My name is Lin Zhao. I transmigrated into this world three days ago, and in seven more days I’ll be beheaded.
My crime is treason. It all started because I drew up a sketch showing how to add a sight to the crossbows used by the city guards.
The jailer calls me crazy. My cellmates call me an idiot.
I don’t care, because I know something even crazier: in nine days, the Northern Shuo King’s wolf banners will appear outside the city, and no one inside will survive.
I gaze at the blood-red moon beyond the iron-barred window, with only one thought in mind: I need to get out of here first.
Then I’ll make this city mine.
