Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 105

Jiang Liu is terrified. His legs tremble, yet he still follows his comrades’ example, raising the long spear in his hands. He doesn’t dare look ahead—only dares to charge forward with his head lowered.

He has never imagined joining the army. Before being conscripted, he is just an ordinary citizen, living a comfortable life with servants at home. He is sent to study under a teacher from a young age, and he can read and carve characters. With his teacher’s recommendation, he should have secured a minor official post in the capital one day.

Jiang Liu knows he lacks ability—and he doesn’t want any. Mediocrity, after all, means a longer life.

But before the monarch can return, before his teacher can write the recommendation, the soldiers come knocking.

They arrive under orders from the Marquis’s wife to conscript men in Linzi City.

The Jiang family’s male servants are taken. Jiang Liu’s brothers are taken. And Jiang Liu can’t escape.

He wants to flee, but after witnessing a civilian being beaten to death by soldiers for trying to run, he no longer dares entertain the thought.

In the army camp, he eats the worst bean paste and sleeps on the bare ground. Every day when he opens his eyes, his thoughts are consumed by how to fill his stomach and how to avoid getting beaten.

His days at home feel like a previous life.

And now, here he is—someone who has never set foot on a battlefield, who has never even killed a chicken—gripping a long spear and trying to stop the king from entering the city.

Jiang Liu doesn’t dare.

He doesn’t dare block the king, let alone kill him. And he doesn’t dare run.

So all he can do is charge forward with his eyes closed.

But soon, he is forced to look up.

A tremendous sound booms in his ears—one after another—endless, deafening.

Jiang Liu raises his head, dazed.

He stares blankly at the scene in front of him, convinced he is dreaming, that it’s all an illusion.

The soldiers who stood just before him now lie sprawled on the ground, soaked in blood. The thick stench of it overwhelms his nose.

Jiang Liu turns around and sees the soldiers behind him charging into the city like madmen.

He alone stands in their way.

Jiang Liu’s body trembles, and a warm stream runs down his legs.

He has wet himself.

He collapses onto the ground, landing on a corpse that is still faintly warm. The man was alive just moments ago—now, he is dead.

“There’s one more over there,” Cao’er says to Wu Yan.

Wu Yan glances at him and replies, “Leave him. He’s not charging at us anymore.”

Cao’er frowns. “But with all these corpses in the way, how will the carriage pass?”

Wu Yan rubs his temples. “The Lord immortal should have a solution.”

But what can the Lord immortal do?

Ye Zhou has no choice but to leave the carriage behind and ride into the city with Chen Hou.

Before entering, he glances at the lone surviving soldier sitting in the pile of corpses. Pressing his lips together, he doesn’t linger—just turns away and looks straight ahead.

Chen Yan and the soldiers behind him are stunned. One by one, they begin to feel fortunate—Chen Yan especially.

…Fortunate that he hasn’t listened to his subordinates’ suggestion to storm the “supermarket” directly. If they had, they wouldn’t have lasted longer than the fallen soldiers now lying scattered outside.

At least these troops have the option to retreat into the city. If they had made the same mistake back then, where could they have run?

“General…” One of the soldiers who made that suggestion swallows hard, speaking in a trembling voice, “It’s a good thing you didn’t listen to me.”

Chen Yan nods stiffly. “Yes. It’s a good thing.”

If he had listened, none of them would still be standing here now.

No wonder—no wonder these people dare to fight against greater numbers, no wonder even women take to the battlefield.

They carry weapons sharper than anything ordinary people can imagine, allowing them to cut through anything, to kill anyone.

Thank the heavens those weapons are divine—beyond reach. If they existed in the human world… the death toll would be unimaginable.

Ye Zhou rides silently. At some point, Zou Ming has returned to his side, but Ye Zhou doesn’t think much of it. The two are like twin brothers now—inseparable. Only Zou Ming’s absence would give him pause.

“Where’s your horse?” Ye Zhou asks, reining in his mount.

“Outside the city gate,” Zou Ming replies.

Ye Zhou can’t expand the supermarket to buy a new horse now, nor can he steal one—there aren’t even stirrups. Even if Zou Ming can ride, Ye Zhou doesn’t dare let him.

“Get on with me,” Ye Zhou says, a little worried. “You’re not too heavy, right? If you are, the horse might struggle.”

But Zou Ming doesn’t even wait for his next sentence. As soon as Ye Zhou finishes speaking, he climbs up.

He sits behind Ye Zhou, reaches forward, and grasps the reins—wrapping his arms fully around Ye Zhou’s waist.

