Chapter Ninety: The Spread of Misinformation

Mingtian was unfamiliar with history, but he knew that long ago—during eras like the Southern and Northern Dynasties, which to modern people seemed as distant as prehistoric times—people’s surnames were often quite unusual.

“Deyi Ao”—that name was pretty impressive. Mingtian had never encountered the surname De before. In fact, surnames like Zhao in Zhaoyu, An in Anluo, or Yin in Yanchan were also rare in modern times, so having the surname De was not surprising.

“I’ve long heard that Lord Junma carries an imposing presence and an extraordinary appearance. Seeing you today, you truly live up to your reputation,” Deyi Ao said, cupping his hands in a polite gesture.

Hmm, these days, there were no newspapers or reporters’ grandmothers yet. The poison that killed the emperor hadn’t even reached Yangzhou’s news. What kind of “long heard of you” was this?

Mingtian forced a dry laugh and chuckled a few times without responding much.

There was no ill intent; it was just that men instinctively rejected outstanding men of the same sex. Mingtian didn’t like Deyi Ao.

Because he was ridiculously handsome… Even though he was a man with a disdainful expression, he was absurdly attractive!

Why was it that such a disdainful man could be so handsome?

After chatting briefly with Deyi Ao, Mingtian gained some understanding of this so-called resistance organization.

Yangzhou was controlled by the Provincial Governor, Xiao Yaoguang.

During Emperor Qi Ming’s illness, Xiao Yaoguang left for Jiankang to seize control of the palace, but secretly, he harbored sinister intentions and continuously recruited troops.

To gather forces, Xiao Yaoguang not only withheld taxes but also levied extra ones unauthorized. Although Yangzhou appeared peaceful on the surface, its people were already suffering.

Moreover, Yangzhou, located southwest of Jiankang and along the riverbank, boasted fertile and rich land, making it the core of Qi’s commerce and agriculture.

If Shouyang was Qi’s most crucial external military line, then Yangzhou was its strategic logistical base.

Like a parasite, Xiao Yaoguang absorbed Qi’s resources, rapidly expanding his power to unimaginable proportions.

“Xiao Yaoguang’s tyranny is one thing; harsh taxes still allow people to scrape by. His forces can’t yet rival Qi’s central authority. But recently, a new power has entered Yangzhou, forcing us to resist!” Deyi Ao sighed and revealed a name that shocked Mingtian.

“That organization is called the Chaos Rippers!”

“Chaos Rippers?” Mingtian paused, recalling the deadly twin assassins he had eliminated the previous night.

“Lord Junma, do you know the Chaos Rippers?” Deyi Ao asked, curious.

Mingtian thought for a moment and nodded. “I’ve dealt with them before. How’s their influence in Yangzhou? Are they strong?”

Deyi Ao nodded and continued.

According to intelligence from the resistance’s scouts, the Chaos Rippers were a large organization of over two thousand members. The Yangzhou branch was its third division, with about two hundred members.

Though small in number, they wielded strange weapons and had exceptional individual combat skills. It was no exaggeration to say this two-hundred-strong faction could match half of Xiao Yaoguang’s forces.

Currently, Yangzhou was a tripartite stalemate among Xiao Yaoguang, the Chaos Rippers, and the resistance. Deyi Ao’s group was the weakest, numbering about four hundred, many of whom were elderly, weak, or ill.

“Xiao Yaoguang’s forces are the largest and most ambitious. If he hadn’t gone to Jiankang, we’d likely be his first target.”

At this, a trace of pleading flickered in Deyi Ao’s eyes.

“Lord Junma, please help us! We can’t let them continue trampling over Yangzhou’s people.”

Mingtian inwardly cursed himself for being a fool to come here.

I came seeking help, not to save the people from disaster. I’m barely holding myself together—how could I help? No money, no strength. Should I become a prostitute to earn military funds for you?

“Even if you say that, I don’t have the ability to help you much,” Mingtian said, trying to be as polite as possible.

But Deyi Ao shook his head and smiled for some reason. “No, no, Lord Junma, you’re too modest. I heard from the dozen or so brothers I returned with that you single-handedly stormed the palace, fought through seven times, rescued the princess, and killed the dog emperor Xiao Baojuan. Such bravery is unmatched in the world.”

Seven… seven times? What nonsense is this?

A bad feeling rose.

