Regretting Sorrow

1

In Zhu Nation, a tyrannical emperor ruled. He climbed to the throne, defeating and killing his brothers, shedding blood upon the dragon throne. He ruled with an iron fist, a man who many feared. Though tyrannical and cruel he was, his citizens still prospered. Of course, as a tyrannical emperor, he had his shortcomings too, that of which could easily lead to bloodshed.

"Jiangwu is currently suffering from a plague. Minister Wu was sent a few days ago but was unable to help any of the citizens. It is estimated that the imperial physicians will not be able to find a cure to this plague in time to end the death of all citizens in Jiangwu." Standing up and cupping his fist, a man around the age of 45 years old spoke.

Seated upon the Imperial throne, a man dressed in a black and gold robe sat. The Imperial Crown rested upon his head. The man had thin lips, held in a curve, a sneer mixed with a smirk. His eyes were dark and cold, accentuated by his deep brows. The man had a wheat color skin tone. His gaze was both penetrating and strong. His jaw was chiseled, with a high nose bridge that sculpted his face. His dark black hair was held within the crown he wore, the beads dangling before his eyes.

He was Zhu Shengyin, the Emperor of Zhu Nation. Else, many called him the Tyrannical Emperor.

Zhu Shengyin tapped his fingers onto the armrest of the dragon throne he sat on, causing a rhythmic thudding in the quiet room as everyone held their breaths in fear. His eyes gazed around, sweeping at all the ministers with a smirk on his lips.

Finally, in a low voice, he spoke, "I am quite sure that I told Minister Wu to set off nearly two weeks ago." Zhu Shengyin's words were said with a cold tone, eyes sweeping around as his fingers continued tapping onto the chair.

The minister reporting was silenced, unable to say a word for fear of his life.

Zhu Shengyin suddenly laughed, a sound that was able to bring chills down the back of even King Yama.

Zhu Shengyin's eyes peered at everyone, "Am I starting to grow weak to the point that you all are beginning to ignore my words?" It was a simple question, but to everyone else, it felt like a sword was pressed against their necks.

Within the wide court room, over twenty minsters stood up and bowed, their knees hitting the hard ground with a thud as they hurriedly called out, "Of course not, Your Majesty!"

There was sweat dripping down their backs.

Zhu Shengyin merely looked at all of the men with a sneer on his face. His fingers stopped, the rhythmic sound ending. It didn't take long before he looked at a guard stationed near him. The guard immediately handed him his sword. Zhu Shengyin held the long, black sword in his hand as he stood up, his robe rustling lightly. His footsteps were light as he descended the steps.

No matter how light his steps were, in the room, it still echoed. Those who bowed onto the ground began to fear for themselves.

Zhu Shengyin held the sword in his hand as he swung it a few times, causing swishing noises in the air. He looked at the line of men whose heads were touching the ground with mirthful eyes. He stepped by them, able to hear their breaths stagger as he was near them.

"You see, it's been a while since blood was shed in here. I went quite a long time without killing someone else. Nine days and I still had not grabbed this sword of mine." As Zhu Shengyin spoke, dragging out his words, he continued circling the men. "It seems like I have to use my sword today. What a shame. I hate people who disobey my commands."

Then, not even a moment afterwards, Zhu Shengyin's sword had cleanly cut off the head of a minister next to him. There were no screams, no shouts. Only the head rolling on the ground and the sound of blood splashing was a sign that he had took away a man's life.