After Breaking Free From The System's Control - Chapter 1

Consciousness returned to him little by little.

First came the sounds, drifting in from near and far, muffled as though he were sitting inside a cave hidden behind a waterfall, separated from the world by a curtain of rushing water.

Someone was crying.

The voice was shrill, carrying the distinctive cadence of a palace eunuch. It sounded achingly familiar.

Then came the pain.

It seeped from every limb and every bone, worming its way into the very marrow.

Jin Tang slowly opened his eyes. It took him a while before the canopy above came into focus. The imperial yellow drapes embroidered with five-clawed golden dragons shimmered faintly beneath the candlelight.

The dragons were exquisitely stitched. Their scales, woven from countless strands of gold thread, caught the flickering flames and glinted with scattered specks of light.

He stared at the dragon’s eyes for a long moment before it dawned on him in a haze.

This was his bedchamber.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty, you’ve finally awakened!”

Wang Zhong threw himself beside the bed. His aged face was crumpled like a sheet of paper that had been crushed and smoothed out again, tears and snot smeared all over it.

He had served in the palace for many years—first attending the Late Emperor, then following Jin Tang. True to his name, he was loyal beyond reproach.

Now he knelt beside the imperial bed, his hands trembling as though he wanted to touch Jin Tang, yet he feared disturbing the Son of Heaven. In the end, he withdrew them and could only wipe away his tears over and over.

Jin Tang tried to speak.

His throat was so dry it burned, as though it had been scraped raw with sandpaper. He attempted to swallow, only for a sharp stab of pain to shoot through his throat.

Seeing this, Wang Zhong hurriedly helped him sit up and carefully fed him a mouthful of water.

The water was warm, carrying a faint sweetness of honey. It must have been honey water kept ready at all times.

As the warm liquid slid down his throat, a trace of life seemed to return to him.

“How long… have I been asleep?” Jin Tang asked. His voice was hoarse to the point of sounding unfamiliar, dry and rough.

“Two whole days and two nights!” Wang Zhong answered while wiping away his tears, his voice still trembling with lingering fear. “Your Majesty nearly frightened this old servant to death this time! Imperial Physician! Imperial Physician!”

He turned and shouted toward the doorway, his piercing voice almost painful to the ears.

Jin Tang slowly closed his eyes.

His head buzzed incessantly.

Two days and two nights.

One day longer than the last time.

The events before he had fallen unconscious gradually resurfaced in his mind.

The System’s cold, emotionless voice echoed through his thoughts, ordering him to execute the censor who had dared to remonstrate with the throne.

The man had been an elderly official well past fifty.

He had spoken bluntly in court without the slightest hesitation.

Jin Tang could still see him kneeling in the center of the great hall, his back ramrod straight. There had been no fear in his eyes.

Only profound concern.

So Jin Tang refused the System’s order.

Then came the familiar agony.

It felt as though countless needles had been driven into his bones, as though his entire body had been thrown into a blazing furnace.

The pain began at the crown of his head and spread throughout every inch of him. Every patch of skin screamed. Every bone wailed in protest.

He remembered curling up on the Dragon Throne, cold sweat soaking through his inner robes while darkness crept into the edges of his vision.

This wasn’t the first time.

A year ago, Jin Tang had still been an ordinary young man in the twenty-first century.

Every day, he worked overtime, trying to earn enough money. He had always thought that once he’d saved enough, he’d quit for a while and go traveling.

The tiny apartment he rented had a Chinese parasol tree outside the window.

Every autumn, its leaves would turn golden. When the wind blew, they would flutter down in shimmering waves, beautiful beyond words.

He had often thought that when he finally had time, he would sit by that window and spend an afternoon watching the falling leaves, living the peaceful life he had always wanted.

But something always got in the way.

Then came the runaway truck.

And the moment his body was sent flying.

The sky had been brilliantly blue that day.

The sunlight had been blinding.

When he awoke again, he had become the young emperor of the Great Zhao Dynasty—a dynasty that had never existed in recorded history.

The System had told him that if he completed its missions exactly as instructed, he would be resurrected.

Jin Tang had believed it.

Who could refuse the chance to live again?

Especially when that second life came with the throne itself, surrounded by luxury and standing above tens of thousands.

But he had never imagined that what the System wanted him to become…

…was a tyrant.

At first, the tasks had seemed minor enough.

Dismiss a few officials.

Raise taxes a little.

