The so-called "dragon chariot" was a carriage drawn by six fine horses, its body inlaid with gold, silver, and jade, and carved with dragon and phoenix motifs—radiating imperial grandeur and luxury.
Seated atop it was the legendary emperor, renowned throughout Eastern history.
As he passed by the two women, the First Emperor did not continue watching them.
In fact, he had only glanced at them for a few seconds before withdrawing his gaze, paying them no further attention.
This inevitably gave the impression that he hadn't noticed the sisters at all.
But no—he had definitely noticed them. He simply deemed them unimportant.
If they were ordinary people, that would be understandable. But they were Valkyries—watching this era across time and space—and yet received only that much attention?
Either he truly hadn't noticed them, which the sisters found impossible.
Or he was simply indifferent, not taking them seriously—which seemed plausible.
Or perhaps he believed himself powerful enough to give them only that level of attention, confident they posed no threat to him, not on the same level—neither in status nor strength.
Thus, the First Emperor did not regard them as any significant danger.
To him, only the generals and kings of the six vanquished states were worthy opponents.
No—his true adversaries were gods.
Brunhilde's pupils contracted. She sensed something strange about the black-armored guards protecting the First Emperor—their footsteps were unnaturally heavy.
If it were just the weight of their armor, that would be one thing. But clearly, it wasn't just that—their own body weight was substantial.
It gave her the impression that these black-armored soldiers weren't human.
Not human?
Brunhilde thought of Xiang Yu's case and her expression shifted.
Could this entire black-armored unit be like that?
How were they created in this era? It was too bizarre.
Were the Eastern gods interfering with the human world to such an extent?
Soon, the sisters followed alongside the procession, as most of the citizens of Xianyang also moved toward the city gates.
When they arrived at the gate and looked out at the vast grounds beyond, the sisters were momentarily stunned.
What should have been a spacious area was now occupied by a mighty and imposing army—the battle-hardened troops of the Qin Dynasty.
This force, which had shed blood on countless battlefields and annihilated nations, exuded a murderous aura that seemed to pierce the barriers of time and space, sending chills down the sisters' spines.
Was this grand scene a prelude to war?
No—it couldn't be. At this point in time, the First Emperor had already completed his unification. There was no one left to fight.
She checked the Akasha system—it confirmed the timeline was correct.
So this grand spectacle must be a military parade celebrating the founding of the empire.
And among the spectators were not only the long-time residents of Xianyang, but also merchants, retainers, and nobles from across the country.
Brunhilde also noticed a few wandering traders from distant lands not under the emperor's rule.
"Big sister!"
Lantigris had spotted something.
"Mhm."
Brunhilde nodded. She too had noticed some suspicious individuals mingling among the crowd.
Most likely, they were agents sent by the disgruntled nobles of the six defeated states.
Look at how tense they were—clearly nervous, afraid of being discovered, and seemingly preparing for something big.
Upon closer inspection, some appeared to be hiding something in their sleeves.
Suddenly, as the crowd surged, someone accidentally bumped into one of them, causing a glinting blade to peek out from his sleeve.
The man hastily pulled down his sleeve to cover it, relieved that no one nearby had noticed.
So—were these people planning to assassinate the First Emperor?
It would be a futile effort. Didn't they see the army stationed here?
Not to mention the black-armored guards who might be artificial beings—attacking would be like moths to a flame.
So their goal wasn't just assassination?
Assassinating the emperor might be part of the plan, but not the main objective. If the opportunity arose, they would certainly try.
Their true aim was to disrupt today's ceremony.
How? By inciting panic.
And how would they do that?
Simple—by slaughtering innocent spectators to spread fear.
Once panic spread, the massive crowd would lose reason and scatter chaotically, making it difficult for the emperor's soldiers to intervene and eliminate the perpetrators.
They wanted to humiliate the First Emperor in front of the entire nation.
This was the old nobles' revenge.
Chapter 045: Surrounded by the Living Dead?
Her gaze fell upon the densely packed, neatly arranged figures—each radiating a murderous aura.
