Chapter 62
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: Do the Three Brothers Dream of the Peach Blossom Paradise? (4)
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Originally, everything is hardest at the beginning, which is why the proverb "the beginning is half the battle" exists.
But he was no longer a rookie.
How many protagonists had Kim Yul slaughtered so far?
Heracles.
Caesar.
Yi Sun-sin.
Main characters alone numbered three already.
If you included supporting roles like Achilles, Hector, Antonius...
He had bestowed countless deaths.
It wouldn't be wrong to call him a novelist of death, one who wrote novels just to depict characters' demise.
And so.
The very next day, before the lingering impact of Guan Yu's death had even faded.
The serialization featured the evil Dong Wu's Jerry—the dark mage Sun Quan—infusing a powerful curse into Guan Yu's head before tossing it to Cao Cao.
"The realm is not yet stable, so do not wear mourning garb. My ministers, pay no mind to my death and attend to your duties. And do not build any lavish tomb for me."
Cao Cao himself, whose poor health had been foreshadowed little by little over nearly 20 chapters, bit the dust.
In the novel, it was his chronic illness worsening.
Added to that was his disillusionment from the death of Guan Yu—someone he both loved and hated throughout his life, his lifesaver, and the epitome of an ideal general.
But what did canon know?
"Cao Cao's dead... So Liu Bei was the true protagonist of these two heroes after all."
"He was the villain, but no antagonist ever left such a strong impression. Guess I need to reread the Cao Cao arc today."
"At this point... Sun Quan and Wu must be the final villain in the author's mind, right?"
"Zhuge Liang should've wiped them all out with that Southeast Hurricane back then...!"
Both Guan Yu's death and Cao Cao's.
Readers couldn't shake the reasonable suspicion that Wu's schemes were behind them.
.
.
.
Even as readers' suspicions toward Wu blazed fiercely, Kim Yul's writing didn't stop.
Today, too, he headed to Novelpia's headquarters with his completed manuscript of death.
But.
"Huh? Gilford. What are you doing here?"
He looked slightly surprised to see the old editor's face instead of the usual friendly greeter.
"Author! Long time no see. You haven't been dropping by Truth Newspaper much either."
"Well, no serialization there anymore... Still, good to see you after so long."
After a brief catch-up.
"Where's Chloe?"
"Oh, the president's down with illness. So I'm filling in as acting president for now."
"Huh?"
Gilford explained Chloe's condition—anger sickness—in very roundabout terms, but Kim Yul caught on immediately.
"Uh... Hm."
A twinge of guilt stirred in Kim Yul's heart.
He tucked away the thought: I'll sweet-talk the Saintess later, ask if healing works on anger sickness, and visit together.
"Anyway, check the manuscript first."
"I've only seen it on Novelpia lately... Raw manuscript? I'm looking forward to it."
Gilford flipped open the pages.
The night wind in Fancheng was exceptionally cold.
White flags fluttered wildly throughout the camp, their flapping in the wind sounding like the wails of mourning for Guan Yu.
Zhang Fei knelt before the altar in the center of his tent.
Skilled with his hands by nature, he had personally carved Guan Yu's spirit tablet and placed it there.
"Brother..."
The tiger who once roared across the battlefield had grown gaunt, shedding only bloodstained tears.
Soon.
"General, we bring offerings."
His subordinates entered the tent.
Their expressions were as deferential as ever, but today they carried a meaningful chill laced with killing intent.
Ever since losing Jingzhou.
They had constantly guarded against Shu's growth, devising countless schemes to thwart it at critical moments.
And the subordinates.
Fan Jiang and Zhang Da.
They had been planted long ago by Grand Commander Lu Meng and Lu Xun, even before Liu Bei had entered Shu.
"Brother, this is the last cup from your foolish brother..."
Lost in grief, Zhang Fei unquestioningly placed their offerings on the altar and poured wine onto the spirit tablet.
Then he drank.
Having barely eaten for days, the harsh liquor burning down his throat felt like swallowing poison.
No.
It was poison.
"Kuhuk...!"
Zhang Fei clutched his chest and staggered, soon vomiting up dark red blood.
"G-General. Do not resent us too much. We, too, acted only for our lord."
Though they served different masters, Zhang Da murmured bitterly, unable to hide his respect for Zhang Fei's valor and wisdom.
....
....
Fan Jiang, Zhang Da.
And all the Wu spies who had slowly built their influence.
They swarmed him.
But they couldn't overcome a commander of ten thousand with martial prowess.
Only Zhang Fei's ragged breathing filled the tent.
However.
The poison had already seeped into his bones.
Not even a finger could twitch.
Even so.
