Picked Up a Beast, Turns Out He's an Emperor (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 11
“First squad, follow Commander Jacob and take positions above the river. Once the fire starts spreading through the forest, drive those rats down toward the riverbank. At that moment, my second squad and I will wipe them out—leaving not a single one alive.”
Emperor Maxwell, clad in silver plate armor emblazoned with the Imperial Red Lion insignia, turned his white steed’s head by tugging the reins and issued his command.
“Your will be done, Your Majesty.”
The thirty-odd elite Imperial Guards personally chosen by him bowed their heads in response to their sovereign’s order.
From his observation point, he had confirmed that over a hundred soldiers from the Northwest Alliance—disguised—were infiltrating toward Count Laurell’s estate along the riverbank.
To confront the Count, who commanded a force of comparable size, and the Alliance troops, a disruption strategy was needed to scatter their numbers. Though they could wait for Imperial reinforcements, the Emperor would not tolerate any unnecessary delay.
“Your Majesty, the signal has appeared!”
A young scout perched in a tree shouted, pointing upward. Dark smoke rose from the distant night sky, swiftly followed by deep crimson flames—an indication that fire had been set at the forest entry point on the opposite side of the estate.
No sooner had the scout finished reporting than—
“Now begins the hunt—forward!”
The Emperor gave his white stallion’s mane a brief stroke, then yanked the reins sharply and charged full speed into the woods below. His royal guards swiftly followed, weaving through the trees toward the southern bank of the river.
His deep green cloak, trimmed in gold, fluttered in the cold night wind as he galloped. The Emperor’s crimson eyes, utterly devoid of warmth, already shone with the confidence of knowing who would claim victory this day.
Emperor Maxwell, hailed as the Red Lion of the Empire, disliked being compared to the king of beasts.
It wasn’t the male lion—called king—who defended his pride’s territory or hunted for food. That duty belonged to his lionesses.
Even when confronting a nomadic male lion who challenged for territory, the lioness and her young males always bore the sacrifice first. The male lion only stepped in as a last resort, compelled by survival.
In his eyes, it was a creature neither brave nor exceptional—a sentiment he shared with the inept emperors who remained safely hidden within palace walls, boasting loudly without ever stepping onto a battlefield.
A true ruler of the continent must personally sever the breath of any who dare challenge him. Only then would no one ever dare covet what was his—neither the throne… nor the Empire.
Mounted on his white steed—the same horse that had shared life and death with him on countless battlefields—the Emperor appeared not as a man, but as a god descending from beyond mortal realms.
Yet his presence bore not the pure, benevolent light of a celestial savior sent to rescue mankind… but rather the embodiment of dark terror rising from the underworld to deliver judgment.
Panicked by the fire erupting at the forest entrance to the estate, the Alliance soldiers fled downstream—only to be ambushed by the waiting First Squad.
The Alliance commander, riding down confidently upon seeing the vastly outnumbered Imperial Guard, tragically did not know who awaited him below the riverbank.
Clang! Clang! Aaagh! Swish! Hah! Gah…!
Emperor Maxwell gave the enemy no chance to catch their breath, expertly directing his guards with unmatched command. With dazzling swordsmanship, he disrupted their formations and swiftly beheaded their supreme commander, reducing the enemy to chaos.
Though few in number, the Emperor’s overwhelming charisma filled his men with high spirits. These battle-hardened veterans—who had fought alongside him for years—swept through the enemy ranks like fish returned to water.
Each time the Emperor’s longsword whistled overhead in a wide arc before slashing diagonally downward, silence deepened around him.
Beneath the crimson-lit night sky—
“Wooaaah!”
“Long live the Heltered Empire!”
“Long live His Imperial Majesty!”
Shouts of triumph shook the forest.
Having seized the Alliance’s new weapon, the Emperor raised a waterskin. Pouring its contents over his soot-streaked head, he tilted one corner of his mouth upward.
