I transmigrated into the Opium War as a supply officer on the front lines. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw an imperial commissioner worshipping a fox spirit.
Meanwhile, the British fleet’s cannons were already aimed at Humen.
I tossed aside the account books and spent the night drawing up A Modern Artillery Training Manual and A Guide to Making Nitroglycerin with Simple Methods.
While Yijing was still dreaming of summoning “heavenly soldiers,” the five hundred local volunteers under my command had already sunk the British vanguard ship with improved mountain-splitting cannons.
When the emperor’s commendation arrived, I was holding a public trial for my superior, who had embezzled military pay.
“My lord,” I murmured toward the Forbidden City, “it’s time for the age to change.”
