The Twelve Talismans Sweep Through the Chaos of Late Ming from the Start

In the final years of the Chongzhen reign, the situation was hellish from the start. Lin Shendu opened his eyes to a northern wasteland, with the Manchu blade at his throat.

The Twelve Talismans entered his body, curses and power alike: the Ox Talisman, able to split mountains and shatter rocks, tearing enemy chieftains apart with his bare hands. The Rabbit Talisman, faster than thunder, making a rain of arrows seem to crawl. The Horse Talisman, able to restore flesh to bare bones, yet devouring souls and corroding spirits. The Talismans were deadly weapons, and Lin Shendu was the madman wielding them.

The shamans of the Qing court sought to extract his soul and refine his bones. Wild spirits beyond the passes coveted his skin for their rituals. Taoist sects in the Central Plains cried out to vanquish the demon and defend the Way. Western missionaries secretly plotted to destroy the holy. The Ming court saw him as a vicious attack dog.

Get out of my way, all of you! One kick shattered a massive siege ram. His molten-gold eyes burned a thousand horsemen to ash. Wherever he went, mountains of corpses and rivers of blood paved the road.

In this chaotic age, gods and Buddhas block the way? Demons and monsters stand in his path? One punch, and they’re reduced to dust!