These were the killing machines under the tyrant Ying Zheng.
Since he began his campaign against the six states, these troops had mercilessly taken countless lives.
Watching these emotionless killing machines, some of the infiltrators hidden among the crowd couldn't help but swallow nervously.
If chaos truly broke out, could they escape unscathed?
There was a chilling thought—if they initiated a riot or assassination, these ruthless troops might ignore the civilians and charge straight in.
Better to kill a thousand innocents than let one enemy escape.
The more they thought about it, the more likely it seemed that the tyrant would give such an order.
So—was it right to drag innocent civilians into a bloodbath?
No—they weren't wrong.
Most of the people here were Qin citizens, not from the six states. Their deaths didn't concern them.
Besides, where did Qin's soldiers come from? Weren't they conscripted from Qin's populace?
Why did Qin's soldiers have such abundant resources for war? Wasn't it thanks to the support of Qin's people?
Without the resources provided by Qin's citizens, how could its soldiers fight the six states?
Therefore, the true executioners who destroyed the six states were all of Qin—from the king to the common folk.
So, if today's riot dragged these people into the bloodshed, they weren't innocent—they deserved it.
With this thought, those who had wavered found renewed resolve.
Hmm?
He suddenly noticed some people who didn't seem to be Qin citizens—perhaps from the six states.
Were they also here with the same goal, ready to assist in attacking the tyrant?
Upon closer inspection, they seemed like ordinary civilians.
If chaos broke out, these uninvolved people would surely be caught up in it.
Given Qin's brutal methods, these non-Qin citizens might be slaughtered even more mercilessly.
Was it right to implicate the innocent?
No—those people deserved to die too.
As long as they still held loyalty to the six states, as long as they remembered their national hatred and family grief, they should join the cause.
Not do business here, not seek a livelihood here, not abandon their past identity to join Qin.
If they did, then their deaths were deserved—they were traitors, cowards.
His gaze returned to a figure—a man in luxurious black robes who had just stepped down from the chariot and was walking toward the reviewing platform.
This tyrant had destroyed the six states, shattered countless families, and plunged countless lives into hell.
If not for this tyrant's war, he wouldn't have been separated from his wife and forced into the army.
When he survived the battlefield and returned home, his homeland was in ruins.
The house they once lived in was now a pile of charred rubble.
What broke him most was finding two corpses—a large and a small one—in the wreckage.
Who else could they be? His wife and child.
The one responsible for all this was the tyrant who walked atop a mountain of corpses.
Overwhelmed by rage and hatred, he nearly lunged forward to kill the tyrant.
Then, a strategist's voice echoed in his mind, urging him to stay calm.
At this distance, even if he charged, he wouldn't reach the tyrant—it would only ruin the plan.
Hold on—the time wasn't right.
Suddenly, his body stiffened. People around him were staring.
Had he been exposed?
But those who looked at him didn't linger—they turned their gaze back to the tyrant, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Perhaps his fury had made his emotions too obvious, drawing attention.
Yet, for some reason, he felt a chilling unease.
He sensed something off about the surrounding spectators—something eerie.
Could these "civilians" actually be disguised soldiers?
The thought made his heart race. It wasn't impossible.
If they launched the riot, they might be counterattacked by these fake civilians.
He grew anxious—he had to warn his comrades.
But today's operatives were scattered widely. He couldn't reach them all—only those nearby.
And even then, he didn't know who was closest.
It wasn't that he had no comrades—just that they were spread out to avoid betrayal and mass arrests.
The ones he knew were fellow agents from Yan.
As for operatives from other states, he didn't know them—again, to avoid exposure.
He could only hope others had thought of this too, and were watching the surrounding "civilians" carefully to determine if they were truly ordinary people or disguised soldiers.
His gaze returned to the tyrant, now standing on the platform. As he raised his hand slightly, the entire venue fell silent.
If it were just the army, that would be one thing—but even the civilian spectators responded in perfect unison. It was unnerving.
The tyrant on the platform swept his gaze across the crowd.
When his