227 BC, winter, Xianyang Palace.
Jing Ke leaned against the copper pillar.
Coughing blood, he counted the wounds on his body - eight swords.
His Majesty the King of Qin just flicked his cuffs without losing his breath.
The most famous assassination in history, the damage calculated is:
Jing Ke was scrapped on the spot, but Ying Zheng was fully healed and uninjured.
The dagger stabbed an inch before his throat, and a golden halo appeared out of thin air.
The killing sword that he cultivated throughout his life did not hit flesh and blood, but a sacred mountain that crushed all living beings.
"That's it..."
Jing Ke coughed out the last mouthful of blood,
"Prince Dan wants the name, Ying Zheng wants the world. Only I am the unlucky guy who was pushed out to die."
Before his consciousness sank into darkness, he swore:
If there is an afterlife,
Damn it, the warrior is gone and never comes back!
I just want to hide far away, raise worms, drink tea, and live peacefully until I die of old age!
…
When I opened my eyes again, I was back twenty years ago.
The first day that Ying Zheng ascended the throne.
A crazy edict spread throughout the world:
Anyone with "Ke" in their name will be killed without mercy.
For a time, heads were rolling in and the street was stained with blood.
He woke up and lay on the soft couch in General Jing's mansion. Looking at his young and intact hands, he was stunned at first, and then couldn't help laughing.
This time, he is no longer Jing Ke.
He is Jing Chen.
The only goal now is to live until eternity.