“Now it’s time to clear out the rat holes.”
Without bothering to wipe the blood from his blade, the Imperial Guard followed the Emperor toward Lord Laurell’s estate.
[This is the timeline separator]Count Laurell, once trusted by the late Emperor, now knelt upon the cold marble floor, awaiting his fate. The mansion—once vibrant with nightly revelry—stood eerily silent.
Inside the palace’s famed Crystal Ballroom, renowned as one of the Empire’s most beautiful halls, only Count Laurell and the Emperor remained.
At least, among those still breathing.
Thud… thud…
Footsteps echoed as someone crunched over the shattered fragments of hundreds of crystal chandeliers that had fallen from the high ceiling. As the sound drew nearer, the elderly Count, bowing low, began trembling violently as though seized by convulsions.
“Do you understand why I’ve let you live all this time, despite your being nothing but poison to the Empire?”
The toe of a crimson-stained black boot entered the Count’s dull gray field of vision.
“Spare… spare me, Your Majesty! It’s a misunderstanding—a grave misunderstanding! I only sought to obtain the Alliance’s new… new weapon to present it to you, Your Majesty! Please—please think of the late Emperor His Majesty Alexander and believe me!”
“You ask me to believe you?”
“Yes, yes! Please believe me! Do not doubt the loyalty I showed thirty-five years ago at the Battle of Nater River, where I saved the late Emperor’s noble life!”
As the Count raised his hands in supplication, a scornful smirk flickered across the Emperor’s lips.
“Do you truly believe I’ve let you aim arrows at my back all this time simply out of respect for the late Emperor?”
At these words, Count Laurell looked up to meet the Emperor’s gaze.
The Emperor’s blood-red eyes burned so fiercely that the Count felt his entire body might ignite. Overwhelmed by a terror he had never known, he quickly averted his eyes.
The young Emperor had known all along—knew that for years, the Count had meticulously plotted treason while avoiding his notice.
Each time the Count entered the palace for an audience, the Emperor always welcomed him warmly.
He had even reserved a special seat for him during official ceremonies, praising him as the loyal subject who saved his grandfather’s life. The Count had believed—surely—that if anyone was beyond suspicion, it was himself…
“Grrrrgh…”
The Count’s face twisted in agony.
The heel of the Emperor’s boot began grinding slowly, deliberately, over the Count’s knuckles.
“You…”
The Emperor’s dry, low voice fell coldly upon the Count’s skull.
“…attempted to poison me on the battlefield, leaked my location to the enemy, collaborated with my uncle in my absence to install his son as acting Crown Prince, failed to send even half the taxes you collected to the capital for over a year, and enforced your own decrees in defiance of the central government…”
With the toe of his boot, the Emperor gently lifted the Count’s bowed head.
“The reason I turned a blind eye was only to use you at the most opportune moment—like today.”
He had long known the Northwest Alliance watched hungrily for an opening.
He also knew of Count Laurell’s secret alliance with them, plotting to declare the southern Imperial territories an independent kingdom—territories rich with the most valuable lands in the south.
Even if troops were dispatched from the capital, it would take at least a week to reach the estate. Moreover, the estate’s dense forests and mountainous terrain made it the perfect infiltration point for Alliance forces arriving by sea and slipping upriver.
“I’ve long wanted to deal with the Northwest Alliance, but lacked a proper pretext—thanks to the incompetent Emperor Gustav and his cursed peace treaty. Once I learned of your blind ambition, I simply waited.”
The Emperor’s crimson eyes shimmered with genuine delight—the very same look he once gave Emperor Gustav when the latter refused to relinquish the throne.
The Count’s triple chin trembled as cold sweat trickled down his spine.
“Today, thanks to you, I finally have a legitimate reason to eliminate you and your parasitic faction—who’ve been sucking the Empire’s blood under the pretense of past service—and to crush the encroaching Northwest Alliance. Because of you, I can now burn every rat inside and out.”