Mingtian glanced sideways and saw a burly man nearby—one of the seventeen warriors who had accompanied Zhaoyu that day.

Noticing Mingtian looking at him, the man quickly turned away, avoiding eye contact.

Alright, now I roughly understand what’s going on.

With a twitch in his cheek, Mingtian nervously asked, “Um… just tell me, how did your men say that I rescued the princess?”

Deyi Ao thought for a moment and recounted an exaggerated, fantastical version of Mingtian’s palace raid.

The story he heard went something like this:

That day, Mingtian wore crimson-golden armor, wielding a trident with two blades, mounted on a crimson-blooded tiger, looking formidable enough to make even a passing wildcat lose control.

He stood at Jiankang’s city gate, shouting, “Dog Emperor! Hand over the princess!”

Xiao Baojuan flew into a rage and dispatched twenty thousand soldiers.

Yet Mingtian, unafraid of the overwhelming army like a surging river, charged forward alone, matching twenty thousand troops single-handedly.

The battle was earth-shattering, with Qi’s guards crying out in terror, utterly defeated, brains splattered, blood flowing like a river, even pregnant women nearby miscarrying from fright.

The invincible Mingtian fought from Jiankang’s east gate all the way to Penglai West Street, then from there to the southern city courtyard, battling for seven days and seven nights as if possessed by a war god, turning the twenty thousand soldiers into minced meat.

In the end, Mingtian didn’t even catch his breath, and Xiao Baojuan, terrified, fled in panic.

Finally, Mingtian hurled his trident, spanning ten miles, and skewered Xiao Baojuan’s dog head.

“Stop! Stop! What kind of nonsense is this?!” Mingtian couldn’t bear it any longer.

Not just Mingtian, but Zhaoyu, Yanchan, and Anluo behind him all gaped with mouths and eyes wide open.

What is this? I’m not some Spartan warrior, fighting for seven days straight? Why not say I fought from the womb until age eighty?

I don’t even know what a trident with two blades looks like, and throwing it ten miles? War movies only show carrots piercing bunkers, and you say I skewered someone’s head? Am I some kind of human Gauss rifle or a railgun?

How can ancient people’s imagination be wilder than modern ones? This is so far-fetched it’s unbearable. I’m just an ordinary person, how did you turn me into some peerless demon?

Mingtian sighed and decided to lay out the truth completely.

No, this must be clarified. If this story spreads, it’ll only become a bigger joke.

Today they say I fought seven days straight; tomorrow they might claim I wielded a forty-kilometer-long blade splitting Jiankang in two.

After half an hour, starting from Nananling Commandery and recounting up to the recent elimination of five Kumo tribe members, Mingtian told Deyi Ao the whole truth in detail.

Deyi Ao listened and toned down his admiration, even lowering his head in disappointment.

“Brother,” Mingtian said sympathetically, patting his shoulder, “I know it’s hard for you to accept, but… I’m really not a superhero. Ip Man could fight ten men, but who can fight twenty thousand? Even on drugs, people don’t hallucinate that much.”

“Ip Man… Who’s that?”

“Uh… don’t mind the details.”

After pondering a while, Deyi Ao sighed and shook his head helplessly.

“Alas, it seems divine weapons won’t descend from the heavens. But since Prince Wang captured Jiankang, Xiao Yaoguang probably won’t live much longer.”

Hey, man, don’t tell me you actually believed the bull they were blowing?

“Report!”

At that moment, a scout rushed in, interrupting Mingtian and Deyi Ao’s conversation.

“What is it?” Deyi Ao asked.

The scout saluted. “Frontline scouts report: Xiao Yaoguang has returned to Yangzhou!”

“What?!” Before Deyi Ao could react in shock, Mingtian felt a pang of anxiety.

If Wang Jingze was besieging the city, he wouldn’t spare Xiao Yaoguang. Logically, after taking the throne, Wang Jingze wouldn’t let Xiao Yaoguang live.

How is he alive? And returning to Yangzhou?!

…………………………

Another update will come around four or five in the afternoon.

The Fu Lu Shou Cai shaomai has been completed in the group. Next, I plan to make Three-Egg Shaomai, inspired by Little Master Chef. I won’t include this recipe in the book, but I’ll show it in the group. As for when… I don’t know yet, but it’ll be soon.

The group number is in the profile.