I woke up to find myself in Guo Jing’s body, with the Mongol cavalry about to surround the city. I was stunned.
“Brother Jing,” Huang Rong called softly from his side. “We need provisions to defend the city, and there’s only enough food left for three months.”
Kublai Khan roared in his tent. “When did Guo Jing become some kind of demon who builds fortifications?”
Huang Rong, however, looked worried. “Brother Jing, you’ve been saying such strange things lately…”
When modern technology collides with the world of martial arts, can I defend Xiangyang?
An even greater crisis is creeping closer: Guo Jing’s original self is swallowing my memories.
