I woke up to find myself Emperor Chongzhen of the Ming Dynasty.
The good news: I was bound to a [National Destiny System]. As long as the Ming Dynasty survived, I could cling to life.
The bad news: It was now the eleventh month of Chongzhen’s second year, and Hong Taiji’s Eight Banners cavalry had already reached the gates of Beijing.
At court, factions schemed against one another. Officials talked endlessly, yet could not produce even half a grain of military pay. By the city walls, the defenders were gaunt, and their blades were so rusty they could not even chop deadwood. The treasury had long been emptied. Refugees huddled by the walls, freezing and starving to death, while the shadow of the crooked tree on Coal Hill had already fallen across my imperial desk.
They were all waiting to laugh at me, the ruler of a fallen dynasty.
But I knew that seventeen years from now, I should not be the one hanged alongside this empire.
“Your Majesty, urgent report from Guangqu Gate! Hong Taiji is attacking!”
I stood and looked toward the vast, dark encampment of the Eight Banners.
Very well. Let this be the battle where it begins. I’ll make this broken empire find a way to live again.
