YING ZHENG'S NUCLEAR BOMB
Part Four
6
Even ants cling to life—how much more so a man.
Under threat of death, the proxy agreed to smuggle Dodge and me into the Qin palace. As for the four scientists, we arranged for them to be safely hidden away; their lives were the most valuable asset we had.
With the proxy guiding us, we made it into the palace. The Qin palace was staggeringly grand, befitting the strongest state of the Warring States era. No wonder history recorded that Qin Wuyang trembled on his way to present the audience—if it had been me, I'd have wet myself.
We reached the inner sanctum of the Qin palace—Ying Zheng's personal quarters. At the entrance, two eunuch attendants blocked our path, asking in soft voices: "This face is unfamiliar. Who are you?"
Dodge stood right behind the proxy, a dagger pressed into his kidney. The proxy swallowed hard and said, "By the King's secret decree. Let us pass."
The attendants, clearly aware of this man's special relationship with the King, didn't question further and stepped aside.
The bedchamber was vast and empty. In the flickering candlelight, the King sat alone at his low desk, a pot of wine and a few small dishes beside him—he'd clearly been waiting for some time. Seeing the proxy enter, he began to rise, then caught sight of Dodge behind him and froze.
This was my first time seeing Ying Zheng—or rather, Slater. The man history called the First Emperor had narrow, slanted eyes, a high-bridged nose, and a hawk-like chin that radiated hunger for dominion. He stared for a moment, then suddenly threw back his head and laughed.
Dodge looked at him, eyes dark and still as deep water. "Should I call you Slater, or Ying Zheng?"
"Impressive. Truly impressive, Dodge." He applauded slowly. "I spent four years training that proxy, and you saw through him in a single day."
"Sending a fake to deal with us—what exactly are you trying to achieve?"
"Nothing in particular. It's just that, as King of Qin, I can hardly consort with you in person. So—" He settled back and poured a cup of wine. "Dodge, sit. Try this palace brew—you've never tasted anything like it."
Dodge took the cup and dashed its contents onto the floor. "This decree of yours, 'Time Travelers Must Die'—it was nothing but a way to flush us out. Then you go and send a proxy to 'rescue' us. What's your game?"
"Curiosity," Slater said. "Six years ago, when I crossed over into this era, I was full of it too. Based on my knowledge of history, it took me only one year to enter the Qin palace and become part of Ying Zheng's inner circle. Another year to craft a facial mold of Ying Zheng, find the right moment, eliminate him, and take his place. I had the world, I had power, I had wealth... but my curiosity never waned. For six years, I've been tormented by the question: why did the Alliance send me here? What was the real plan?"
"So you sent a proxy to make contact with us."
"Exactly. I wanted to know the full scope of the Genesis Project. It's become my obsession. The Alliance didn't trust me six years ago—they told me nothing, just dispatched me like a pawn crossing the river. Dodge, being a pawn is a wretched feeling. So I decided to choose my own fate—to be the king of this era!"
"This seat was meant for me, but since you've already claimed it, you've saved me considerable trouble. All right, I can tell you the ultimate objective of the Genesis Project—"
"Don't!" Slater suddenly roared. "The moment I saw you, I changed my mind. I no longer care about your damned Genesis Project, and you can forget about making me do anything!"
"You must! Slater, I'm your commanding officer!"
"Commanding officer?" His eyes went wide, then he erupted into wild laughter. "Hahaha—commanding officer, that's rich, almost killed me—I'd forgotten I even had one..." His face darkened in an instant. "I am the exalted King of Qin, the master of this era! I have no commanding officer. Everyone must bow before me! The Revival Alliance means nothing to me anymore—not one cent!"
"Slater, you're betraying the organization?"
"As King of Qin, I can betray anyone." A smirk played across his lips. He clapped his hands, and from outside came the sound of marching boots and clashing armor. My heart sank—the Tiger Guard, the elite force responsible for the Qin palace's internal security!
Dodge moved fast. He drew his dagger, lunged forward, and seized Slater as a hostage, bellowing at the pouring-in guards: "Back! Get back!"
The two eunuch attendants squealed in panic: "Careful! Don't let him harm the King!"
The armored guards halted, caught between aggression and caution. Dodge held Slater at knifepoint and shouted to me: "Quinn—we retreat!"
We backed deeper into the palace, Dodge using Slater as a shield, the guards reluctant to press too close for fear of harming their king. We retreated until we reached a cluttered storage room at the palace's far end—no way out. I turned to Dodge with something close to despair. This was the classic trap-in-a-jar scenario.
Slater laughed. "Dodge, I advise you to surrender. You're not getting out of here."
"Goodbye, Slater."
"What—"
In that brief moment of confusion, Dodge's dagger plunged through Slater's throat. Blood fountained out, splashing me head to toe. I gaped at Slater's body twitching in its crimson pool, nearly losing my mind. "You're insane! He was our hostage! You killed him, and now those guards will chop us into mincemeat!"
Dodge didn't respond. He crouched over Slater's body, feeling along the face, and slowly peeled away a layer of facial prosthetic.
"Quinn," he said, looking at me. "Only one of us is going to make it out of here alive."
I froze. In a flash, I understood his plan.
He gave a faint, bittersweet smile. "But for now, your build is a better match than mine. Quinn—I ask you, will you faithfully carry out the Genesis Project?"
"Dodge, I—"
"Don't waste words. Answer me!"
"I will."
"Good. Very good." Dodge smiled with something like relief—and drove the dagger into his own chest.
"Don't forget your promise, Quinn," Dodge whispered.
7
The facial prosthetic sat on my face like applying a mask—though that sensation lasted only an instant. Within moments, it seemed to bond with my skin as though it had always been part of me.
I knew that in a few days, I'd forget it was even there.
The Tiger Guards swarmed in, their torches turning the little storage room as bright as day. I did my best to mimic their accent and said coolly, "Clean this up."
The guards turned over Dodge's body and checked it. His expression was calm; he had been dead for some time.
They turned over Slater's body next. I'd already swapped clothes with him and hacked his face beyond recognition. The guards would take him for the other assassin.
"Both intruders are dead, Your Majesty," they reported. Everyone knelt. "Long live the King."
The guards dragged the proxy forward. "Your Majesty, this man led the assassins into the palace. How should he be disposed of?"
The proxy's eyes bulged with desperate panic. "Your Majesty, Your Majesty, it's me! I'm the real one—"
I flicked my sleeve. "Execute him."
His mouth gaped open, but before a single syllable could escape, a Tiger Guard's blade swept down. Cold light flashed, and the proxy's head rolled across the floor.
I betrayed no expression. I walked through the kneeling ranks and out. I knew that I would not even be permitted a corner in which to weep privately.
History does not believe in tears.
There was still so much to do. I had to unify the six kingdoms. I had to pacify the world. I had to build the grand imperial tomb.
From the future to the Warring States era, twelve space-time portals would arrive. I would collect all the weapons of the realm, cast them into the Twelve Golden Colossi, and seal every time-travel portal forever. From that moment on, Great Qin and the future would have no connection whatsoever. The law of historical causality would be impregnable, flowing onward like the great river itself.
Until the day we had promised.
END
Beautiful Old World ➔