Rebirth As A Human Cauldron Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Crossing the Naihe bridge, drinking the soup of Forgetfulness by Meng Po, reentering the cycle…

Perhaps heaven truly had its eyes open in the second life, as he was born into the prestigious Yang family.

Yang Tianwei, the General who protected the nation, had spent his entire life on the battlefield, his reputation illustrious. However, his overwhelming aura of killing led him to lose wives, children, and friends. It wasn’t until nearly the age of fifty that he finally had an heir. Still, he didn’t coddle his son. He upheld the principle of raising a dutiful son beneath his iron discipline, dragging the young boy out into the courtyard before dawn to train.

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Years of continuous training had made him taller than his peers, but he had a small frame, thin and wrapped in a layer of muscles that shone with sweat in the sunlight.

Everyone praised the only son of the Yang family as a malleable talent. For such a young age, he was already so diligent; he was destined for greatness.

But only he knew that if he had a choice, he would want to live a freer life.

Then, a sudden outbreak of chaos shattered the calm. Urgent reports arrived from the border: the Southern Barbarian’s eight major tribes were leading an army of seventy thousand, advancing towards their territory. Despite years of peace within the capital, the army had been maintained and trained, but the seasoned generals had either retired or died, and the new recruits were mostly inexperienced and unfit for service.

And so, his father, now almost seventy, took out the ancestral tiger charm and made a life or death vow.

He was fourteen that year when he saw the sandstorms of the North Desert for the first time. The yellow soil was almost blowing his face off, and the intense sun glare was blinding.

Yet, he had to keep his eyes open—otherwise, he wouldn’t escape the gleaming blades that nearly sliced him in half.

Amidst the flashing knives and shadows of swords, how could he escape unscathed? When he grew accustomed to the unpredictability of blades, he was still caught in a sneak attack, nearly losing his life. It was his fellow soldiers who rushed in to protect him, sacrificing their bodies to block the attacks. The blood of comrades flooded his vision, turning the world into a sea of crimson.

He didn’t dare to die. He couldn’t let those lives that sacrificed themselves to save him go to waste. So, gritting his teeth, he endured until the moment his father dug him out from the pile of corpses, at which point he fell into complete unconsciousness.

When he woke up two days later, he was lying in a military tent, his body filled with the bitter taste of Chinese medicine. Bandages covered him in disarray, making even turning his head difficult.

And his father, who was usually stern and rarely showed any emotion, was now sitting by his bedside, dressed in armor that he hadn’t even had time to take off. The armor was stained with blood, and faint scars from blades were visible on top.

Yang Tianwei stood there silently, like a towering mountain in his heart. Although his presence was oppressive, it also brought a sense of peace.

He blinked his slightly blurry eyes. Perhaps due to the dim light in the tent, he noticed that his father’s hair at the temples had grown whiter, and the wrinkles between his brows and eyes had deepened.

The once invincible General who had ruled over all had aged. With half a foot in the coffin, he still stood with the other half in the mortal world, serving as a guardian against the lingering spirits and wandering ghosts.

For a brief moment, his eyes became slightly teary, and a hint of sorrow welled up in his nose. But his father’s hand pressed down on his chest once again, firmly holding back those emotions.

Yang Tianwei’s hand was large and calloused, shrouded in thick calluses… it was a hand that had killed, wielded guns, and held reins, but it had never embraced him.

Now, that hand rested on his chest, separated by bandages, pressing against his heart.

It felt as if the weight of the entire country rested in that hand, making him open his mouth wide and breathe heavily.

His tears had been held back so forcefully. With his face reddened, he heard the accelerated rhythm of his heartbeat, the blood of the Yang family boiling within him.

Success in one endeavor leads to the decline of tens of thousands of others.

Four years later, the former General had turned into bones. He donned his father’s armor, hoisted the Yang family’s battle flag, and received the tiger charm from that solid hand, symbolizing half the nation.

He scattered his father’s ashes across the vast desert, planted his father’s paired spears outside the General’s tent, the red tassels fluttering in the breeze, the silver spear gleaming just as brightly as before.

At the age of nineteen, he finally pacified the turmoil on the border. But before he could catch his breath, urgent news arrived from the capital: the Emperor had suddenly passed away.

