Chapter 15 — TVF Chapter 15

The Love-Brained Empress (15) Inside the vast command tent, Qi Er found himself with nowhere to turn for help. With no other options left, he could only pin his hopes on the deputy commander—Marquis Antai.

Meanwhile, after three consecutive days of forced marching, the army had effectively moved from the northern regions into the Central Plains. Reaching the deep south would still take another three to five days.

The uncertainty, of course, was due to the weather.

The floods from several years ago hadn’t only destroyed multiple long-neglected southern dikes; they had also left the official roads around the army’s temporary encampments in miserable condition.

Of the fifty thousand troops the emperor had transferred from the Imperial Guards and the suburban capital garrison, all were combat soldiers. Among them were ten thousand light cavalrymen, each with two horses—meaning they also had to shoulder part of the grain transport duties.

Marquis Antai happened to have old acquaintances among the local “hosts.” His earlier departure from camp had been to discuss matters with them: gathering local laborers to help transport supplies… for pay, of course.

Duke Cheng’en had extorted a large sum of silver from Prince Jing and could now be considered flush with cash.

Why would Marquis Antai ever help Duke Cheng’en save money? He could promise whatever he liked now—if Duke Cheng’en later refused to pay, that would hand him a perfect excuse to stir trouble.

Once money was mentioned, those old acquaintances readily agreed.

Marquis Antai returned to camp in high spirits. Before he could figure out how to both boast and dig a pit for Duke Cheng’en, his trusted aides—who had been waiting for him—stopped him.

After hearing what had happened, Marquis Antai cursed loudly in front of them, “Stupid as deer and pigs!”

Even his own foolish eldest son could see that the Noble Consort was petty-minded. He never imagined that a woman who looked intelligent would be petty enough to sabotage major affairs—especially when Qi Langhuan was usually so skilled at seducing men!

Duke Cheng’en hadn’t even clashed head-on with the powerful feudal princes yet—why provoke him now? Back in the palace, Duke Cheng’en’s words had been vicious, yet hadn’t the emperor swallowed it all?!

As for the Qi family—no wonder they were declining. They couldn’t even control their own daughter! If they couldn’t manage that, who could they possibly manage?

Good thing I didn’t take the Qi family’s olive branch.

Cursing Qi Langhuan internally, Marquis Antai stepped into the central command tent. The moment he entered, he saw Duke Cheng’en seated high in the commander’s position. The other generals were arranged neatly on either side. Strategist Wu sat with a calm expression, his disregard for Qi Er blatant.

As for Supervisory Censor Qi Er, he was curled up in a corner. By Duke Cheng’en’s description, he was staring blankly into space, questioning his entire existence—so much so that he didn’t even react to Marquis Antai’s entrance.

Marquis Antai served the emperor; he couldn’t care less whether the Qi family lived or died.

Still, completely ignoring the situation wouldn’t do. He asked Duke Cheng’en, “What’s wrong with the Supervisory Censor?”

Qin Jingzhou replied with a half-smile, “Before leaving the capital, I already told the emperor and Grand Secretary Qi: if I die, I won’t care if floods drown the world. But if I’m alive—if I’m fighting on the front lines—and someone dares bully my daughter and my granddaughter in the rear, they’d better weigh the consequences.”

The surrounding generals nodded repeatedly. Duke Cheng’en might be overly fierce, but the logic was unassailable.

At this point, Marquis Antai couldn’t keep pretending ignorance. “So the Noble Consort couldn’t restrain herself again?”

Qin Jingzhou looked straight at him. “She used Zhuzhu to threaten me. Since she uses my family against me, I’ll naturally return the favor in kind.”

Marquis Antai turned to examine Qi Er, who was now staring at him with desperate hope. Combined with the details he’d heard from his aides, he could safely conclude that Duke Cheng’en had kicked Qi Er hard enough to crack a rib.

Qi Er would be suffering for a long time.

Still, Duke Cheng’en had acted with restraint. Zhuzhu had escaped unharmed, and like Strategist Wu, Marquis Antai had no intention of meddling. With Qi Er serving as a convenient target, there was no need for him to stick his neck out.

Since the current emperor’s ascension, the Qi family had been promoted while military officials were suppressed—clearly favoring civil over military power. Qi Er, now serving as imperial overseer, had made himself deeply unpopular among the generals. Even Marquis Antai, a veteran commander, felt uneasy about him.

Setting the Qi family aside for now, Marquis Antai sat down and reported the plan he had worked out with his old friends to Duke Cheng’en.

Qin Jingzhou saw through Marquis Antai’s little scheme at a glance.

The original owner had been impatient with mundane matters like money, leaving everything to Deputy Commander Marquis Antai—precisely because being too capable would have made Emperor Taizong wary of him.

Since Qin Jingzhou had already decided to tear things apart with the emperor, there was no need to maintain that old persona. “Have your old friends come to camp and sign contracts,” he said.

Marquis Antai froze.

Based on what the system had shown him—the strange halos surrounding his troublesome daughter, the emperor, and Qi Langhuan—combined with the original owner’s memories, Qin Jingzhou was increasingly convinced that Qi Langhuan possessed the ability to lower people’s intelligence over time.

His troublesome daughter, the emperor, and Marquis Antai’s eldest son weren’t particularly smart to begin with—but they shouldn’t have been this stupid.

Prince Jing, as the novel’s male lead, clearly had far stronger resistance. Otherwise, given Qi Langhuan’s character, there was no reason she would spare the man she truly loved—love, for her, meant absolute possession.

Recalling the list Prince Jing had secretly given him before he left the capital, Qin Jingzhou smiled faintly.