Ye Zhou expects this, of course. Two men sharing a horse inevitably means closeness. Still, he can’t help feeling uncomfortable—especially with Zou Ming’s hair constantly brushing his neck.

Ye Zhou tries turning his head to avoid it, but no matter how he dodges, as long as they stay in this position, Zou Ming’s presence surrounds him completely.

Zou Ming doesn’t smell of sweat. Instead, he carries the faint scent of laundry detergent—clean and dry, almost comforting.

Ye Zhou takes a deep breath, gradually easing his discomfort, then urges the horse toward the palace.

Chen Yan leads the way, galloping ahead. But on the main road through Linzi’s royal district, there isn’t a single civilian in sight.

The vast capital city feels like a ghost town.

Only the occasional shadow peeking through a window—or the quick slam of a shutter—hints that people are still alive inside.

Then they are stopped again, this time by a group of armored soldiers.

Compared to the ones at the gate, these soldiers look far more elite. They are taller, stronger, and wear leather armor.

The earlier troops had no armor at all.

The leader wears a bronze helmet and holds a long saber. He sho

The leader wears a bronze helmet and holds a long saber. He shouts to Chen Yan, “General Prince Yan, long time no see!”

Chen Yan halts his horse. It paws the ground restlessly. He’s no longer angry—if he gets any angrier, he’ll explode. Now his face is expressionless. “It’s you.”

The leader laughs. “Indeed, it’s me! Bet you didn’t expect it! I’ve returned to the capital!”

Chen Yan replies, “You and I are both kin to the king. If you want revenge, take it out on me. Why be that Zhao dog’s lapdog? Aren’t you afraid of shaming your ancestors? How will you face them and our predecessors?”

The leader sneers. “Ancestors? What do the dead care for the living? Chen Yan, enough talk. You and I, one-on-one. If I win, you die. If you win, I’ll let you go.”

Chen Hou shouts from behind, “Brother Yan, you can’t—!”

Before he can finish, Chen Yan has already agreed. “Fine! Don’t regret it.”

The leader roars back, “I never will!”

Ye Zhou leans back, his head resting lightly on Zou Ming’s shoulder. He whispers, “Only in this era can we witness something like this.”

Two armies confronting one another—neither moving—while their generals step forward to duel.

“What’s the point?” Ye Zhou murmurs.

“If the general wins,” Zou Ming says, “it rallies his troops. And if the opposing general loses, their morale collapses.”

Sometimes, a general’s defeat means the end of the battle altogether. The losing side simply retreats in disgrace.

Ye Zhou shakes his head. “Marquis Chen told me they fight like gentlemen—no sneak attacks, no ambushes. Just formal challenges and open combat. Whoever launches a surprise attack gets scorned. Isn’t war supposed to be about deception? What’s this? A benevolent army? Then why fight at all? Just sit down and play a few rounds of mahjong.”

Though Ye Zhou doesn’t understand it, he is stunned. It seems like this idea of “benevolence” is etched into the bones of the locals.

“Madam, there’s movement outside,” The “eunuch” kneels beside the Marchioness, lifting a wooden hairpin. When the palace maids outside glance over, he quickly sticks the pin into her bun.

From the maids’ angle, it looks like the eunuch and the Marchioness are being intimately affectionate.

The maid looks away.

All of the Marchioness’s personal maids have been taken away. Now she is alone, trapped here. The other palace maids act as Zhao Mu’s eyes and ears. The only people she can use, the only ones who can relay information, are the male concubines Zhao Mu gave her.

But she doesn’t fully trust them either. So she nods and softly asks, “What’s happening?”

The “eunuch” lowers his gaze. “The sovereign and General Prince Yan have returned. They’re in the city now. The Zuotu has already sent people to stop and kill them…”

The Marchioness’s eyes go wide. She covers her mouth, her other hand clutching the eunuch’s wrist tightly.

“Madam, there are only two maids outside. Everyone in the palace is gripped by fear. Let me take you out!”

She looks at him. “How will you take me out? Why would you?”

The eunuch replies, “I’ve arranged a carriage. As long as the maids are dealt with, I can take you away. I’ll return to the palace. As Madam’s former servant, Zuotu will punish me. Once I’m dead, he won’t know how Madam escaped—and he won’t be able to bring you back.” Then he suddenly says, “Before becoming a eunuch, I was a descendant of the Yang family.”

The Marchioness murmurs, “A Yang clansman…”

The eunuch solemnly says, “I don’t dare claim the Yang name any longer. Please don’t be ashamed of my lowliness. I may no longer be a scholar, but I still wish to emulate a gentleman—I’m still willing to die for my confidant.”