General 2
On the day of the banquet, the entire imperial palace was bustling with activity.
Tang Xi observed everything and understood that the palace servants were busy preparing for today’s feast.
If it were the original character, he would have been displeased, thinking that such an extravagant setup for a mere general was excessive. However, since the banquet was only announced yesterday, it was natural that a royal event of this scale would be grand and somewhat chaotic.
This affair was not something Shen Xing should have handled, but he had always extended his reach too far. Over the years, he had become so accustomed to this level of control that almost no ministers dared to object.
Perhaps in the beginning, a few loyal royalists had tried to advise the emperor, but how could a sixteen-year-old puppet emperor, thrust onto the throne, accept harsh truths?
Some veteran officials were even dismissed by imperial decree because of their persistence. With Shen Xing secretly adding fuel to the fire, those who dared to speak out gradually disappeared.
Half of the empire was already in Shen Xing’s hands, while the other half belonged to the war god, General Nie Rong. And as for Tang Xi—he had nothing.
Standing by the railing, Tang Xi watched the koi fish in the pond fighting over the bait he had thrown in, splashing water everywhere. As he observed their struggle, he couldn’t help but feel melancholic about his own predicament—while secretly drooling.
[1551, these fish look so plump… Oh, I mean, they look so beautiful.]
1551: [Wipe your drool, you foolish cat. You should be heading to the palace gates to welcome the villain. The eunuch behind you is on the verge of panic.]
The emperor remains calm, but the eunuchs are anxious.
Even the late emperor would personally go to the city gates to welcome triumphant warriors returning from battle. Not only had Tang Xi changed the location to the palace gates, but now he was also stalling, refusing to set off.
If he delayed any longer, he might actually be late.
At that point, if Nie Rong and his thousand elite soldiers were left waiting outside the palace gates, things could turn disastrous.
Although the imperial city had five thousand imperial guards, Nie Rong’s Broken Feather Army was so formidable that even a thousand of them could overpower the five thousand imperial guards—let alone the tens of thousands of battle-hardened Broken Feather soldiers stationed just outside the capital. Their blades might still be stained with their enemies’ blood, making them a force far beyond what the pampered imperial guards could withstand.
Eunuch De was frantic, but he dared not interrupt the young emperor’s moment of fish-watching.
The little emperor had never shown any interest in the fish of the imperial garden before, so suddenly stopping to watch them now could only mean one thing—he was deliberately giving Nie Rong a hard time. Though Eunuch De knew this wasn’t appropriate, he didn’t dare to intervene.
In truth, Tang Xi had simply been mesmerized by the fish, completely unaware that he had scared the entire entourage half to death.
Realizing the situation, he quickly waved his sleeve and pretended to be annoyed. “Bring my sedan chair!”
The sedan chair was much faster than walking—those cobblestone paths in the imperial garden were torturous.
He felt wronged. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hurry to the city gates to welcome the villain, but his character setting wouldn’t allow him to treat Nie Rong kindly.
Not only could he not be nice to him, but he also had to treat him as a thorn in his side.
Rocking back and forth in the sedan chair, he finally arrived in time.
“Long live His Majesty! Long live! Long live!” The crowd chanted.
Tang Xi did his best to steady his voice. “Rise.”
He wanted nothing more than to push the palace doors open himself, but instead, he kept his face expressionless.
“Open the palace gates—”
The vermillion palace doors slowly swung open.
Tang Xi lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Nie Rong, who sat atop a blood-red warhorse, its coat darkened by dried blood.
His presence was imposing, exuding an aura of power and dominance. His iron armor was still stained with fresh blood, and the tip of his blade glowed coldly as it pointed downward.
Even from a distance, Tang Xi could almost smell the blood seeping from Nie Rong’s very being.
His gaze was one that had seen mountains of corpses and seas of blood—a presence that could only belong to someone who had just stepped out of hell itself.
Nie Rong stared at Tang Xi intently before slowly breaking into a roguish smile.
“Your Majesty,” he drawled, “Your subject has returned.”
Some of the onlookers with weaker resolve were already trembling.