The emperor had promised Marquis Antai that once the “restless” princes were defeated, Marquis Antai would reveal a secret edict, kill Qin Jingzhou on the spot, and reap the rewards—taking over this battle-hardened army. Meanwhile, Prince Jing had privately given Qin Jingzhou two hundred thousand taels of silver and a large supply of grain, asking him to leave the capital quickly and, if possible, eliminate Marquis Antai.

How Marquis Antai had offended Prince Jing didn’t interest him. What did interest him was this: after Marquis Antai’s eldest son was “debuffed,” the condition seemed contagious—Marquis Antai himself had caught it. Qin Jingzhou smiled meaningfully. “The times have changed, Marquis.”

Marquis Antai felt a chill run through him.

That single sentence seemed to wake him up just enough. For the time being, he restrained himself. As for Qi Er—thanks to his cracked rib—he remained weak and spiritless for quite some time.

Half a month later, the army finally arrived in the south.

There were over a dozen princes scattered across the region, but only four truly had the resources to carve out independent domains. Even among those four, unity was lacking—two had allied, while the remaining two acted independently.

After speaking with local officials and commanders and consulting with his subordinates, Qin Jingzhou decided to start by crushing the softest target.

Of course, the army couldn’t attack a prince’s fief or residence outright. Instead, they first targeted the prince’s private troops—bandits occupying the mountains.

With the target chosen, Qin Jingzhou didn’t personally take the field. He wanted to see what these fifty thousand troops were truly capable of.

What he saw… broadened his horizons.

Of the fifty thousand combat soldiers under his command (excluding auxiliaries), those from the suburban garrison were mediocre at best. Still, as long as they were well-fed and paid on time, they trained diligently and maintained decent morale, following orders during battle.

The bandits’ three-thousand-man vanguard collapsed at first contact.

Bandits with three thousand cavalry—think about that. Seizing the initiative was expected, so Qin Jingzhou ordered the Imperial Guard cavalry to pursue alongside the suburban garrison troops.

The result? Two thousand cavalry from the Imperial Guards—mostly sons of the imperial clan and noble families—were routed instantly by the bandits’ heavy cavalry reinforcements. If not for a border-army disciplinary officer reacting swiftly and beheading a man as a warning, those two thousand would have scattered completely—with losses under five percent.

Qin Jingzhou remarked to the system, “I’m no longer surprised that in the original story, the emperor fled without hesitation the moment the enemy reached the capital.” The system replied, “The Imperial Guards are utterly rotten. In the original timeline, the border armies weren’t much better either—they hadn’t been fully paid in years.” The ones beheaded by that “decisive” disciplinary officer were all members of the imperial clan.

Now wounded and bloodied, the officer knelt before Qin Jingzhou, delivering a clear and orderly report.

Qin Jingzhou didn’t care which faction the man belonged to. What mattered was that witness testimony confirmed he had enforced discipline fairly, without wrongful killing. Qin Jingzhou waved his hand. “You did what you were supposed to do. Where is the fault?”

The officer looked moved and was about to speak when Marquis Antai stormed into the tent with several generals from the Imperial Guards. “Duke Cheng’en, this matter demands an explanation!”

In ancient times, deserters were unquestionably sentenced to death.

Using the imperial bloodlines of the deserters as leverage, Marquis Antai pressed the issue. He wasn’t truly seeking justice—he had seen how much silver Duke Cheng’en held and didn’t want him to die later while carrying hundreds of thousands of taels to the grave.

Qin Jingzhou looked at the still-kneeling officer, then at the righteous-looking Marquis Antai, and smiled again. Prince Jing’s intelligence really does stay online. This was classic “two peaches to kill three men.” Prince Jing’s generosity with silver and grain had been paving the way for this very moment.

Prince Jing wanted Marquis Antai gone—he was the last experienced general the emperor could manipulate. At the same time, Prince Jing wanted Duke Cheng’en to severely weaken the imperial clan’s strength; otherwise, even becoming regent would be unstable.

Though Qin Jingzhou knew Prince Jing had ulterior motives, he still intended to comply—because he, too, wanted Marquis Antai gone and the imperial clan appropriately weakened.

He wanted a clean solution. He had no desire to replace the emperor only to have southern princes start scheming again.

Thus, Qin Jingzhou slowly rose, picked up the curved saber from the table, and walked toward the disciplinary officer.

Marquis Antai frowned, while several young imperial clansmen behind him lit up with excitement.

Qin Jingzhou lowered his head and said to the officer, “Watch carefully.”

Then he turned and smashed Marquis Antai with the saber sheath.

Caught completely off guard—indeed, even if he had been prepared—Marquis Antai was sent flying, crashing hard to the ground.

At his age, the fall nearly knocked the breath from him. Before he could react, Duke Cheng’en stepped on his shoulder. The cold voice beside his ear sent chills through his entire body.

“I am the commander. You are the deputy. The last man who dared speak out of turn before me—grass is already half a man tall on his grave.”

The young men who had thought Duke Cheng’en would back down went weak at the knees, collapsing to the ground one after another.

Qin Jingzhou shook his head slightly. “No wonder you’re the type who runs even when your own side has the upper hand.”

He rewarded each of them with a strike from the saber sheath.

They flew backward, teeth spraying—several bouncing straight onto the young officer’s face.

Only then did Qin Jingzhou ask leisurely, “How much silver did Prince Jing promise you?”

The officer kowtowed once, conscience stirring, and answered honestly, “Ten thousand taels. Duke Cheng’en—even if you’re unmatched in valor, with four feudal princes out there, you’re doomed to never escape.”

Qin Jingzhou laughed again. “Am I really held in such low regard now?” He waved his hand. “Then I’ll put on a little show for you—taking a general’s head amid ten thousand troops.”

He gestured to his guards. “Take him away. Lock him up.”