Retired Leaders, Hard-Core Infiltrators of the Ming Dynasty

We once thought that superior firepower would be enough to keep us alive in the Ming Dynasty.

Until pirate blood stained the beach, and we realized that weapons could win battles, but they couldn’t guarantee survival.

True survival meant hunting in a game without rules, beneath Guangzhou’s glittering surface, among a web of entrenched interest groups. We brought glass, liquor, and carefully crafted lies. We sold hope, and we manufactured despair.

The old accountant’s ledger became the sharpest blade. The retired detective used his methods to frame and manipulate people. The former CEO’s games of capital brought century-old clans crashing down overnight.

Meanwhile, back at our Hainan base, another, more covert transformation was underway. With discipline and dreams, we mass-produced “new people” who belonged to us alone.

This is no pastoral idyll for transmigrators. It is a desperate struggle by a group of modern old folks under the law of the jungle. We wield the most civilized knowledge to carry out the most naked conquest.

Infiltration has begun. From the economy to the officialdom, and ultimately, straight into people’s hearts.