Tang Xi, however, was not afraid at all.
In fact, deep in his mind, he had an unshakable, almost certain premonition.
This person is his poop scooper.
The two of them stared at each other as if no one else was around.
Nie Rong raised an eyebrow slightly—this young emperor seemed a little different from what he remembered.
The once-blurry impression of the tyrant in his mind had been completely replaced by these curious, cat-like eyes.
They blinked rapidly, round and bright, like a kitten’s. He was clearly full of curiosity, yet he deliberately kept a cold expression.
His delicate little face, framed by the golden dragon robe, made his lips appear even redder and his teeth whiter.
Shen Xing was the first to break the silence, speaking on behalf of the young emperor with a few formal pleasantries.
Just now, when the emperor ignored Nie Rong’s greeting—“Your subject has returned.”—it could be seen as dissatisfaction. To outsiders, it looked like he was displeased that Nie Rong hadn’t knelt before him.
But who here would dare to accuse this fearsome man of defying protocol?
Shen Xing spoke at length, yet all he got in return was a single indifferent glance from Nie Rong.
A sudden surge of irritation rose in Nie Rong’s chest—he wanted to hear the emperor speak, but this buzzing fly kept interrupting.
Shen Xing felt a cold sweat trickle down his back under Nie Rong’s gaze, but his face remained composed, still wearing a calm smile.
Suppressing his inexplicable anger, Nie Rong dismounted swiftly and knelt on one knee, his deep, resonant voice ringing out:
“Long live His Majesty, long live, long live forever.”
In this dynasty, ministers only needed to kneel on one knee when meeting the emperor.
The moment he finished speaking, the elite soldiers behind him, trained to perfection, followed suit. They set down their weapons and knelt, their voices thundering in unison:
“Long live His Majesty, long live, long live forever!”
The sound was deafening, their sheer presence enough to overwhelm.
Tang Xi resisted the urge to let his tail flick out in fear, forcing himself to remain composed. “Rise.”
Imitating Shen Xing, he muttered a few words of gratitude—so perfunctory that anyone could tell he didn’t mean it.
Yet under the sunlight, his snow-white little face gradually flushed red, looking both pitiful and adorable. No one had the heart to reprimand him.
Even the hardened soldiers of the Broken Feather Army, who had always despised this so-called useless tyrant, remained silent. These rough, battle-hardened men—who had spent years in the frontier—had never seen a porcelain doll of an emperor before, one who blushed just from standing in the sun. They found themselves unable to muster any real dislike.
Perhaps it was those watery cat-like eyes—too captivating for their own good.
The men, accustomed to the brutality of war, stood tall and rigid like pine trees, yet their eyes were shamelessly fixed on the young emperor.
They couldn’t help but think: As expected of a ruler raised by an entire empire—he really is different from everyone else.
The timid yet cunning little emperor could only pretend not to notice their stares.
. . . . .
The banquet was set for the evening. No matter how rough Nie Rong was, he wouldn’t attend while still wearing bloodstained armor.
As he removed the heavy armor, a wicked thought crossed his mind—if he did show up like this, the little emperor would probably throw a fit.
Might even cry. That little face turned red so easily under the sun… such a pampered child. Tsk.
Knock, knock.
“General.”
Outside, Zhang Xiaosheng raised his hand and knocked on the door.
Nie Rong fastened the last piece of his gold-embroidered belt. “Enter.”
“Did you meet that foolish emperor?” Zhang Xiaosheng asked.
He was Nie Rong’s right-hand man, both the strategist of the Broken Feather Army and a highly skilled martial artist.
When speaking privately with Nie Rong, he was always casual—despite his scholarly appearance, his personality was anything but refined.
“What about it?” Nie Rong frowned slightly.
Though he was loyal to the imperial family, it was only because he needed someone of that bloodline to sit on the throne. He had no actual respect for the emperor himself.
Normally, they referred to him as a foolish emperor in private, but for some reason, hearing it now felt unusually grating.
