Chapter 91 The Powerful Eunuch

Chapter 91: The Influential Eunuch

After several months, System 66 once again stepped into the Administrative Bureau’s hall.

The tiny system whimpered, refusing to look at the screen.

—Even without looking, he knew Bai Yu’s score would be abysmal.

Dragging out what should have been a swift offline process into several years, cuddling and pampering the kitten, with the only "abuse" being stitches and medicine—bewitching the duke into confusion, eagerly rushing to become his "wife." If the score could still be high, the grading system must be broken.

But 66 had to admit, he couldn’t bring himself to punish Bai Yu either. When Bai Yu approached the kitten with a needle, his cold expression nearly stopped 66’s digital heart.

The Mainframe gazed at him gently. "Alright, 66, this is the third time you’ve scraped by."

66: "QAQ"

His spirits low, he floated dejectedly through the hall, looking as if he might burst into tears any second. "I’m sorry, Lord Mainframe, I’ve disappointed you."

The Mainframe sighed softly and comforted him. "It’s not entirely your fault."

"Bai Yu was my choice. Not thoroughly reviewing his records was my oversight. This novel was locked, making the full plot inaccessible. I shouldn’t have assigned it to a new system but rather to one with more experience."

66: "QAQ"

Though the Mainframe was comforting him, he only felt like crying harder.

Forcing back his sorrow, 66 steeled himself. "Lord Mainframe, assign me the next task! I’ll do it well."

"Mm." The Mainframe nodded. Rivers of data scrolled across the screen as he carefully selected a task for the dejected little system. "How about this one? It’s a novel about an NPC who is reborn. The difficulty is very low—a light-duty assignment. And your host? He’s the NPC himself."

When a system needed rest but didn’t want to idle, they could choose a leisurely, low-effort light-duty assignment—no complex operations or high skill required, just relaxation.

Such assignments weren’t usually given to new systems but to weary veterans. However, the Mainframe judged that 66 desperately needed a confidence boost, so he deliberately picked something simple.

66’s dim screen brightened slightly as he looked at the Mainframe expectantly. "The NPC himself?"

"Yes. At the very start of the plot, this NPC is reborn. In his past life, he had grievances with the protagonist and burns with hatred—enough to wish to eat his flesh and gnaw his bones. All you need to do is provide proper guidance, ensuring he hits the key plot points, and he’ll complete the mission smoothly."

The previous failures all boiled down to the hosts’ excessive fondness for the protagonists—like Bai Yu’s natural affection for the kitten, making it impossible to abuse him. But if the host already despised the protagonist? That was a different story.

66’s screen sparkled with little stars. "Who is it?"

The Mainframe answered slowly, "The fourth emperor of Da Qian, Xiao Shao."

"He loathes the novel’s male lead. He’ll complete the task properly."

*

Winter of the third year of Yongning.

Xiao Shao dismounted his horse, bypassing the weather-beaten gray side gate, and stepped into Fu You Temple.

Fu You Temple, though named "Blessed Shelter," was a prison for the condemned. Its gates were usually locked tight. Only when Xiao Shao arrived did a monk hurry forward to unlock them.

A light snow had fallen that day, half-melted and trampled under black boots into blackened sludge.

The head eunuch, Fu Dehai, hastily raised an umbrella over Xiao Shao’s head, fawning with a smile. "The path is cold and slippery, Your Majesty. This place is remote—the servants haven’t had time to clear the snow. Please tread carefully."

The temple was designed in the style of a Jiangnan garden—white walls, dark tiles, winding, secluded paths. A few plum branches graced the corners. Xiao Shao strode down the covered walkway, heading straight for a hidden courtyard. He pushed open the door, its aged wood creaking, dislodging a shower of snow.

Though the world outside was frozen, this room was even colder. Standing inside for just a moment sent chills through one's bones. A lone lamp flickered inside. In the corner sat a low bed, covered by a thin, damp stone-blue quilt that offered scant protection from the cold. A closer look revealed a strand of blue-black hair spilling from beneath the covers, tied loosely with a matching ribbon.

At first glance, it was actually a person.

And a beautiful one at that.

Withered and skeletal, with wrists thinner than umbrella spokes—too fragile to endure even the gentlest touch, a dying beauty with mere days remaining.

Hearing the noise, the man lifted his eyes. His eyes were beautifully shaped, slightly downturned at the corners, naturally lending a faint, mocking curve, with a teardrop mole at the outer corner. Yet his eyes were veiled in white—he was blind.

But this blind man turned unerringly toward Xiao Shao’s voice, struggling to prop himself up into a half-kneeling position before smiling. The teardrop mole lifted slightly with his movement, like a crane taking flight, as if on the verge of weeping.

"In the dead of winter, why has Your Majesty left the palace to come here?"

Xiao Shao sat down at the only low table in the room and let out a cold laugh. "To see how you die, of course."

He studied the man on the bed with amusement. "Supervisor Qi, once the terror of the court—did you ever imagine you’d end up dying here?"

Xiao Shao’s features were strikingly handsome, bold and intense, the kind most adored by noblewomen in the capital. But now, with his brows heavily furrowed, he exuded the weight of the throne.

For a moment, the room was so silent one could hear a pin drop. Fu Dehai and the assembled eunuchs and maids kept their heads bowed, not daring to make a sound or move.

