Chapter Two: What? Am I Useless?

“Old man, weren’t you sick?” Zhao Ang asked calmly, his voice tinged with a hint of weakness.

“Your Highness, the prince was merely feigning illness to lure the Turks into a trap. When they let their guard down, the prince mobilized his troops, cutting off their retreat and striking straight at the Turkic capital, leaving a trail of severed heads!” Wang Xin, the deputy general who had followed in, explained with a smile.

Zhao Rong chuckled proudly and nodded in approval.

“A clever strategy! The old man’s blade is still sharp as ever.”

Zhao Ang gave the elder a thumbs-up in flattery. “Congratulations on another remarkable feat, old sir. Even the ancient general Lian Po can’t compare to you.”

“But tell me, are you truly unharmed? Imperial doctors, come quickly! Don’t just stand there dumbfounded—examine the old man at once!” Zhao Ang shouted anxiously.

Seeing Zhao Rong’s blood-stained armor, the imperial physicians dared not delay and stepped forward to inspect him.

“Enough! I’m fine!” Zhao Rong waved them off, glaring at Zhao Ang. “You brat, stop pretending in front of me. Causing such a mess—just wait until I give you a good thrashing!”

He raised his riding whip.

Crack!

The whip struck the bedframe with a sharp snap.

Though his grandson looked pale and feeble, the old man’s heart softened despite his tough words—after all, he was the Zhao family’s only heir!

“Outrageous!” Zhao Rong snapped, flicking the whip again with a crisp crack. “Take him to the confinement chamber to reflect on his misdeeds. Don’t let him out without my orders!”

Wang Xin smiled as he stepped forward. “Apologies, Your Highness, I am only following orders.” He helped Zhao Ang up and carried a cup of medicinal broth as they left.

“What a curse! Our Zhao clan is renowned for loyalty and bravery, yet our heir is a useless wretch,” Zhao Rong sighed. “Bring my bath and clothes—I must dress and pay homage to the emperor.”

The so-called confinement chamber was nothing more than a training room filled with weapons.

After downing the medicinal broth, Zhao Ang felt warmth flood his body and his spirits lift. Reclining on the bed, he carefully examined himself.

“Blood and qi are deficient, meridians severely blocked, body in decline… this condition is worse than I imagined.”

A typical spoiled heir, indulging in debauchery until his body gave out.

A complete waste!

If he’d transmigrated even a few years later, he might as well have awaited death.

“This isn’t right—the Qi Sea acupoint is throbbing slightly, and there’s lingering poison inside. Sure enough, I was drugged!”

In his previous life, Zhao Ang had once studied the Muscle-Tendon Changing Classic under an old monk. His extraordinary talent had granted him deep insight and the ability to detect abnormalities in his own body.

“This poison must be the true cause of the original owner’s impotence.”

Quickly pinpointing the issue, Zhao Ang realized the original body only needed a bit of aphrodisiac and a woman to seal his fate.

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