My name is Ying Qingmo, the eleventh daughter of Qin Shi Huang, and the last high priest of the Yin Yang family. In order to avoid being pursued by Qin II, I activated the forbidden technique, and when I opened my eyes again, I was lying in an ancient tomb a thousand years later. There were three men in front of him, one was naive, one was talkative, and the other was as silent as a stone. Later, in front of the bronze door, the silent man grabbed my hand. I held his cold fingers with my backhand, just like I held the blood-stained Yin-Yang jade pendant when Li Shan escaped two thousand years ago. "Zhang Qiling," I said, "the years I have traveled are no shorter than yours."
