When I traveled through time and became an unknown soldier under the beacon fire, I had just recovered half of my life from the rebels' butcher's knife.
He only had half a piece of broken armor on his body, and a broken copper sword hung on his waist, but his mind contained two thousand years of ups and downs.
They laugh at me crazy:
When I was drawing "Plowing and War Strategies" on bamboo slips in the mountains, the old centurion spat: "Is it true that the subordinate soldiers are qualified to talk about well fields?"
When I built the first pottery kiln in the defeated army camp, the nobles' chariots and cavalry trampled the adobe to pieces: "The bones of humble people are only used to fill gullies."
When I picked up the bloody Jiuding fragments in the ruins of the ancestral temple, Emperor Zhou's last curse was: "Those who transgress will be punished by heaven."
But they don't understand——
This era of broken rites and broken music is the battlefield I am most familiar with.
I saw through Zheng Boduan's hypocrisy, figured out the food path for Qi and Chu to fight for hegemony, and even before the blood moon rose in Changping, I replaced the papermaking technique with three thousand iron armors.
It took me three years to go from being a soldier to being a soldier.
It took me five battles to go from being a scholar-official to becoming a king.
And from Beidi Bianjun to Jiuding Wenzhong, the whole world has become my chessboard——
Until that day, I am stationed on the shore of the Malo River.
Behind him are the dark armored warriors, and in front of them are the trembling three ministers of the Zhou Dynasty.
The nobleman who once trampled my pottery kiln fell down in the mud and respected me with a trembling voice: "Your Majesty..."
I raised my hand and pointed at the slumped Haojing Palace in the dusk:
"Preach to the world: Zhou's virtue has declined, Xuan Gui should be established."
"Those who don't follow -"
The broken copper sword at my waist, which had been with me for thirteen years, gave off a scarlet light in the setting sun.
This is the journey of the time traveler, and it is also the death knell of the old era ·
When etiquette and music completely collapse, whoever holds the sword will become the new etiquette·
