle cutting through the air.

The arrow pierced flesh with a dull thud, and the man in black fell straight from mid-air.

Clang!

The shadow hit the ground along with his blade, revealing a single golden arrow-tip embedded in the center of his forehead.

Ning Wujie was slightly stunned. He turned his head and saw Wen Xing raising his arm, aiming in his direction.

Sleeve-arrows?

The thought had barely flashed through his mind when several more men in black closed in from all sides. Ning Wujie didn’t dare distract himself again. He kicked off the ground, vaulting backward while delivering a backstab that pierced an enemy’s chest. Amidst the spray of blood, two more arrows whistled through the air, grazing past his ears.

Thump, Thump!

Two more heavy sounds of bodies hitting the dirt.

Ning Wujie was shocked to see that every fallen assassin had been struck in the head, a one-hit kill. The golden arrows were as fast as light, and they were precise and ruthless. The number of shadows surrounding him was dwindling at a visible rate.

Finally, one of the shadows noticed the bizarre reversal of the situation and decisively turned to attack Wen Xing.

Ning Wujie, having just struck down an enemy, flipped over to give chase, trying to intercept the shadow. But the man was incredibly fast; using lightfoot skills, he reached Wen Xing in just a few strides. The blade-light flared, nearly piercing Wen Xing.

Ning Wujie’s pupils shrank, and his heart nearly stopped. “Your Majesty!”

Yet, the moment the blade was about to fall, there was another strange sound of metal piercing flesh. The man in black fell straight to the ground, revealing Wen Xing’s calm and cold face behind him.

Ning Wujie’s movements stopped.

That lean body stood beneath the tree, his azure brocade robe stained with moonlight, making Wen Xing look as if he were draped in a celestial glow. He stared at the “precious” Emperor, whose body was impossibly thin, yet who now looked like a transcendent immortal holding the power of life and death.

Seeing Ning Wujie dazing out before the danger was fully cleared, Wen Xing frowned, about to scold him. However, behind Ning Wujie, amidst the pile of corpses, a figure staggered up and braced a blade against the ground, one hand already gripping a throwing knife.

Wen Xing instinctively raised his arm, his finger on the trigger mechanism.

Yet, without even turning his head, Ning Wujie stepped on a fallen hilt and kicked it precisely backward. With a dull thud, the blade buried itself in bone, and the final gasp of life vanished completely.

Ning Wujie still didn’t move, but the “immortal” under the tree approached him.

Wen Xing didn’t say a word, looking unpleasantly at Ning Wujie’s wounded arm. The gash wasn’t deep, but it was bloody and looked gruesome. He secretly let out a breath of relief, then locked his brow. “Did I not tell you that you are not allowed to die?”

Tonight, several times over, Emperor Wu of Zhou nearly perished. If history took such a massive detour in his hands, he had no idea what the consequences would be maybe the nation would vanish, and he would vanish with it. This wasn’t some novel where the protagonist had an “invincibility” law.

If an accident happened, who was he supposed to hand the throne over to in three years? The mere thought made him furious.

Seeing that Ning Wujie didn’t reply, he said in a deep voice, “You have repeatedly defied imperial decrees. What, do you think I can’t do anything to you?”

“But I did not die,” Ning Wujie replied. His voice was calm and surprisingly confident.

Wen Xing found it unbelievable. Very well, he actually dares to talk back now.

What do you call this? Being spoiled and arrogant?

Hah.

“I don’t want you to die, but I also hate disobedient ministers. If you defy me again, I’ll send you back to the Northwest and have your elder brother come replace you.”

At those words, he saw Ning Wujie’s face freeze.

Unexpectedly, he didn’t see the same rage that had made the boy want to kill him last time. Instead, Ning Wujie’s expression turned dark, so dark it could drip. His gaze was as cold as tempered ice, making one’s spine feel chilled. He must have been beyond furious.

But Wen Xing wasn’t in the mood to tease anyone today. He meant what he said; if this stubborn brat wouldn’t listen, he might as well go back to the Northwest. Perhaps if nature took its course, this person would actually live long enough to rebel and take the throne.

I really want to retire on time, okay!

He saw Ning Wujie’s eyes turning red, as if stained by fire, the color spreading to the corners of his eyes. The youth gritted his teeth, enduring for a long time before saying: “I obey your decree.”

Wen Xing didn’t dwell on it. He walked to the pile of corpses and leaned down to unmask one of them. “I wonder whose people these are.”