Nodding to Deputy Commander Peter, who had just entered the ballroom, the Emperor lifted his boot from the Count’s hand.
“You have served well, Count Laurell.”
With those words—spoken just as he had once told his uncle Emperor Gustav, “You have served well”—the Emperor turned and walked out of the ballroom.
[This is the timeline separator]“Shall we mobilize the Count’s soldiers and the local populace to help extinguish the fire?”
Commander Jacob asked after securing the new weapon in the underground vault, but the Emperor shook his head.
“It looks like rain will come soon anyway. Leave it. If more than half the mountain burns away, foreign soldiers and smugglers won’t be able to hide here anymore. Turning it into a bald mountain isn’t such a bad idea.”
True to his words, thick storm clouds had already gathered above the blood-red sky engulfed in flames.
“Have you sent word for the young lady to come to the manor?”
“Yes. Counselor Kael went to escort her the moment we secured the estate. They should arrive shortly.”
Moments later, the sound of hoofbeats approached—six or seven soldiers who had been guarding Arabella’s encampment.
As the Emperor stepped through the hall toward the door, he suddenly halted. Glancing sideways at his reflection in the foyer mirror, he worried that his current appearance might once again make those large, doe-like eyes flinch away in fear.
He picked up a long runner cloth from a nearby table and rubbed away the red stains on his face and neck. Though he couldn’t remove his soiled armor, he hoped dimming the lights would disguise it well enough.
At the top of the main staircase, Counselor Kael dismounted and hurried up breathlessly. Seeing the pallor on Kael’s face, the Emperor’s jaw tightened—something was terribly wrong.
“My lady Arabella…”
Kael gasped for breath before continuing.
“…has gone missing. They say she rode a soldier’s horse into the flames, declaring she must save the animals from the wildfire.”
The soldiers entrusted with Arabella’s safety knelt on the ground before the Emperor.
“We chased after her, but lost her in the fire. She vanished too quickly—as if she knew the mountain’s terrain by heart… Punish us for failing to carry out Your Majesty’s orders.”
“Where exactly did you lose her?”
A calm voice emerged from his unreadable expression.
“On the eastern bank of the river, where the fire was spreading.”
At the Emperor’s sharp whistle, his white stallion emerged from the stables, where it had been resting. Stripping off his armor and cloak, the Emperor leapt onto the horse and vanished in an instant, tearing across the manor gardens at terrifying speed.
Male lead first thought she played hard to get, only to realize she
really disliked him
Short intro:
What she can’t stand the most is the streets full of effeminate men, especially that so-called top beauty whom she avoids at all costs.
Shen Yaoxing looks at Jiang Mingyue, who keeps approaching her with coy shyness.
Shen Yaoxing: Bro, don’t be like this, I’m really about to throw up!
She fears nothing in heaven or earth, except for him getting close to her.
*
At first he thought she was just using the trick of feigning indifference to attract his attention. Later, he learned that she truly despised him.
This dealt a heavy blow to Jiang Mingyue, and he vowed to make her, like everyone else, fall at his feet in worship!
***
Synopsis:
Before transmigrating, Shen Yaoxing only wanted to find a reliable man to spend her life with. Who knew that after transmigrating, she would become a reliable woman herself…
A forced misandrist, highly skilled, and reliable female lead
vs.
An initially aloof and arrogant, later morbid, obsessed male lead
_____
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I’m not yet convinced this is a curse. There are a lot of questionable events. Why would a black panther kidnap a princess?
I’ve been wondering just how he intends to keep her alive and unharmed enough to even attempt lifting the curse. I don’t believe these classes will be enough if she only had four days.
Is she not concerned because the emperor told her she wasn’t going to become the empress regardless? He explicitly stated she only needed to break his curse & that she wouldn’t become the empress as she wasn’t qualified (I don’t recall his precise wording).