The Villain Slaps The Protagonist’s Halo - Chapter 63

Chapter 63: The Protagonist Must Die

"Daqi had always been Yan Country's foremost formidable enemy. The proximity of the two nations and Daqi's slight abundance over Yan Country had fueled Daqi's longstanding desire to swallow Yan Country. Thanks to Sikong Han's unparalleled military tactics and firm defense of the northwest front, Daqi's armies repeatedly returned defeated, with countless casualties, never gaining an inch under Sikong Han's command.

This war deity defended Yan Country's territories and people, his contributions worthy of historical recognition. Yet, with a single frown from the tyrant, his efforts were disregarded. Disregarding the immense service he rendered to Yan Country, the despot dismissed the will of the people.

With the loss of Sikong, the defending war deity, the northwest forces returned victorious. Amidst the cheers of the populace in Zhuolu City, a subtle sadness lingered. They silently hoped the enraged northwest army, upon seeing the bodies on the city walls, would storm the palace, ending the tyrant's reign and avenging General Sikong.

Five years prior, the entire Yan Country yearned for the day the tyrant would meet his end. From courtiers to beggars, none dared to act. Unbeknownst to the populace, after the bloody massacre at Chiyang Palace, the courtiers glimpsed the secret of Xuanjia. A covert force of unfathomable strength shadowed the tyrant, eliminating the dead loyalists nurtured by the Ministry of War in just one night.

They were the key to toppling Jun Changsheng! Sikong knew, from firsthand experience, the depth of Xuanjia's power. Recollecting the excruciating pain of limbs being broken, embedded in his memory despite inhabiting a new body, Sikong realized to eliminate Jun Changsheng, he must first deal with Xuanjia.

Previously, in the northwest, he had the chance, but Jun Changsheng timely recalled the six Xuanjia stationed there, missing the opportunity. However, this wasn't his greatest regret. Currently, Sikong's foremost concern was the commander of Xuanjia, the operative who incapacitated him effortlessly. If Jun Changsheng didn't require him alive, Sikong harbored no doubt the operative could silently take his head, leaving him unaware of his demise.

It was a terrifying prospect. Sikong, known as the Yan Country's war deity, revered even by the rival Daqi, had his own assessment. Yet, on the day of his capture, he was stunned to find someone whose martial prowess surpassed his. This formidable individual rendered him powerless!

This was the true threat. Closing his eyes, Sikong tried to calm the surging turmoil within. Unbeknownst to Jun Changyue, he lightly caressed Sikong's shoulder, assuming his unrest.

Sikong opened his eyes, smiling wearily at him. Before he could speak, a chilling sensation crept over his neck, as if a steel blade rested against it, a sensation all too familiar...

Sikong abruptly turned, spotting a tall figure atop the city wall's flagpole. Clad in black, the figure, concealed behind a mask, observed the northwest army, specifically Sikong leading the cavalry.

With a mask veiling the face, only sharp brows and cold wolf-like eyes were visible. Brandishing a blood-stained blade, their dark hair billowed in the wind, emanating a murderous intent, an absolute malice.

Sikong's heart sank as he instantly recognized. His entire being froze on horseback, his overwhelming hatred upon reincarnation replaced entirely by fear, the urge to flee!

"What's wrong?" Jun Changyue sensed Sikong's unusual reaction and whispered softly, glancing in the direction, but saw nothing.

His voice snapped Sikong out of his daze. Startled, Sikong looked again, finding no one on the city wall, only the waving flag. This masterpiece is shared by SitoReader.

"Nothing..." Sikong replied, his face drained of color, his breath already ragged.

He couldn't be mistaken; this person's skills were uncannily stealthy. Gripping the reins tighter, he heard his heart pounding, ashamed of his fear. A man who had died once, endured torture, had dared to challenge a tyrant, now cowered in fright.

He had learned the true terror of death...

Sikong couldn't believe he'd fear death one day.

"I'll return to the palace first, inquire about the king's mood. It might arouse suspicion if I stay too long; we might not be able to be together for a few days," Jun Changyue suggested after settling the troops. He and Sikong found a secluded spot to bid farewell, reluctant to part.

Clasping Sikong tightly, though Sikong also didn't want to let go, he remained silent, seeming distracted.

"What's wrong?" Jun Changyue raised his head. "You've been uneasy since entering the city."

"It's nothing. Xuanjia No. 21 is our major concern. Now that I've returned to the city, my anger might get the better of me. I fear I might act impulsively," Sikong explained.