Zhang Xiaosheng misinterpreted Nie Rong’s frown, assuming he was dissatisfied with the emperor’s arrogance. He hadn’t attended the meeting earlier, but after hearing the reports from the soldiers who had, he was already furious.
Even the late emperor hadn’t dared to be so insolent.
“General, just say the word. No matter how dangerous, we’ll follow you through fire and blade!”
This was a clear suggestion of rebellion. He and his brothers had already tried to persuade him more than once.
But the general seemed to be under some kind of spell. Even though he clearly despised that foolish emperor, he still remained a staunch royalist.
If he was merely putting on a show while harboring ambitious intentions, then his comrades—who had fought alongside him through life and death—would have noticed.
But no, he was indeed a stubborn royalist.
It was utterly baffling.
Nie Rong’s expression suddenly darkened. This was the first time he reacted so strongly to this matter. “Don’t ever say such things again. Do you want to be flogged?”
Zhang Xiaosheng was secretly alarmed and quickly lowered his head in acknowledgment.
Meanwhile, Tang Xi, the little cat, had no idea that someone was trying to persuade his poop scooper to rebel. He was happily preparing for the banquet.
The young palace maids lowered their heads as they dressed him, their hands trembling slightly.
The emperor was surely in a bad mood today. General Nie Rong rarely returned to the capital—his last visit had been a year ago, and on that day, the emperor had been extremely irritable. That very night, he even executed two palace attendants.
Their crime? Simply being suspected of secretly praising General Nie’s heroic figure.
These palace maids were all at the age when young hearts would naturally admire a valiant warrior, but they dared not show even the slightest hint of joy at his arrival.
After finishing their duties, they were surprised to find that the emperor was actually in a decent mood today.
Tang Xi met eyes with one of the maids, Xia Mei, and instinctively smiled at her.
Realizing what he had done, he immediately straightened his expression, silently praying that his act wouldn’t crumble.
Fortunately, the system did not issue any warnings.
Xia Mei, on the other hand, was stunned. She had a lively and bold personality and had only wanted to sneak a glance. She hadn’t expected to meet his gaze directly, which froze her in place.
Even more unexpectedly, she received a fleeting yet sweet smile from the young emperor—so brief that she wondered if she had imagined it.
Oh no. She suddenly thought… the little emperor is kind of adorable.
The banquet began at dusk. By the time Tang Xi arrived, the hall was already filled with the clinking of wine cups and the graceful melodies of music and dance.
When the officials moved to bow, Tang Xi waved them off with a gesture, indicating there was no need. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, he made his way to the main seat.
The dancers and singers on stage subtly paused, waiting for him to sit and nod before continuing their performance as if nothing had happened.
It must be said that even if he was just a puppet without real power, such a position above thousands could easily be intoxicating.
He glanced around and noticed that Nie Rong was absent, a hint of displeasure flashing across his face.
As the main figure of this banquet, Nie Rong was actually late—later than even the Emperor himself. That was practically a slap in the Emperor’s face.
So, when Nie Rong finally arrived, some ministers exchanged cautious glances.
None of them dared to openly challenge this fearsome man.
There had once been an arrogant official who badmouthed him to his face—only to have his arm chopped off on the spot.
And that happened inside the palace. It was an act of sheer defiance, bordering on madness.
At the time, the newly crowned Emperor had been livid, but Nie Rong had shamelessly declared that if not for the Emperor’s presence, he would have cut out the man’s tongue as well.
Most people were eager to watch the drama unfold, curious to see how the so-called useless Emperor would react.
Only a handful of loyalist ministers looked visibly anxious, afraid that Nie Rong might end up clashing with the Emperor right then and there.
Yet, to everyone’s surprise, the unruly and untamed Nie Rong did something completely unexpected.
He knelt on one knee in a perfect formal salute.
“Long live the Emperor! Your Majesty, I have arrived late. Please punish me as you see fit.”
Tang Xi was momentarily stunned, just about to speak when Nie Rong beat him to it.
“But before Your Majesty grows angry, I ask that you first hear my explanation.”
Author’s Note: In this world, there is a version of Tang Xi with cat ears~