Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 1

In the hall adorned with purple beams and golden pillars(Ziliang Hall), a dignified man sat at the top. He was He Zheng, the fifth prince of the He Dynasty and the most favored candidate for the throne in the eyes of the current emperor.

At the entrance of the hall, another man, dressed in a white winter robe, slowly walked forward.

A large incense burner in the center was filled with premium incense, and the rising wisps of smoke blurred the newcomer’s face, leaving only a vague yet distinguished silhouette.

He Zheng, seated in the high position, seemed indifferent, his gaze fixed on the documents before him. He played idly with a jade seal in his hand, his demeanor casual and languid.

After a long while, seeing that He Zheng indeed had no interest in him, the man in white finally couldn’t hold back and reluctantly said, “It’s been a long time.”

The man’s voice was clear, cold as the cracking of ice, and crisp as the clash of jade, carrying a faint warmth in its otherwise indifferent tone.

He Zheng slightly raised his eyes, his attitude neither cold nor warm. “So it’s you, Third Brother. What brings you here?”

He Lang, the one addressed as Third Brother, clenched the edge of his sleeve, the white jade in his hand warmed by the heat of his palm.

“Ah Zheng, I have something I wish to give you.” He Lang’s voice was soft, almost lost in the vastness of the hall, revealing his purpose for coming.

He Zheng seemed to hear his words only after a long while. He looked up slightly, his gaze drifting downwards, showing no joy but rather a hint of irritation, as if wondering why He Lang was giving him something again.

He Lang’s fingers twitched, and he spoke again, “This is the jade pendant our mother gave me before she passed.”

Jade pendants like these could be split into two pieces and were usually used as tokens of love between couples in their country. Especially when left by parents, they symbolized a lifelong bond. One piece for He Zheng, one for He Lang, it was his way of conveying his feelings to He Zheng.

He Zheng was already involved in the administration of state affairs, engrossed in reading a memorial and too preoccupied to pay much attention to He Lang. However, at the mention of the jade pendant, he frowned slightly, not even looking up as he replied flatly, “It’s unnecessary.”

A trace of disappointment flickered across He Lang’s eyes. In the past, He Zheng often refused his gifts, but this time was different. No matter what, He Lang wanted to give He Zheng his most treasured possession.

Seeing He Lang insist on giving it to him, He Zheng freed a hand from the memorial, pressed his brow, and with a hint of impatience, ordered a maid to step forward and accept the gift.

He Zheng held the half-piece of the jade pendant in his hand, examining it briefly. Its color was transparent and bright, warming in his palm, indeed a rare quality. But why give him something so intimate? He looked up at He Lang, who had been standing there for a long time, and asked the question on his mind.

“I thought you knew, Ah Zheng,” He Lang lowered his gaze slightly, his voice no longer as cold as usual, instead tinged with a rare awkwardness. A faint blush of shyness appeared on his face, like a solitary plum blossom in the vast, cold snow.

He Zheng curled his lips, his eyes remaining calm. “I know.”

Hearing this, He Lang frowned slightly, his voice pausing. He slowly lowered his gaze, unable to look at He Zheng again, his tone carrying a hint of bitterness: “Then why are you still getting close to the Prime Minister’s daughter…”

“I did it on purpose.” He Zheng played with the jade pendant in his hand for a moment before continuing, “To make you give up on those thoughts.”

He Lang’s face turned pale, his hand gripping his sleeve tightly, filled with helplessness. So, He Zheng had long known about his feelings, which went beyond brotherly affection. He didn’t ask He Zheng to reciprocate; he only wanted to quietly watch as He Zheng ascended the throne, even if it meant experiencing a silent and unrequited love.

But He Zheng insisted on getting close to another woman. Did this mean He Zheng wouldn’t even allow him the chance to watch from afar? Did his feelings truly disgust him that much?

He Zheng watched He Lang’s expression for a while, the warmth of the jade in his hand fading, leaving him feeling bored. He casually tossed the jade to a maid and instructed, “Store it in my palace’s treasury.”

Finally, he smiled faintly, “Elder Brother, I’ve accepted it. Are you satisfied now?”

He Lang lowered his eyes and forced a smile, though his heart felt as if it were trapped in an icy prison.

“Now that you’ve given me the gift, is there anything else?” He Zheng’s lips were still curved, but it was impossible to tell if he was truly smiling. To him, it was merely a courteous gesture between brothers.

He Lang held his sleeve tightly, thought for a moment, then shook his head.

He Zheng’s smile faded, as if he had suddenly put on a different mask. He lowered his head, picked up the memorial, and ordered, “Someone, escort the Third Prince back.”

He Lang stared blankly at He Zheng sitting in the high position, as if seeing him years later, seated on the dragon throne, holding immense power, resplendent in his royal robes, just like every other emperor of the He family—commanding the world, but cold and heartless.

He couldn’t help but smile bitterly. Ever since He Zheng was a young boy, he knew he would become like this in the future, yet he couldn’t resist trying to offer this lonely boy a bit of warmth, hoping to calm his eager and restless heart.

He wanted to tell the boy that under this vast sky, in this prosperous world, not everything he desired could be gained through power, and power wasn’t as beautiful as he imagined.

“Please, this way.” The maid’s gentle voice pulled him from his thoughts. He nodded stiffly, turned, and glanced at He Zheng one last time. Finally, he released the tight grip on his sleeve and left.

