The Villain Slaps The Protagonist’s Halo - Chapter 58

Chapter 58: The Protagonist Must Die

Nie Jia handed the slightly cooled hand stove to the servant standing nearby to add more charcoal. Jun Changyue knelt on the ground, tears streaking his face, still looking up as if he didn't recognize his elder brother.

He looked just as he remembered—frail, melancholic, despite being a year older, appearing as though he was only fifteen or sixteen due to his fragile health. He often huddled in a pile of furs regardless of the season, especially in winter, appearing so feeble that one would doubt if he might perish in the snowstorm.

But something seemed different now.

"Elder brother... must you be so heartless even to your younger brother?" Jun Changyue murmured, disappointed.

As the servant returned with charcoal, Nie Jia held the warm hand stove, his gaze chilling as he looked at Jun Changyue. "Then, what do you expect me to do?"

Jun Changyue wiped a tear, hastily bowing deeply, his trembling voice emanating from below, "I implore my brother to give Sikong Han a proper burial. His treason is a capital offense, but now that you've killed him, can't you consider his past countless contributions to you and let him rest in peace?"

Thinking of the bloody corpse on the city wall from that morning, Jun Changyue felt unbearable pain, nearly fainting on the spot. He never imagined the king would be so ruthless, denying Sikong Han peace even in death, hanging him like a piece of meat...

That was Yan Country's war hero!

Jun Changyue pressed his forehead against his hand, gritting his teeth, trembling all over.

"If I don't agree, does that make me heartless?" Nie Jia calmly countered. Jun Changyue shivered upon hearing the king's stern voice, "Look up!"

Jun Changyue slowly straightened his back, glaring at Nie Jia with resentment. "Do you know that the enemy nation is celebrating your execution of him? If Xilang attacks again, who will you send to the front lines? Sikong Han has guarded the northwest for years, repelling Xilang's advances. Our peace today owes much to him. Even if he rebelled... it was for the people's plea. Now that he has paid the price, aren't his past merits enough to grant him peace after death?" Jun Changyue paused, then, lowering his head, gritted his teeth in dissatisfaction, "Moreover, by hanging him on the city wall for display, aren't you just intimidating the courtiers and people? This is the fate of treason. Surely, you know why Sikong Han chose to rebel..."

Jun Changyue seemed to realize he'd gone too far, slowly stopping himself, but the king remained silent. He couldn't help but look up, catching the king's mocking gaze, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Sikong Han is a warrior, defending Yan Country is his duty. But to you, he has become the savior of the entire country? Praise him as a war god, and he starts to think he's the master, not just serving the king but aiming for the throne itself." Nie Jia sneered, bending down to grip Jun Changyue's chin mockingly, "You, the serene prince, pleading for him in such a pitiful manner, breaking your head for him before his death, even confronting the king for him after his death. And Sikong Han? If he truly loved you, why would he plot treason? Regardless of success or failure, there's no place for you, serene prince. He's just using you, you fool."

With a dismissive toss, Nie Jia threw Jun Changyue to the ground.

Jun Changyue, still dazed, sat on the ground, his eyes vacant for a moment before quickly regaining his composure, now filled with stubbornness.

Nie Jia sneered inwardly; he didn't expect a few words to wake Jun Changyue up. Sikong Han had already started anew in the northwest army. A little nudge like this was enough; when they met again in the future, this seed would sprout. Nie Jia felt tired, gesturing faintly before returning to the palace.

Leaving Jun Changyue kneeling on the ground, grinding his teeth. Soon after, the old eunuch returned, gravely advising, "Your Highness, please don't forget, the Great King is your only kin."

Having spoken, he left.

Jun Changyue, his eyes red, gritted his teeth vehemently, "He's not!"

On the way back to his chamber, the old eunuch advised, "Your Highness, from childhood, you've been doted on by the Serene Prince. You shouldn't take it to heart."

Nie Jia leaned back, feigning sleep, saying nothing as if he hadn't heard.

Suddenly, the young eunuch carrying the steps slipped, almost falling. Fortunately, a guard reacted swiftly, preventing Nie Jia from falling.

"Y-your Majesty, spare me!" The young eunuch, bleeding from his knees, trembled in fear, bowing repeatedly.

Nie Jia opened his eyes after the slight jolt.

With heavy snowfall yesterday, the palace was desolate with few masters around. Considering the cold winter, the servants only cleared the snow from a few paths, resulting in the eunuch's slip.

The attendants and guards pitied the young eunuch, sensing his life might be in jeopardy.

Surprisingly, the young king didn't show anger, just wearily closed his eyes again, waving his hand gently, "You may go rest."

The young eunuch was stunned and, only when the king's steps were distant, tearfully kowtowed a few times from a distance.

Back in his desolate chamber, Nie Jia fell into a slump, unmotivated. He had a stack of documents but couldn't focus, consumed by his worries about whether Shi Chen had arrived in this world. Spending the afternoon locked in his chamber, he handed an odd design to the old eunuch to be forged and spent the night clanking steel parts together.

