I, Yang Xiuqing, Have Returned from the Dead

On the eve of the Tianjing Incident, Eastern King Yang Xiuqing died.

No, he was reborn. For eight years, he drifted as a soul, watching helplessly as the Heavenly Kingdom collapsed and hundreds of thousands of his old comrades were hacked to pieces by Zeng the Butcher, while the poor who had placed their hopes in the kingdom starved to death during the siege of Tianjing.

Then he woke up.

After waking, Yang Xiuqing had become another man:

He no longer wanted the empty title of “Long Live.” It was useless.

He no longer fought over being “Heavenly Father’s spokesman.” It didn’t matter.

He even cast aside the pomp and ceremonial retinue of the Eastern King. They were nothing but a burden.

Hong Xiuquan was still in the palace at Tianjing, busy making incompetents “royal brothers.”

Wei Changhui was still nervously sharpening his blade, waiting for a chance to kill.

Yang Xiuqing, meanwhile, quietly left Tianjing with just fifty thousand elite troops.

He wanted only three things:

Anhui’s farmland, Anqing’s troops,

and the resolve to personally cut off Zeng Guofan’s head.

By the time Hong Xiuquan discovered that the Eastern King’s residence was empty,

Yang Xiuqing was already drilling his navy on the banks of the Yangtze.

And when Wei Changhui finally worked up the courage to raise his blade,

he found that it had nothing to cut but thin air.

Far away in Nankang Prefecture, Jiangxi,

Zeng Guofan had just received a secret report:

“Yang Xiuqing is leading fifty thousand troops straight for you.”

For the first time, the hand holding Zeng the Butcher’s pen

trembled slightly.

Someone who has already died once is the most terrifying opponent of all.

This time, who will be the one to die by the blade?