Jin Tang had comforted himself that these were simply necessary sacrifices on the road to resurrection.

It wasn’t until the System ordered him to execute a loyal minister that he realized what kind of hell he had walked into.

The official had been an upright, incorruptible man who had merely submitted a memorial of honest advice.

For that, he had been thrown into the imperial prison.

Jin Tang had gone to see him there.

Separated by iron bars, the official had still bowed respectfully before saying,

“Your Majesty, this minister’s death is of no consequence. I ask only that Your Majesty keep the people of the realm in your heart.”

That night…

Jin Tang learned what true sleeplessness felt like.

“Your Majesty, Imperial Physician Shen has arrived.”

Wang Zhong’s gentle reminder pulled him back to the present.

Shen Jiren hurried inside carrying his medicine chest before kneeling to pay his respects.

He was the most respected physician in the Imperial Medical Bureau. Though his hair had long since turned white, his hands remained remarkably steady.

Jin Tang extended his wrist.

Shen Jiren’s fingers rested upon it.

They were cool to the touch, their skin rough with the thin calluses left behind by years of grinding medicinal herbs.

The bedchamber fell so silent that even the crackling of the candlewick could be heard.

Jin Tang watched Shen Jiren’s brows knit tighter and tighter.

Fine beads of sweat gradually formed across the old physician’s forehead.

He knew exactly how much pressure this elderly doctor was under.

Unable to diagnose the emperor’s illness meant the entire Imperial Medical Bureau lived in constant fear.

Only…

Jin Tang already knew the answer.

For more than a year, the illness had returned again and again without warning.

Each attack began with violent convulsions before leaving him unconscious for days.

The Imperial Medical Bureau had exhausted every possible method. They could find no cause.

The physicians had prescribed countless formulas and tried every treatment imaginable.

Nothing worked.

Only Jin Tang knew the truth.

This was the System’s punishment.

Every time he disobeyed its commands…

This happened.

The pain always came suddenly.

And disappeared just as suddenly.

As though its only purpose was to remind him whose hands his life truly rested in.

“Your Majesty…”

Shen Jiren knelt fully on the floor, his voice shaking.

“This minister is incompetent. I still cannot determine the cause of Your Majesty’s illness. Only… Your Majesty’s pulse is even weaker than it was last month…”

Jin Tang nodded calmly.

“This is not your fault. Just prescribe something to nourish my health.”

His tone was far too calm.

His expression was far too indifferent.

It was as though they were discussing someone else’s illness.

Shen Jiren froze.

Why did it feel…

…as though His Majesty had already resigned himself to death?

This was not the reaction a young emperor should have.

It was more like an aged monk who had already seen through life and death.

What a blasphemous thought!

Shen Jiren quickly forced the absurd notion from his mind, answered repeatedly in acknowledgment, and withdrew to prepare a prescription.

After seeing the imperial physician out, Wang Zhong returned carrying a bowl of medicine.

The dark brown liquid sat inside a white porcelain bowl, giving off a bitter medicinal scent.

The smell was familiar.

There was the fragrance of angelica root and astragalus, mixed with several herbs Jin Tang couldn’t identify.

He accepted the bowl and drained it in one gulp.

Bitterness spread across his tongue.

But he had long since grown accustomed to it.

Over the past year, he had consumed more medicine than food.

Every time he awoke after one of these episodes, another bowl of bitter decoction awaited him.

At first, he had complained about the taste and asked for candied fruit to wash it away.

Eventually…

He became numb to it.

No matter how bitter the medicine, he could drink it without changing expression.

Sometimes Jin Tang wondered…

If only he hadn’t agreed to the System in the first place.

Had he refused back then…

Would he already have been reincarnated by now, beginning a brand-new life?

Or would his soul simply have dispersed, vanishing forever?

But life offered no “what ifs.”

He had already walked far too deeply down this road.

Every compromise.

Every act of submission.

Each one carried him farther away from the person he used to be.

Jin Tang often found himself lingering before the bronze mirror, staring at the face reflected within.

It was exactly the same face he had worn in his previous life.

And he would wonder…

Whose life was he actually living?

“Your Majesty… would you care for some porridge?” Wang Zhong asked cautiously. “You haven’t eaten for two days.”

Jin Tang shook his head.

Exhaustion washed over him like the tide.

All he wanted was to sleep.

There seemed to be calming herbs mixed into the medicine. His eyelids were already growing heavy.

