Volume One Chapter Fifty-Seven: Thunderous Methods

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Thunderous Means

The astonishment of the nightshades was only natural. As the elite guards of each minor Celestial King, their foremost duty was unwavering loyalty to the one they protected and his kin.

Nightshades were a peculiar class of sentient beings, said to be born alongside the rakshasas from the foot of the Great Brahma. Their shared origin bred mutual antagonism: nightshades drew close to humanity, while rakshasas shunned it, descending into hell and aligning themselves with Yama, Lord of the Underworld.

Among the nightshades were those robust and handsome, as well as some akin to dwarfs. Naturally bold and nimble, masters of combat, they were favored as security by the heavens—especially the celestial realms of desire.

Over time, the nightshades' innate aptitude for guardianship became a celebrated profession, inevitably commercialized. Much like earth's security firms: I offer protection, you pay me.

Of course, on Mount Meru, this industry was quietly controlled by the Lord Indra. According to the sacred codes, Indra had the authority to determine and allocate the number of guards for each minor Celestial King. Should one of the thirty-two minor kings or any wealthy noble wish for extra protection, they would contact Indra’s agents, who would negotiate terms—numbers, price, strength, duration.

Everyone in the heavens knew Indra’s agent was an organization based in the realm of the Four Heavenly Kings, under the command of the Northern King of Abundance, headquartered in Gabapati City, publicly known as the Nightshade Nation’s Celestial Liaison Office.

Yet who didn't realize this liaison was really a joint venture between Indra and the Nightshade Nation’s elite—a secret export hub for nightshade guards?

Though the realm of the Four Heavenly Kings was the lowest of the Thirty-three Heavens, everyone knew the Four Kings were Indra’s lackeys. Even the Sun and Moon Princes, who circled Mount Meru at its waist, would lavish praise at the slightest whim of Indra.

Despite universal awareness that the Nightshade Liaison Office was a lucrative tool for Indra, the Hammurabi Code contained no clause forbidding officials and their families from engaging in business. Besides, who ever saw Indra’s relatives actually drawing a salary there?

Silent shares! Shadow stakes!

Did Indra think the heavens were fools?

The heavens were only feigning ignorance. No one cared how much he earned, so long as he provided quality security. As someone once said, every family has its skeletons in the closet.

Thus, an unshakable status quo was established: every guard detail had likely been infiltrated with spies and informers—everyone knew the possibility was high, and probably every provider had such plants.

But what could anyone do? Who would admit it? Accusations required evidence; careless words could spark commercial disputes or diplomatic incidents.

In essence, for any power on Mount Meru able to afford nightshade guards, there were no secrets from Indra.

Who did he disgust? But so long as you didn’t oppose the Lord of Heaven, nor plot against him, what did it matter if you seized men, dominated women, indulged in extravagance, sold offices or titles? No big deal.

Thus, before leaving Mount Meru, Tu Zhe had one task: purge the spies, purify his ranks, invigorate their spirits, and strengthen their power, so he could depart in peace, free of worry.

The Ming Dynasty had its Eastern and Western Factories and Embroidered Guards; the Empire had... ahem, certain departments. Such schemes were trivial for Tu Zhe, the butcher-emperor, well-read in history and seasoned in human affairs.

So he announced, "Spies, step forward yourselves—I won’t drag you out."

Stepping forward was a matter of attitude; being dragged out was a matter of allegiance.

The consequences... well, they were clear.

The nightshades looked at each other, unsure what to do.

Suddenly, Shudra stood up, thumped his chest with a massive fist, sounding like rolling hills, and shouted, "Listen up, folks! The little emperor is our benefactor. Think about it—who among us nightshades hasn’t been worked like a dog?"

The dog yelped, "Don’t insult dogs—"

Shudra glanced apologetically at the dog and continued, "We nightshades are sentient beings. We know who treats us well and who doesn't—we’re no fools.

The little emperor gave us sacred imperial Brahma crystals for cultivation, raising us all to incredible heights. Search your conscience: even as a spy, you gained benefits, right? But did your gains ever let you reach Srotapanna or Anagami? Without the emperor’s Brahma crystals, would your master ever give you such treasures?

Now, step forward and everything can be discussed. If you’re exposed or your soul is searched out—well, you’ll be dust and ashes."

Immediately, three nightshades stepped forth, kneeling and declaring, "Little emperor, great leader, we were spies—still are, for Indra and Huluzhina."

Shudra laughed heartily, "That's the way! The little emperor treats us as brothers; we can’t be... uh, less than nightshades, right?"

Tu Zhe smiled and told the spies to rise, "You're still brothers, nothing more to say. In future, whatever news you pass on will be false—if it doesn’t harm him, it’ll at least disgust him!"

Shudra turned to the crowd and shouted, "Any more? Opportunities are for the living, not the dead."

The nightshades puffed their chests and bellies, boldly meeting their leader’s gaze.

Tu Zhe moved his hand and a royal Brahma crystal flashed seven-colored light, swirling with Brahma energy. He looked calmly at the nightshades:

"This is the last chance for spies to step forward. This superior imperial Brahma crystal will be yours..."

The nightshades’ eyes bulged, Adam’s apples bobbing, faces stupefied.

This was a royal-grade Brahma crystal, containing the power of thirty minor worlds—a treasure even the Nightshade Nation’s king might not possess.

But the problem was—they weren’t spies!

At that moment, a nightshade who had been upright moments before knelt and declared, "Little emperor, I am a spy..."

Tu Zhe, smiling, walked over and crouched beside him, "Are you really a spy? Why didn’t you step forward earlier?"

The nightshade sweated profusely, voice trembling, "I... I hesitated a bit, I deserve death..."

Tu Zhe laughed, "That’s nonsense. There aren’t so many reasons to deserve death. If there were, only two matter."

He stood, his face cold and resolute:

"This nightshade deserves death for two reasons: first, failing decisively in matters of principle; second, being too greedy."

He looked at the ashen-faced nightshade, "Are you sure you deserve this imperial Brahma crystal?"

The nightshade kowtowed fiercely, unable to speak.

A ray of light flashed from Tu Zhe’s brow and shot into the nightshade’s mind. The nightshade screamed, his consciousness shattered—dead.

The nightshades looked at Tu Zhe, hearts filled with awe.

This little emperor was compassionate and righteous, yet ruthless and decisive—a man destined for greatness. From now on, they must be careful with their words and deeds.