The late Emperor had ruled diligently throughout his life. While he was suspicious and power-hungry, he was still considered a wise ruler. Now, he had three sons and two daughters, but the power was split between them. The Crown Prince and the Second Prince held half of the empire each.

The battle of the Twin Dragons had already escalated, and both factions were deeply entangled in political struggles. After he settled his affairs, he received a report from his scouts during his journey back to the capital. It stated that the Second Prince had rebelled and had already reached the outskirts of the Forbidden City.

He traveled day and night, enduring harsh conditions, and arrived within the city, but he was only in time to witness a scene of devastation. The Second Prince had been killed by the Imperial Guards, and the Crown Prince was severely injured and unconscious, with little chance of recovery. The remaining courtiers wailed incessantly, claiming that the nation’s fate was sealed.

He paid no heed to this; stepping over the corpses of the elderly, he trudged across the blood-stained steps and marched directly into the courtyard of the Fifth Prince’s residence.

He kicked open the door, and the head of a body that had been hacked to death with a random blade fell down. He used his long spear to pry the body out of the way.

“Your Highness, Fifth Prince… Your Highness, Fifth Prince…”

He shouted loudly, his sturdy boots crushing the stiff bones beneath them. His silver spear, stained with blood, dragged along the ground, leaving deep tracks in its wake.

In the midst of the desperate struggle of the Second Prince, he had not spared his not-so-prominent younger brother. This was probably because he feared that in a struggle, he would profit just as the fisherman does when two bicker. He had all sorts of chaotic thoughts, and he thrust his spear through the lock of the main bedroom’s door, breaking in.

The room, not particularly spacious, was filled with a heavy stench of blood that was suffocating. His eyes widened as he stared at the pile of three or four bodies on the bed. He hurried forward and uncovered them.

The topmost body was that of a middle-aged man, his features obscured by blood. He wore the insignia of a minor palace attendant and had been stabbed through the heart from behind by a dagger.

In the middle lay a woman, somewhat plump, with her abdomen cut open and entrails strewn about.

The other two bodies were those of a young boy and girl, their faces pale and lifeless. He ordered someone to move them aside and dug the barely breathing Fifth Prince out from the pile of corpses, cradling him in his arms.

Unlike his two elder brothers who were close to thirty, the status of the Fifth Prince’s mother was lower. She died from childbirth complications soon after giving birth to him. The Emperor, being power-hungry, didn’t want too many sons, so the Fifth Prince was raised in this remote palace, rarely seen by the public.

Now, the Fifth Prince was just thirteen, a young boy barely reaching adolescence. He now lay unconscious in his arms, so light that he was almost weightless.

Thankfully, the Fifth Prince was still alive. As if finally relieved, he held the bloodied Fifth Prince and left the room. When his subordinates approached to ask how to handle the four corpses, he sighed, thinking of how these four had shielded their lord with their bodies. “Give them proper burials.”

The entire palace was drenched in blood, but the Yangxin Palace where the late Emperor had resided, remained relatively peaceful. Despite the infighting between the two princes, no one had disturbed the tranquility the Emperor had left behind. Yet now, he had rushed in with the unconscious Fifth Prince in his arms. He placed him gently on the bed and carefully removed his blood-soaked armor. Rubbing his hands that were tainted with bloodstains, he carefully loosened the Fifth Prince’s clothing, while also instructing a servant, “Summon the imperial physician.”

The young prince’s body seemed too delicate, and his pale skin revealed protruding ribs. Fortunately, removing the intimidating blood-stained clothes revealed no injuries on his body, which relieved him.

Since joining the army, he hadn’t engaged in any delicate tasks. Now, while changing the prince’s clothes, he was drenched in sweat. The body before him was too fragile, like a delicate work of art that could shatter with a slight mistake.

When the belated imperial physician knelt at the door, he didn’t turn around but gently covered the prince with a blanket. “Come, examine His Highness the Fifth Prince’s condition.”

As he stood aside, his expression remained neutral, yet it made it difficult for anyone to raise their head.

Five years of battlefield campaigns had worn away the youthful impetuosity from his body, leaving behind a restrained aura of bloodlust that exuded a kind of commanding presence without anger.

