Reborn + System + wild imagination
Reborn in the Qin Empire as a forgotten, pitiful prince of Ying Zheng, I decisively bind a sign-in System and make a run for it. Daily check-ins reward me with divine weapons and armies: the White Horse Volunteers astonish the world, the Snowstorm Dragon Cavalry shakes the court, and even Zhuge Liang himself offers his counsel. As the list of peerless heroes remains empty, Ying Zheng laments that Qin has no worthy successors. Meanwhile, disguised as a wealthy merchant and traveling incognito, I have no idea who the man in front of me really is. I enthusiastically clap him on the shoulder and offer advice: “Brother, you’ve got the look of an emperor. How about we rebel together after Ying Zheng dies?” As I go on and on about the details of our rebellion, I suddenly notice two small characters engraved on the jade pendant at his waist: “Ying Zheng.”
Deep inside Xianyang Palace, autumn rain patters against the palace eaves, broken and crumbling. Each drop sounds like a tap on the heart, cold and bitter. The place is so remote that even the night guards can’t be bothered to take an extra step. Spiderwebs have gathered again and again in the corners of the beams, and the air reeks of damp and mildew.
Ying Xuan pulls his thin, out-of-season clothes tighter around himself, but the cold still pierces his bones like needles. The pitiful scraps on the table are hard enough to chip a tooth. He nibbles at them, while the corner of his eye keenly surveys the silent courtyard beyond the window.
A child without a mother is worth less than wild grass in the murderous Qin palace. At least the grass gets a little rain and dew; all he gets is the threat of vanishing without a trace.
[Ding! The Host’s will to survive is exceptionally strong. The “Imperial Ambition Sign-In System” has been successfully bound!]
A cold, abrupt mechanical voice explodes in his mind.
Ying Xuan stiffens. He stops chewing, but deep in his eyes...
