Grassroots Emperor

I was huddled in a blood-stained haystack, while Murong Yuan's slaves were digging through the rubble. The left eye suddenly burned with pain, and the location of the three of them's fatal point after breathing emerged - the price was nosebleed dripping on the iron lock that Lu Ban had made yesterday, and the rust faded strangely, revealing the hexagram pattern of King Wen of Zhou. Those idiots don't know that the blood I vomited is seeping into the earth's veins along the hexagram, and Shu Yao's arrow has already landed on the crack of the seventh blue brick of the city tower. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.