Apart from love, Jun Changyue held an unparalleled admiration for Sikong. How could Sikong tell him his heart was filled with lingering fear, the rage dissipating upon encountering that person upon entering the city?

"I know your hatred runs deep, as does mine. But although the king has lost the people's trust and earned a foul reputation, he still wields absolute power over life and death. With those inscrutable guards around him, we must plan carefully. All debts will be settled." Smiling, Jun Changyue traced the contours of his lover's face with his fingertips. Despite inhabiting a different body now, the affection in his eyes remained unchanged.

Sikong nodded, gazing at the sky. "It's getting late. It'll turn cold soon. Go back to the palace."

Reluctantly bidding farewell, one entered the palace, the other discreetly communicating with their previous arrangements. Sikong didn't easily reveal his identity, merely inquiring about the Sikong family's situation.

The person he contacted was Zhang Hui, once under his command, now elevated to infiltrate the military's intelligence for Sikong. Sikong trusted Zhang Hui; at least, on non-sensitive matters, he knew Zhang Hui wouldn't lie.

"The day the forty-nine members of the Sikong family were tortured to death was beyond description. Blood painted Zhuolu City red. General Sikong was said to be killed by a single arrow from the king. He had a relatively swift death compared to the rest," Zhang Hui lamented, sipping his drink, pouring the rest onto the ground in tribute to the departed General Sikong.

Sikong felt his breath grow heavier with each word, his teeth nearly grinding to pieces. Imagining the scene of his family being tortured, his hatred surged."

This translated passage focuses on political intrigue, betrayal, and the internal struggles of characters within the context of a complex social and political landscape.

At this moment, Zhang Hui sighed heavily, saying, "The common folks may not know, but our brothers in the military know well. General Sikong avoided the gruesome punishment because of Prince Jing's plea. It's a pity though. Despite the great favor the King bestowed upon Prince Jing, his heart only held the General. After the General's death, while the King forbade offering sacrifices, he never mentioned the rest of Sikong's family. Those forty-nine bodies are still lying at Qutou Slope, untouched by any of us. Surprisingly, even after the General's demise, Prince Jing showed no concern, allowing the remains to be ravaged by beasts. I wonder if the rumors about Prince Jing's feelings for the General are true."

Sikong Han was taken aback, slowly brewing a different feeling inside.

Zhang Hui glanced at him, nudging him with his elbow, whispering, "If these words spread, my neck's as good as on the line. I'm only telling you because you're from the Northwestern Army."

"I understand. Thank you." Sikong Han felt extremely uncomfortable and hastily paid for the drinks before leaving the tavern in a daze.

The mournful expression on Zhang Hui's face vanished instantly, replaced by a cold sneer as he watched Sikong Han disappear.

After receiving specific information, Sikong Han, somewhat cleverly, refrained from personally going to Qutou Slope to retrieve his family's remains. Instead, he asked General Yunhui to secretly bury the bodies there, preventing further disturbance by wild beasts. This General Yunhui was quite magnanimous, having spent years in Northwestern battles, unaware of how many from the Sikong family had perished. It was unknown if the tyrant lived up to his rumored ferocity. Sikong Han barely finished speaking when General Yunhui readily agreed.

That night, Sikong Han, somewhat inebriated in his chamber, kowtowed deeply towards Qutou Slope, shedding tears profusely.

Meanwhile, in the Crimson Cloud Palace, Nie Jia had just finished bathing. Her damp, lustrous hair cascaded as she reclined on the bed, concurrently playing chess with Shi Chen. A palace attendant fanned them gently as an old eunuch entered and reported, "Reporting to the King, Prince Jing of the Northwestern Army has returned and is currently waiting outside the hall, seeking an audience."

Before Nie Jia could speak, Shi Chen indifferently remarked, "Let him wait."

Nie Jia smiled faintly, made her move, and said, "I've won."

Shi Chen smirked, "You always win. Want another round?"

Twirling a cold chess piece between her fingers, Nie Jia gazed enticingly at Shi Chen's collarbone and slowly suggested, "That's boring. How about a different game? Whoever loses, removes a piece of clothing."

"Playful," Shi Chen's gaze softened.

The old eunuch dared not listen further and, seeing that the King had no intention of meeting Prince Jing, swiftly departed.

Thinking the King might summon him, Jun Changyue attempted to enter but was intercepted.

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