Reborn as the Crown Prince's Little Ancestor - Chapter 3

“It’s only fifty years! You’re a cultivator, Your Highness. How can you care so much about your lifespan? How vulgar!

“Saving the God of War means saving the people of Qi!”

Chu Yao’s mouth overflowed with virtue. Her final appeal visibly shook the prince. Before he could agree, I charged across the hall and knocked the overbearing woman aside.

“If it’s only fifty years, give him your own!”

“Where did this child come from?”

A guard hurried over. “Your Highness, this is Lady Li Tang, the duke’s daughter.”

“Never mind who I am!” I planted myself in front of the prince, hands on my hips. “You’re a cultivator too, Divine Maiden. Fifty years of your life could save him just as well. Why don’t you give him yours?”

“I’m Qi’s Divine Maiden! The people need me!” she argued.

“And he’s Qi’s future emperor! The people can’t do without a Divine Maiden, but they can do without their crown prince?

“If I remember correctly, you had five rivals when they chose the Divine Maiden!

“You only won because of your birth signs, Chu Yao. If the imperial family wants to train another one, it won’t be hard!

“There are any number of replacements for you. There’s only one crown prince!”

To them, I was just a child, yet every word struck home. Caught off guard, Chu Yao finally shut up.

I had spoken harshly. The prince laid a hand on my shoulder.

“Shouldn’t you be studying with the princess in Changle Palace? What are you doing here?”

The princess and I were good friends. He doted on his little sister, so he knew me too.

I turned to scold him, only to find him tall and straight before me. In this brat’s body, I could barely reach his chest even if I jumped. Helpless, I held up both arms.

“Pick me up.”

“What?”

“Pick. Me. Up!”

I was the princess’s age. To him, I was much the same as his own little sister.

And Xiao Yundu had an excellent temper. He really did pick me up.

Only in his arms were we at eye level. He immediately noticed the blood-red mole between my brows.

“That mole looks very familiar.”

Of course it did. You put it there yourself, just before you died in our last life.

I could see his handsome face clearly now. Xiao Yundu was only nineteen, dressed in black, with ink-dark hair. He stood as graceful and pure as jade, his bearing noble and untouched by the world’s dust.

I remembered his white hair and ruined, exhausted face in our previous life. My nose stung. I opened my hand and slapped him squarely across the right cheek.

A child had little strength, but it was a perfectly executed slap.

Everyone in the hall froze. Even the prince stared.

“You… dare strike me?”

“You’re being a fool, Your Highness. I’m slapping some sense into you!”

My small hands cupped his face. “Tell me. You may be gifted, and you may have formed an immortal bone, but have you ascended?”

He looked regretful. “My cultivation and merit are nowhere near what ascension requires. Apart from a little spiritual power, I’m no different from an ordinary mortal.”

“Good. At least you know!” I caught his ear and demanded, “Mortals live little more than a hundred years at best. If you give away fifty, have you thought how many you’ll have left?

“What if losing those fifty years kills you?

“Do you want your parents to bury their own child? Do you want to destroy every hope the people of Qi have? All to save this so-called God of War?”

I pointed past Chu Yao at the half-dead man on the bed.

“Do you know how many homes the heavenly fire from his fall destroyed? How many innocent people it caught?

“Qi may worship him, but which victory in all these years wasn’t won by you and your soldiers risking your lives?

“At Xuancheng, we had every advantage, then a blizzard killed countless soldiers. If Mingjue really protected the people, why did he let that happen?

“And every flood and drought—weren’t you the one who dealt with them? What did that god on his lofty altar ever do? When has he shown himself?”

Three hundred years ago, Qi’s founding ruler, Emperor Yuande, had happened to see Mingjue slay a demon in the snowy wilds and ascend to godhood.

A mortal who saw a real god immediately found something to worship.

Yuande had ordered everyone in Qi to worship Mingjue as their chief deity.

Three hundred years later, that rule still stood. Everyone followed the God of War, but no one dared ask whether he had ever actually protected them.

I pointed at Mingjue, whom heavenly lightning had left near death.

“And if he fell out of Heaven, who knows what terrible crime he committed to deserve punishment? Aren’t you afraid that saving him will defy the Heavenly Dao and bring disaster on you?”

My barrage left the prince speechless.

“You—where does a child learn all this?”

He had no idea that inside this little body was the soul of a high immortal who had cultivated for a thousand years and come back for him alone.

“Your Highness, don’t listen to this brat!”

Chu Yao recovered and hurried to argue. “Without the God of War, Qi will have no divine protection! And you’re blessed, Your Highness. You’ll surely live several hundred years. Fifty years is nothing!”

“How dare you, witch! You dare lead my son astray?”

Before she had finished, Empress Zhao stormed into the hall. The first thing I had done upon returning was tell her that Chu Yao meant to take fifty years of her son’s life to save an outsider.

Last time, the prince had been so eager to save someone that he gave up his fifty years in secret. By the time his parents discovered the truth, he could no longer hide his white hair. Their remorse came too late.

The empress came blazing with a mother’s fury. Just as I had said, a half-dead “God of War” lay behind Chu Yao.

She raised her hand and slapped Chu Yao’s face sideways before everyone.

“You bitch! How many lives do you have, to dare use your poisonous lies to murder my son?”