This remote temple in the northwest corner of the capital held none other than the former dynasty’s powerful eunuch—Qi Yan, the Supervisor who once bent the court to his will.

Qi Yan propped himself up, covering his mouth as he coughed twice before smiling. "Your Majesty’s safety is priceless. If you wished to see how I die, you could’ve had me carried into the palace and displayed before your hall. With the plague raging in the capital now, venturing into the snow for such a pitiful spectacle isn’t worth the risk."

His throat was hoarse from thirst, yet his tone was measured, almost eerily serene.

Xiao Shao frowned, displeasure rising in his chest, but he forced a smile. "Still cracking jokes, Supervisor Qi? It seems Fu You Temple is quite the pleasant place. A man like you belonged in the imperial dungeons, subjected to every torture, to make it a fitting end."

Qi Yan rested his head on his arm—this was a convict’s quarters, after all, with no pillow to speak of. His inky hair spilled onto the floor, unkempt, as he said lazily, "Then Your Majesty is too late. As I am now, unless Your Majesty fancies flogging the dead, I doubt there’s much entertainment to be had."

He wasn’t wrong.

Qi Yan was on the brink of death, his breath faint. Forget torture—the journey to the Ministry alone would finish him.

Xiao Shao: "What a pity. Qi Yan, do you know what I regret most?"

He seized Qi Yan’s chin, forcing him to look up, his fingers leaving faint bruises on the pale skin.

Xiao Shao spat each word: "When selecting a personal eunuch back then, I should’ve taken you before my elder brother did. Made you serve by my side, tormenting you day after day—whips, canes, crushing every last bone. Let’s see if your tongue would still drip poison."

Qi Yan’s eyes were already struggling to stay open. He let Xiao Shao grip his chin and smiled. "Just whips and canes? Your Majesty, in that case, I beg you—when choosing a personal eunuch..."

Then he closed his eyes, his last words fading to a whisper: "Choose me..."

Xiao Shao’s fingers stilled.

He scowled. "What do you mean?"

No answer came.

Qi Yan’s eyes had shut for good.

As the blizzard raged outside, the warmth beneath his fingertips gradually turned cold.

In the winter of the third year of Yongning, the disgraced Qi Yan perished in the outskirts of the capital at Fu You Temple.

Before his death, he left a letter beneath the desk, asking that his corpse be cremated, its ashes scattered to the winds, over land and water.

Xiao Shao scanned the letter with a blank face for a moment before saying, "So be it."

Thus, the once-mighty eunuch who stood second only to the emperor was reduced to ashes, and his name was sealed away in the annals of history, becoming a forgotten relic of the past.

Sixteen years later, Xiao Shao toiled from dawn till dusk, diligently attending to state affairs. Yet in the depths of winter, his life came to an abrupt end in his prime years. On this day, Xiao Shao had a rare nightmare—he dreamed of a teardrop mole on pale skin, like a single drop of ink bleeding on rice paper.

In the dream, he heard a strange melody.

"Abusive Protagonist NPC System loading—1%, 5%... 100%."

"Loading complete. System 66 at your service."

Xiao Shao: "?"

The voice exploded directly in his ears, as if someone were speaking inside his head.

Xiao Shao did not believe in ghosts or gods, but this voice had an unnatural cadence—completely flat in tone, interspersed with pauses and static, as if it were otherworldly.

Then, someone whispered in his ear:

"Do you wish to return to the past?"

"You have regrets left unfulfilled, longing to make amends?"

"Died suddenly—do you want to extend your life and live to 99?"

"Bind with System 66, complete system tasks, and reach the pinnacle of life... Oh wait, you're already at the pinnacle. My apologies."

System 66 wiped at imaginary sweat.

The emperor of Da Qian—that counted as the pinnacle, right?

"Host, please place your finger here to finalize the contract!"

Xiao Shao: "?"

Nearly all emperors pursued immortality with all their might. Though Xiao Shao paid little heed to superstitions, no one could resist the temptation of a second chance at life. Death was a terrible thing. After a moment's consideration, he raised his hand in the blinding void and pressed his finger to the bottom-right corner of the screen.

"Contract finalized. Leap commencing. Host, please prepare—3, 2, 1—"

An uncanny noise rang out, and swirling colors twisted and warped before his eyes—

Rebirth complete.

The emperor's eyes fluttered open, and he saw the bright spring willows of the imperial prince's residence.

The willow branches swayed gently outside his window. It was as if he had suddenly woken from an afternoon doze, his arm half-numb from being slept on.

Fu Dehai waited at the door.

He was a eunuch left behind by Xiao Shao's mother, later assigned to him—an old retainer who had accompanied the emperor all the way as he ascended to the throne.

Xiao Shao pressed a hand to his throbbing forehead. "What time is it now?"

Fu Dehai helped him into his outer robe, fastening the traveling cloak to ward off the early spring chill, before answering, "You slept for two hours. It's already the Hour of the Sheep (1-3 PM)."

As he spoke, he skillfully massaged Xiao Shao's numb arm. "The Imperial Household Department sent word—they've trained a newly trained batch of eunuchs and await your selection. Shall you go now, or have them wait?"

...

So it was this moment.

Xiao Shao raised an eyebrow, then swung his legs off the bed and shoved his feet into shoes. "Now." If he were a step too late, Qi Yan would be snatched up by someone else—and then he wouldn't get his chance to torment him.