The good news: I transmigrated and became an emperor.
The bad news: I transmigrated into Xiao Yan, Emperor Wu of the Southern Liang, who’s over eighty and so close to death he’s practically got dirt up to his eyebrows.
The even worse news: No System, no golden finger, and not even the faintest trace of the original owner’s memories.
Should I wait to die, or do something? That is the question.
From the start, all I wanted was a peaceful end, but step by step, I brought three hundred years of division to a close.
How?
With wild penicillin, homemade salicylic acid, bargain-basement grenades, and cannons made with crude methods.
And, more importantly, with the Southern Dynasties’ equal-field system, the Medieval Trade Bureau, the Jiangzuo Iron Pagoda Corps, and the Xiao Clan’s Beiwei Army.
Ten years later, Yuwen Tai, Gao Yang, Chen Baxian, Yang Zhong, and Li Hu, the heroes of their age, would never have imagined that a little joke from Heaven would keep the era that should have belonged to them from ever arriving.
The lands of Jiuzhou had been brought under the thumb of an old man old enough to be their grandfather!