Zhang Fei mustered all his strength to straighten his upper body.
And gazed once more at Guan Yu's spirit tablet.
As a result of upholding the incense Guan Yu had lit even amid bloody battle, ignoring his own body.
The intact spirit tablet stood before rising tendrils of fragrant smoke.
"Ha, haha..."
What an incompetent older brother.
And what an incompetent younger brother he was.
They had vowed to die together on the same day.
Yet both foolish brothers were departing this world before their brother.
But...
There was no real regret.
If his life could uproot the threat looming over Shu at its root, his brother would be that much safer.
So please.
"Complete the great undertaking..."
At the tip of Zhang Fei's nose.
A peach blossom fragrance lingered.
"Ah..."
The moment he read the final line.
Gilford let out an involuntary sigh.
Three chapters.
Just three chapters.
Yesterday, Guan Yu died.
Today, Cao Cao died.
And tomorrow, Zhang Fei would die.
All those deaths.
Were elevated into poignant narrative through intricate foreshadowing so masterful it made him wonder why he hadn't noticed before.
Of course, that was from an editor's perspective.
From a reader's—or rather, the publisher's—view, coldly speaking.
"We'd better not show this to the president, huh?"
"Probably."
The two men reached a silent agreement.
Fortunate for Kim Yul.
Except for a few loud superfans.
Readers weren't plunged into mass depression by the explosive deaths of Guan Yu, Cao Cao, and Zhang Fei.
Not yet.
Of course.
"Thou darker than twilight, redder than the flow of blood...!"
"Whoa! He's casting magic over there!"
"Block it!"
"Ulysses! I never took you for this!"
"Former Congressman Asterik, this is a problem...!"
"You honorless cur! Where are you hiding? Come out and take my glove!"
"It's gonna fly from one club swing anyway."
"What?! Duel with me first!"
A few loud superfans always made the biggest impact.
Novelpia's headquarters soon gleamed slickly under a barrage of thrown eggs and magic.
And Wu's reputation, reduced to Kim Yul's scapegoat, plummeted daily.
Instead of the traditional "puppy" insult, "rat bastard" surged as the more degrading slur.
"Now, starting the duel... Hm?"
"We are starting. What's wrong?"
"...You're pulling out the Sun Quan-Lu Xun deck right now?"
"Of course, to counter your Liu Bei-Guan Yu deck—"
"You rat bastard! Mocking Guan Yu twice now!"
The meta of the board game "Heroes Assemble"—commonly called Duel—shifted physically.
The inexorable force of the world ensured sticker games solidified as "Duel" everywhere.
Thus, those who had hipster-collected Wu cards while muttering "Why are they so underpowered?" shed bloody tears.
That no "burn-your-cards-screw-the-user" riots erupted was something to be grateful for.
In an era when even running Sun Quan through a Caesar whitewashing machine couldn't reverse the ferocious public opinion haunting the capital like ghosts.
Kim Yul fearlessly strolled the streets, basking in that public sentiment with his whole body.
If Sun Quan's ghost appeared, it might possess him and scream "I'm Sunny Jerry!"—he was that defenseless.
But if the dead Sun Quan's ghost showed, Kim Yul would've exorcised it instantly with domain expansion "Rivalry of the Two Palaces."
No big deal.
And he had company.
"You have an acquaintance who's ill?"
"Yes. They say it's anger sickness, but... well, I'm worried anyway."
"Sure. Let's go."
What reason did a Saintess need to heal the sick?
But if such benevolence came with a heart-fluttering romance tale, she'd squeeze out time even if she didn't have it.
Even if.
"Rune finally realized his feelings. So he mustered the courage to confess to Xiao. But he wasn't bold enough to say it outright, so he left a note: 'Meet me in the Art Academy's piano practice room.' But that note ended up in Chen's hands instead."
"Oh my."
Lately, Kim Yul struggled to find writing time, so he had to tell stories instead.
Still thrilling, sweet, and heart-racing.
Even the title.
A Secret I Can't Whisper to You.
How romantic!
"You really should write romance novels, Author..."
"Ahem, I'll seriously consider it. Anyway, we're here."
"Huh?"
Even though Kim Yul cut off at the ticklish part.
"This is the destination?"
Roselin couldn't whine; she could only voice her bewilderment.
"Yes. As expected of the Saintess—you know the place."
"Uh, well... No, I don't."
Roselin nearly explained kindly to this foolishly kind Kim Yul, then swallowed her words.
Anyway.
She'd figure it out soon enough.
.
.
.
A moment later.
"I may slobber, but I can never utter such words from an elf's mouth! You big-chested saintesssss!"
A bellow erupted from Chloe's room.