“I’ll rest a while longer.”

As he lay back down, he suddenly remembered something and stopped Wang Zhong, who was about to leave.

“My Royal Uncle Xuan… when will he reach the capital?”

Wang Zhong was visibly taken aback.

“Replying to Your Majesty, according to his itinerary… he should arrive tomorrow.”

Jin Tang gave a soft hum and closed his eyes.

Xiao Li…

…was coming back.

The thought alone eased the tightness gripping his heart.

Xiao Li had been the Late Emperor’s sworn brother.

The Late Emperor had granted him the title of Prince Xuan, a prince equal in rank to the emperor himself.

After the Late Emperor passed away and the young emperor ascended the throne, Xiao Li had voluntarily requested permission to return to his fief in the northern frontier, where it bordered the enemy kingdom.

He had remained there for three years.

Not once had he returned to the capital.

Three months earlier, while the System had been away, Jin Tang had secretly issued an imperial decree summoning Xiao Li back.

The System had said it needed to return to the Main System and would be gone for some time.

Jin Tang seized that opportunity.

He drafted the decree overnight and had it delivered to the northern frontier by an eight-hundred-li express courier.

The System still had no idea that Xiao Li had been summoned back to the capital.

If it ever found out…

Who knew what kind of chaos it would cause?

Thinking of that, a faint, bitter smile appeared on Jin Tang’s lips.

The System would undoubtedly fly into a rage.

It would surely devise even harsher punishments for him.

So be it.

He would deal with whatever came.

At worst…

He would simply die again.

He had already died once.

What was there left to fear?

---

Night deepened.

When Jin Tang awoke once more, most of the candles in the imperial bedchamber had already burned out.

Only a single palace lantern remained lit in the distance, casting a dim golden halo across the floor.

The eunuch on night duty leaned against the doorway, nodding off, his head bobbing every few moments as though he might wake at any second.

Without disturbing him, Jin Tang quietly sat up.

He slowly walked to the window and pushed it open.

The night breeze carried a cool chill.

Moonlight poured down like molten silver, illuminating the glazed roof tiles until they gleamed.

The flowering crabapple trees in the courtyard were in full bloom, their blossoms veiled in a soft layer of moonlight.

Nights like this always stirred countless memories.

He remembered the great flood north of the Yangtze.

The System had ordered him to divert disaster relief funds to build palaces.

He had struggled for a long time, torn between countless innocent lives and his own resurrection.

Night after night, sleep had eluded him.

The moment he closed his eyes, he saw endless scenes of suffering.

Children with sallow, starving faces.

Old men and women kneeling in desperate pleas.

Families who had lost everything to the floodwaters.

One after another, they haunted his dreams.

In the end…

For the first time…

Jin Tang defied the System’s command.

During morning court, he ordered every available resource to be devoted to disaster relief.

He still remembered the silence that had fallen over the court.

The stunned expressions of the ministers.

Then the explosion of voices that followed.

Whether it was because Jin Tang had dared to disobey its orders…

Or simply because it was enraged at being challenged…

The System punished him on the spot with an electric shock.

The agony struck without warning.

Jin Tang had nearly lost his composure in the middle of court.

Only by gritting his teeth with all his strength had he managed to endure it.

Although far harsher punishments came later, leaving his body weaker with every passing day, whenever he thought back to that first punishment…

It still felt like the most painful one of all.

Not because the physical pain had been greater.

But because, in that moment, he had understood with perfect clarity…

To the System, he was nothing more than a puppet on strings.

Even the most basic shred of his conscience was something it intended to strip away.

The moonlight shone quietly upon him.

His shadow stretched long across the ground.

Looking at it, he suddenly felt that it didn’t resemble the shadow of a living man.

It looked more like the ghost of someone who had crawled out of a grave.

Returning to bed, he stared blankly at the canopy overhead once more.

Cloud motifs were embroidered across the fabric, their golden threads faintly gleaming in the darkness.

For more than a year…

Life had become dull and empty.

Every single day was spent struggling between the System’s commands and his own conscience.

It’s time to end this.

Outside, the palace watchman’s call rang through the night.

It was the third watch.

Jin Tang closed his eyes.

This time…

He slept more peacefully than he had in a very long while.

In his dream, he saw the snow-covered mountains of the northern frontier.

The endless white snow glittered beneath the sun.

A tall, commanding figure rode hard across the plains…

Galloping toward the capital.