In the spring of the twenty-fifth year of Hongwu, the sun of the Ming Empire suddenly fell - Prince Zhu Biao passed away.
The mourning bell has not yet stopped, but the undercurrent has arrived.
The vassal kings and the emperor's grandsons who returned to the capital for mourning had a sharp edge that did not belong to this era quietly flowing in their eyes:
When the King of Qin was talking and laughing, he was as angry as a tiger swallowing thousands of miles;
When the King of Jin hangs his head, his plans are as deep as Jiuquan;
King Yan held a frightening "future" in his clenched fist;
As for the seemingly benevolent grandson, his pen has been filled with intense frost...
On the dragon chair, Zhu Yuanzhang slowly wiped away the last drop of his father's tears from the corners of his eyes.
His turbid and sharp gaze, like a Hongwu guillotine, swept inch by inch over the "flesh and blood relatives" kneeling in the hall.
It turns out that the people sitting on the gambling table of this battle for the right to inherit the throne are no longer his children and grandchildren.
But - Li Shimin, Sima Yi, Liu Che, Yongzheng... And Zhu Di who knew history.
When a group of imperial souls who once dominated their respective eras met on a narrow road in the Hongwu court,
When the founding hero faced a group of "strangers" with the faces of his closest relatives,
Is the Ming Dynasty overthrown, or is it the surrender of all souls?
"In our territory, if it's a dragon, you have to curl up; if it's a tiger, you have to lie down."
——Zhu Yuanzhang
