Dad Wants to Start a Rebellion. What Do I Do? This Toddler's Grabbing a Hoe

“Father...” The man's Adam's apple bobbed. “I'm afraid we'll be forced to rebel!!”

Chacha's little mouth paused mid-bite.

Breakfast? What breakfast?

She blinked in confusion. Before she could even process his words, the strange phrase struck her mind like a clap of thunder: “What's our motto?!”

Chacha jolted. Her feet slipped on the moss, and she nearly tumbled off the steep roof! In an instant, countless fragments of memory surged forth. The moment before, she had been an office worker staying up late in a high-rise, revising a PowerPoint presentation. The next, she had become the sole heir of Dark Night, the premier assassin family of the Great Zhou Dynasty.

She clenched her tiny fists and screamed with all her might:

“Rebellion is like eating breakfast, you have to do it every day!”

“Plotting treason is like snacking on sunflower seeds, just crack a few whenever you're bored!”

Her childish voice echoed through the empty palace, startling a few roosting crows.

As soon as she finished speaking, the muscles in her little legs tensed. She was about to spring toward the tempting candied hawthorn on a skewer like an arrow released from a bow. But just as her toes were about to leave the roof tiles, she forced herself to stop.

No.

“What is an assassin's first rule?”

Chu Ren's low voice rang out behind her, hoarse from years of drinking blood.

Chacha's little body snapped straight, and she answered almost instinctively: “Hide in the shadows, strike like lightning!”

“Target?” A hint of approval, almost impossible to detect, crept into the man's voice.

Chacha took a deep breath and fixed her gaze once more on the candied hawthorn, gleaming temptingly in the sunlight. Its plump hawthorn berries were wrapped in translucent sugar, and their sweet aroma seemed to have already reached her nose.

“Candied hawthorn!” Her childish voice rang out firmly.

“Good.”