The Conqueror Crosses the Vast Sea

The waters of the Wu River were colder than he remembered.

Leaning on his sword, Xiang Yu surveyed the Han banners surrounding him like a forest, and the faces once so familiar, now marked by greed and fear. He laughed, his voice ringing across the wilderness, then raised his sword to his neck.

“It’s not that I, Xiang Ji, couldn’t win the realm. Heaven wants me dead!”

The blade sliced through his skin, pain sharp and fleeting. Then came endless darkness and silence. He felt his soul swept into a surging torrent, as countless strange and dazzling fragments rushed toward him: iron boxes that could run, gleaming towers that pierced the clouds, and scantily clad women laughing freely beneath neon lights...

“...Wake up! Sir, are you all right?”