In the seventh year of the spiritual qi revival, 460 lines of golden poetry appeared in the night sky over Modu. They were the final words of Confucian scholars buried alive in 213 BC. No one knew that Ying Zheng, a takeout deliveryman, rode his “Epang Palace electric scooter” every night, delivering spicy crayfish into the barrier of a Golden Core peak villain. A QR code on the bottom of each box let him reclaim 0.01% of the Qin history that had been burned, while bringing him one step closer to the end of the “last bamboo slip.” When the 24-hour countdown reached zero, he would either burn the books once more and erase immortals from human history forever, or be written into the history books as a tyrant for all ages. This time, what he had to burn was existence itself.