His thin figure walked alone across the expansive snowy field, the falling snow seeming harsher than in previous years, gradually swallowing his form until he became nothing more than a trace in the snow.

When He Lang returned to his courtyard, his outer robe was covered in ice crystals, stark white against the fabric. His long eyelashes were coated with a thin layer of frost, his lips pale, and his handsome face as cold as snow.

A maid dressed in simple clothing frowned as she quickly helped him inside, placing an old carved copper brazier in his arms. “Your Highness, in this freezing weather, only wearing a single winter robe will make you sick. Why didn’t you wear the cloak the Fifth Prince gave you?”

He Lang held the brazier, the cold in his palms gradually fading. As he removed his frost-covered outer robe, he replied softly, “I couldn’t bear to.”

The cloak was exquisitely made, and wearing it in this snowy weather would surely cause it to get wet, which wouldn’t be good.

The cloak was the only thing He Zheng left him, and even that was given at their father’s suggestion. He treated it as a treasure, and if it were damaged even slightly, he would be heartbroken.

The maid sighed. She understood her master’s feelings, but the Fifth Prince was clearly focused on the throne. Such feelings between brothers would only be a stain on his path to becoming emperor.

“Hua Chun, there’s no need to worry about me.” He Lang gently touched the intricately carved handle of the brazier. “How can I not worry?” Hua Chun said, her eyes welling with tears. The He family’s rules were well-known to everyone: to sit on the highest throne, brothers couldn’t avoid a fight to the death. Even if her master had no intention of competing for the throne, under the current rules set by the He Emperor, the Fifth Prince would never spare him.

The He Emperor’s rule was a cruel struggle for survival. All the princes, only the last one standing, would become the king.

Her master was weak, with no backing. His only mother, Consort Hui, wasn’t from a powerful family, and she had passed away long ago. Now, her master had no power to rely on, while the Fifth Prince was ruthless, with his eyes only on power. Her master would likely be the first to be forced to death.

If her master died, what would become of the few servants who had grown up with him in this courtyard?

The thought filled Hua Chun’s heart with sorrow.

He Lang responded with a pale smile. “What’s there to fear about death? It’s inevitable anyway…”

…

Early spring, full of vitality, flowers budding, and tender grass emerging from the ground. The snow on the flowering trees in front of the courtyard had melted, turning into a pool of spring water that seeped into the soil.

It should have been a time of bright spring scenery, but a massacre was quietly taking place.

In just a few hours, the original Crown Prince was accused of collaborating with a neighboring country, the Second Prince, due to drunkenness, set fire to the palace and was imprisoned by the furious Emperor He. As for the other princes who had no power to rely on, they were easily surrounded and killed by He Zheng’s troops.

In the end, only the Third Prince, He Lang, was left.

Even though he had always been mediocre and unremarkable, posing no threat, He Lang’s unusual feelings were an unpredictable obstacle for the soon-to-be ruler.

He Lang was already prepared. Without costing He Zheng a single soldier or causing him any trouble, he had long prepared a cup of poison. The weather had not yet warmed, and he sat alone in front of a pavilion, dressed in thin clothes, waiting for his death.

He Zheng was slightly incredulous that He Lang could so leisurely savor his drink.

But when that desolate figure, with a smile on his face, raised the cup, He Zheng felt that something was off but did not stop him from slowly draining the poisonous liquid.

“What are you doing?” He Zheng frowned, dissatisfied with the look of affection and reluctance in He Lang’s eyes.

He Lang’s insides churned, his head spun, and blood began to uncontrollably trickle from the corner of his mouth. He took a deep breath and collapsed to the ground, half-kneeling. “Turn away, don’t dirty your eyes.”

The words came out trembling, and He Zheng knew that he had willingly taken the poison, thinking his elder brother was too considerate, not making him lift a finger.

He turned around and quietly walked out of the pavilion, not wanting to see He Lang’s death, afraid it would stir emotions he had long since discarded. Moreover, compared to his other brothers, he did not particularly dislike him. After about the time it takes for half an incense stick to burn, someone walked up behind him, “Reporting to Your Highness! The Third Prince is dead.”

He Zheng’s eyelids twitched, but he did not show any emotion, and asked back, “Your Highness?”

The guard shivered, quickly knelt, and corrected himself, “Your Majesty!”

Finally receiving this title, He Zheng nodded, but couldn’t resist turning his head and glancing from afar. A pool of blood had spread wide, a shocking sight.

Overnight, he had donned the imperial robes, transforming from the Fifth Prince to the ruler of the He Dynasty.

On the day of his ascension, everyone looked at him with reverence, shouting in unison for his long life. He curled his lips, knowing that the throne he had coveted for ten years was finally his. He chuckled, and to others, it sounded like pride.

However, in the midst of the blood-boiling excitement, He Zheng felt as though his heart was gradually being hollowed out. He instinctively looked around, frantically searching among the officials—where was that gentle and accepting gaze?

**Author’s Note:**

Let me clarify to avoid any misunderstandings: this is a scum uke, an abused seme, a clean seme, and the seme will have strong possessiveness and a tendency to become a yandere, but also loves to sprinkle sweetness.

Please be patient and keep reading~ The author will diligently update~