Ning Wujie kept his back to him, closing his eyes tightly to suppress the wildfire of rage in his heart. But this time, there was no humiliation only pure anger. He didn’t have the heart to think about why; he just forced the strange feeling to the back of his mind.

There are more important things to do; don’t let emotions govern your mind, he thought.

He turned and walked to Wen Xing’s side, flicking his blade to tear the assassin’s sleeve, revealing a black tattoo: a pattern combining a long blade and a crescent moon. Seeing the mark, he shook his head. “We won’t be able to trace it.”

“These are people from the Half-Moon Pavilion. They kill for money and never betray their employers.” He gave a cold laugh. “Sending this many assassins their employer certainly spent a fortune.”

Wen Xing nodded. After all, he was the Emperor; he was worth the price. He just couldn’t figure out who wanted him dead. The original Emperor described in the system cards had never suffered an assassination attempt. Moreover, since the Empress Dowager’s family was so powerful, the original Emperor’s path to the throne had been incredibly smooth; all competitors had been cleared out long ago.

He couldn’t understand it for the moment, so he stopped thinking about it.

After the long night’s struggle, he was exhausted. This body’s energy was depleted, and he was currently relying solely on willpower to stay upright. If he didn’t find a place to lie down, he suspected he would faint immediately.

He was looking around for a way out when the previously clear sky began to drizzle with rain. The moon quietly hid behind the dark clouds. The only light source vanished.

Sensing him taking a step, Ning Wujie grabbed him. “It’s easy to get lost in the woods at night, especially without moonlight. Do not wander.”

“So we just stand here and get soaked?” Wen Xing asked with a dry laugh.

Ning Wujie lit a fire-starter. “Fortunately, the rain is light. The fire-starters of the Ningyuan Army can last for the duration of a cup of tea in the rain. Let’s see if there’s a place to stay nearby.”

The small flame illuminated the path less than three feet ahead. Ning Wujie grabbed Wen Xing’s wrist. “Follow me.”

Wen Xing frowned, feeling something was off. Does this kid dare to act without asking for permission now?

But they were in the middle of nowhere and in a pathetic state; they truly couldn’t afford to worry about such formalities. The fire-starter in Ning Wujie’s hand was his only light, so he had to stay close to the other man, stumbling through the pitch-black depths of the forest.

Luckily, before the flame died out, Ning Wujie found a place to take shelter: an abandoned City God Temple.

“Your Majesty, we.” He turned his head just as Wen Xing, seemingly having exhausted all his strength, swayed and fell toward him.

He caught Wen Xing immediately. It felt as if a feather had drifted into his arms. Ning Wujie furrowed his brow and quickly checked Wen Xing’s pulse. It was steady, and his breathing was even.

Fell asleep from exhaustion? He can fall asleep even while standing?

Ning Wujie was helpless. He leaned down, picked the man up in a bridal carry, and stepped up the stone stairs.

Half a cup of tea later.

A bonfire had been lit in the ruined temple. Ning Wujie had used prayer cushions to make a bed and draped the clothes from a divine statue over it. He was about to lay Wen Xing down when he ran into a problem.

Wen Xing’s clothes were soaked from the rain. He remembered Li Dequan saying the Emperor would get sick just by falling asleep in a draft, what would happen if his clothes were wet?

The face of the person in his arms was covered in rainwater, drops clinging to his pale skin like morning dew on a magnolia petal. His fingertips hovered for a moment before he wiped the water from Wen Xing’s face.

His gaze drifted down to the other’s slightly open collar. Rainwater had slid down the slender neck, gathering in a small pool in the hollow of the collarbone.

His breath hitched, and he quickly looked away. Feeling that strange dizziness again, Ning Wujie frowned.

It’s that Ambergris incense again. This tyrant actually used such despicable means!

Once he returned to the palace, he would have the Inspectorate thoroughly investigate this incense. Little did he know that after the rain, the scent on the clothes had long since been washed away. Currently, Wen Xing only smelled of rainwater.

He closed his eyes, fumbling to untie Wen Xing’s belt. When his fingertips touched the smooth skin, he was nearly burned. His closed eyelashes trembled slightly, like a butterfly’s wings creating ripples on a lake.

He took a deep breath, his ears turning red as he continued to fumble.

He told himself it couldn’t be helped. When the Emperor woke up, he would ask for forgiveness then.