EHW Ch2

After the line of text lingered for a moment, it slowly faded away.

Then, a large title appeared before Gu Fangzhi’s eyes—four golden characters written in bold, imperial calligraphy, glowing over a backdrop of layered red and gold:

《Founding Emperor》

At the bottom left were two buttons:

“Save”

“Load”

…This was the start screen of Founding Emperor.

Gu Fangzhi stared blankly.

He wandered through that still, timeless void for what felt like ages before finally understanding.

Simply put, this was his system, his golden finger.

Through saving and loading, he could rewind time, giving himself another chance whenever he faced danger or crisis.

If there was one drawback, it was that there were only two save slots.

Not exactly ideal for a save-scumming addict.

But still, good enough.

One of the slots contained an auto-save from five minutes ago, meaning he could return to the moment before Pei Xin decided to execute him and change his fate.

The more Gu Fangzhi thought about it, the more satisfied he became with this power.
With this, he could at least stay alive under the tyrant Pei Xi, live just a little longer, and a little longer still.

He tilted his head, eyes curving into a smile.

Reaching out, his slender porcelain fingers selected Load Save.

In an instant, Gu Fangzhi was back in the tense, deathly silent throne hall.

His head spun slightly, vision dimming.
When his body adjusted, he realized he was still kneeling on the floor.

From the dais above came Pei Xin’s cold voice—

“Drag them all out and behead them.”

Gu Fangzhi’s smile froze.

“…What the hell, why did it load right before my death sentence?”

But he wasn’t giving up that easily.

Straightening, he looked directly toward the emperor on the dais.

Pei Xin happened to look back at the same time.

As the emperor shifted, the beaded curtain swayed slightly, revealing a glimpse of his eyes, meeting Gu Fangzhi’s gaze midair.

The young tyrant’s eyes seemed faintly puzzled, as if he were studying a creature beyond his comprehension.

Gu Fangzhi didn’t care what the emperor thought, he shot to his feet.

“Your Majesty! The people have lived in turmoil for years, never knowing peace!
Now that order is restored and you have ascended the throne, all under Heaven hope that you will lead them to a better life. But with hearts still unsettled, how can you speak of executions at every turn? Your Majesty, this humble servant only wishes for the good of the people—
Peace in the land is the will of Heaven and the desire of all!”

Gu Fangzhi’s voice was naturally soft and clear, usually calm, even soothing to hear.

But now, with his life on the line, it trembled with tension and fear, rasping faintly at the edges—
oddly beautiful in its desperation.

Swallowing hard, he looked up nervously at Pei Xin.

The emperor shifted his chin onto his other hand, not even bothering to reply, simply raised one hand and waved lazily, the back of his fingers facing Gu Fangzhi.

Immediately, guards began striding toward him.

“Your Majesty—Your Majesty!” Gu Fangzhi tried one last plea.

Pei Xin only frowned.

Before the guards could seize his arms, Gu Fangzhi willed it and the save/load interface appeared before him again.

Since he hadn’t created a new save after loading, the same auto-save was still there.

Gu Fangzhi reached out and selected Load Save once more.

In the next instant, he was back, five minutes earlier, kneeling on the floor again.

The dizziness from the reset still lingered; he waited for it to fade before looking up—
and saw that the guards were already beginning to move toward him again.

So, how was he supposed to survive this time?

Trying to appeal to Pei Xin’s conscience hadn’t worked.
It was now confirmed: the man was an absolute dictator.

His mind raced as the guards drew closer.

Suddenly, he looked up and shouted—

“Your Majesty—!”

At the same moment, Pei Xin spoke:

“You—”

The sound of his voice made even the guards freeze mid-step.
No one dared breathe too loudly, afraid the emperor might hear and take offense.

Through the hanging beads, Pei Xin’s dark gaze locked on Gu Fangzhi.

He moved the fingers supporting his chin, absentmindedly pressing against his temple.

Today was his first court session since ascending the throne.

He had grown up on the battlefield, following his father and brothers into countless campaigns and had witnessed time and again how his father dealt with insubordinate soldiers: by killing them.

Only the dead obeyed without question.

Only the death of one could make the rest fall in line.

There was nothing in this world that couldn’t be solved with the words—

“Drag him out and behead him.”

And if there was—

Behead him twice.

But somehow…

From the very start of this morning, he felt as though he’d fallen into a dream he couldn’t wake from.

Even though he had clearly ordered Gu Fangzhi’s execution,
for some reason, in the next instant, the man would reappear, right back where he had been.

…What kind of sorcery was this?

A dream?

Or was he, like his late father in his final days, beginning to see hallucinations?

No, none of that fit.

His mind was clear and he hadn’t been drinking, so it couldn’t be a hallucination or a dream.

Then what was it…?

Could someone be secretly doing some trickery to spook him, pretending ghosts or sorcery?

At the thought, a cold snort escaped Pei Xin’s lips.

His long fingers tapped impatiently twice; he fixed the ministers below with a chill voice and asked, “How many times has this been?”

The ministers looked at one another.

…How many times?

Seeing the displeasure deepen on Pei Xin’s face, who would dare stay silent?

A eunuch at his side nervously tried to gauge the emperor’s mood and stammered, “Sire, five times… no, six… no, wait, seven times.”

“Yes, yes, seven times. I remember it clearly.”

“Your Majesty, seven times.”

Pei Xin: “…”

Nonsense!

He pressed his fingers harder to his temples, face darkening frighteningly. “All of you, shut up!”

His eyes swept the assembly, searching for anyone who might be tampering behind the scenes.

But there was nothing.

Everyone looked equally terrified and sincere.

Could it be… sorcery?

Yet judging by the others’ reactions, none of them seemed aware of having returned to an earlier moment.

Was he the only one noticing? Or was whatever was happening directed at him?

Pei Xin did not believe in ghosts or spirits.

Life and death were simple facts, like pregnancy: either it’s carried or it isn’t. Either you live, or you die.

You couldn’t be half-pregnant, half-dead.

Like his father and brothers, he despised theatrics and charlatan tricks.

Still, after experiencing the same phenomenon repeatedly, doubt crept in.

He suspected one of the ministers he had ordered executed, or someone close to them, might be behind this.

Resolved in his suspicion, Pei Xin tapped his fingers twice more and said, “Execute them.”

The tone matched previous times: cold, severe. But this time the decree wasn’t born of a real desire to kill, it was a ploy to flush out whoever was faking miracles behind the curtain.

Pei Xin’s eyes were like a black panther’s, skeptical and icy by nature. Anyone caught in that gaze would shiver involuntarily.

He slowly scanned the crowd, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary.

Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly saw someone move.

Following that glance, Pei Xin’s eyes landed on Gu Fangzhi.

That oily, greedy sycophant, handsome outwardly but rotten through and through, had the audacity to meddle just when the emperor wanted to assert authority.

And to keep his life, he’d loudly declare pious remonstrances he didn’t even believe in.

But in that moment Gu Fangzhi’s face was not the usual obsequious leer, nor the trembling, frightened look he’d worn pleading moments before.

Gu Fangzhi brushed the stray hair from his forehead, frowned, and looked irritated.

“Tch,” he clicked, then, as if not satisfied, added bluntly, “Damn.”

In the next instant Pei Xin’s vision went dark.

When he looked up again, the words left his mouth of their own accord: “Drag them all out and behead them.”

Pei Xin squinted and looked at Gu Fangzhi, who was crouched on the floor pretending to be dead.

—Found you.