This world was chaotic; Yan Country, this small nation, might perish any day. Nie Jia constantly worried about Shi Chen, always thinking about preparing some defensive weapon for him before they found each other. Despite having designs for various weapons, the world lacked the means to create them, leaving him to tinker with simple armaments.

Once Sikong Han died, court officials and citizens alike feared the cruelty of their sovereign. But Nie Jia's act of hanging Sikong Han's corpse on the city wall undoubtedly enraged the court, especially Sikong Han's former subordinates. Egged on by Jun Changyue, they repeatedly presented pleas at the royal court, begging the king to give Sikong Han a proper burial.

The unanimity in the court's severe stance was akin to openly slapping the king's face.

Nie Jia was already in a volatile mood and being attacked from all sides in the court only fueled his anger further. He slammed all the petitions for Sikong Han's burial in front of the courtiers, exclaiming, "Anyone daring to plead for that traitor Sikong will join him hanging on the walls!"

With that, he stormed out. After Sikong Han's death, the courtiers dared to unanimously request the king to bury the war hero not just due to Jun Changyue's persuasion but also because the first plea documents didn't anger the young king. Assuming he sought a way out for himself, more people came forward. But contrary to expectations, he was furious that day.

For a moment, the courtiers fell silent as they knew the young king's temperament all too well.

Yet, despite this atmosphere, the next day's petition included a plea for Sikong Han. Nie Jia picked that specific document, expressionless, and, with a flick of his fingers, tossed it towards a military officer, coldly saying, "As I said yesterday, those who plead for Sikong, traitors, will face consequences. Do you have anything to add?"

The military officer, a former comrade of Sikong Han and a decorated general, who had covertly assisted Sikong Han after his rebirth, stepped forward boldly, bowing respectfully. He met the young king's gaze, stating, "Your Majesty, though General Sikong committed crimes, he remains a symbol of the people's hopes. We beseech Your Majesty to grant him a dignified burial, not only for your honor but also for the peace of the people."

A persuasive plea indeed. Nie Jia sneered slowly, a chilling intent in his eyes, "For the peace of the people, a grand burial for a traitor intending rebellion. Would it be that, in the future, for the people's peace, I should hand over my throne to others?"

The general furrowed his brows, unable to respond, feeling choked. Had it been in the military camp, he would have acted against such insolence!

"Does anyone else support this plea?" Nie Jia lazily inquired, sweeping his gaze over the courtiers, who all bowed their heads, afraid to speak.

Nie Jia gestured, and from the high beam of the Nine Dragon Hall, a dark figure swiftly descended. In an instant, the courtiers heard the unsheathing of a steel blade, swiftly followed by its resheathing. The head of the general rolled to the ground, blood gushing, and before anyone could see who the assailant was, they disappeared back into the shadows.

Several senior officials, overwhelmed with fear, fainted on the spot, their eyes wide in shock.

"Hang him next to Sikong, the traitor," Nie Jia ordered calmly as the guards carried away the general's corpse.

From then on, no one dared to oppose him. The courtiers kneeled in fear, and the blood of the valiant general stained the ground. This was how one of Sikong Han's most significant supports after his rebirth met his end. Nie Jia chuckled sardonically, "Court's adjourned."

The general's body was soon hung beside Sikong Han's, two bloody corpses adorning the city wall, sending ripples of fear through the people of Zhuolu City.

Upon hearing that his brother killed the valiant general, Jun Changyue was so enraged that he cried at his desk for half an afternoon.

The tyrant had not hesitated to take lives before, but this was the first time he had killed two defenders of the nation, chilling the hearts of the entire Yan Country. With Sikong Han and the general's deaths, courtiers and citizens felt that the Yan Country was doomed, its fate sealed.

If only this tyrant weren't ruling. If only the gentle Crown Prince Jing, concerned for the people, could ascend the throne, then perhaps Yan Country could find a way out.

Such thoughts crossed the minds of the people and the courtiers alike. Especially Sikong Han's supporters, who, after the general's death, were completely incensed. They discovered that among the usual guards around the tyrant, inexplicably, only one remained. It was a rare opportunity to assassinate the tyrant!

That night, Nie Jia had barely fallen asleep when he heard disarrayed footsteps on the eaves. He furrowed his brows, opened his eyes slowly, and said, "Finally."

Sikong's supporters were no ordinary lot; they had breached the palace without alerting the guards and had clashed with only one royal guard stationed outside. Apart from the footsteps, there was a faint sound of swords clashing, indicating they were already in combat.

Nie Jia wasn't concerned about the guard's safety. A master of that caliber was beyond his worry.

As he thought, with a loud crash, a dark figure broke through the window, aiming a weapon at the king's neck on the bed.

Nie Jia's gaze turned icy, and he swiftly threw off the covers, sitting up as if ready to engage in combat. The assailant, confident of success, suddenly felt a chilling sensation at their forehead, collapsing instantly.

The royal guard, covered in blood, rushed into the room, panting heavily. Seeing the dead assassin on the floor, a tiny bloodstain on their forehead, and the king lifting his head, a cold steel bracelet wrapped around his wrist, revealing four small arrowheads.

"I have failed in protecting Your Majesty and deserve death!" The guard quickly kneeled, confessing his failure.

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