If not for his slightly tender countenance, he would bear an uncanny resemblance to General Yang in his prime, or even exceed him in some ways.

The trembling imperial physician finished checking the pulse. “Reporting to General… His Highness the Fifth Prince is merely suffering from extreme shock and malnutrition. Apart from that, there’s nothing significant. He just needs to rest and recuperate. I’ll prescribe a few herbal remedies…”

“When do you think he’ll wake up?”

“This… perhaps one or two days at the earliest, or five to six days at the latest…” The imperial physician lowered his head deeply.

Hearing this, he couldn’t help but furrow his brows. With the death of the Second Prince and the Crown Prince’s unconsciousness, the Empire could not remain without a ruler. The remaining Fifth Prince had become the last hope of the imperial family, someone who must remain safe at all costs.

Thinking this way, he extended his hand and discreetly held the young prince’s pale, cold fingers, warming them with his calloused palm.

When his father had pulled him from the pile of corpses, he had stood by his bedside, not sleeping or resting for two days.

Now it was his turn to rescue the Fifth Prince from the same fate, tending to him day and night, never leaving his side.

Four days later, the jade-like youth’s eyelashes trembled a few times and slowly woke up.

Only then did he finally feel a weight lift from his chest. He kneeled down on one knee, his voice choked, “I apologize for saving you late… I ask for Your Highness’s forgiveness.”

With that single knee, he didn’t lift his head for a long while, until a weak and faint voice reached his ears, “Are you… General Yang?”

That voice paused for a moment, “General Yang, please rise quickly. You were personally appointed as the Guardian General by the Emperor. I… cough… still need to…cough…” He was interrupted by a series of coughs, and he hastily got up, his hand patting the young prince’s bent back. “Take it easy, Your Highness…”

“Emperor… cough, yes, the Emperor has passed away.” The Fifth Prince stared with wide eyes, his small face, about the size of a palm, showing nothing but confusion. “My brothers, my brothers fought over the throne… the Second Prince wanted to kill me… cough, cough, cough!”

As if suddenly recalling something, the young prince’s slender body trembled violently. His thin undershirt clung to his frail curves, and he could even feel the prominent bones on his back. His heart softened instantly, and he hesitated before stepping forward, carefully cradling the young prince, who had just experienced hell, in his arms.

“Your Highness, don’t be afraid… I’m here, and no one will harm you again.” Awkwardly trying to comfort him, he patted the young prince’s dark, long hair. The cold strands brushed against his fingertips, emitting a faint friction sound.

As if stimulated by this embrace — not particularly robust but sturdy — the Fifth Prince buried his face in his shoulder. After a moment, a warm sensation soaked through their clothes. He didn’t say anything, just held the prince even tighter.

Once they had calmed down, the Fifth Prince, with red eyes, finished the rice porridge he had brought and leaned against the bed, lost in thought.

The warm yellow candlelight illuminated the side of the young prince’s face. It was only then that he noticed how exquisitely delicate the young prince looked. His large almond eyes were filled with unshed tears, giving him a pitiable appearance.

Looking at the young prince’s exhausted and pale face, he felt an indescribable sense of pity. However, he wasn’t very articulate, so he stood there silently.

It wasn’t until the Fifth Prince finally snapped out of his daze that his voice quivered, “General… my brothers are gone, the Emperor is gone too, so… whose throne is this?”

He seemed to understand the fear in the young prince’s words and replied softly, “Naturally, it belongs to Your Highness.”

The Fifth Prince bit his colorless lips and looked at him timidly. “General… since my brothers are all gone, and my father as well, would you… help me?”

The vulnerability in that glance seemed to melt his heart. He quickly dropped to one knee. “I shall be at Your Highness’s side, even if it means braving fire and water, and facing death without hesitation.”

A delicate hand gently rested on his shoulder and then moved to his head. The young prince’s voice, still carrying traces of youth, said, “They’re all gone, so I don’t want you to die, General. I want you to stay with me.”

The Fifth Prince’s voice was soft, but it weighed heavily on him, causing a shiver down his spine, then making him stand tall.

He lowered his head deeply, “I shall… obey.”

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