The day Ling Pojun died, he shielded thirty thousand comrades from a hundred thousand Northern Di pursuers.
When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't in the underworld. The sky was gray-yellow, the stench of rotting flesh filled the air, and a mutated dog covered in oozing sores was staring at him, drooling. A scavenger named Lin Mo had died in the wasteland, and Ling Pojun had returned to life in his body.
In his previous life, he spent twenty years at war, mastering the art of condensing qi into a protective aura and becoming a match for ten thousand men. Now he had to start over. His meridians were completely empty, and he couldn't even beat an F-rank mutated rat.
But a general is still a general.
He crawled out of an abandoned shipping container in the outer ring of Ironwall City, picked up an iron rod, and led a few thugs who'd wanted to kill him out of the city. A month later, those thugs had become his first soldiers.
In this apocalypse, some awakened powers to control fire and conjure ice, while others hid in fortresses, barely clinging to life. Ling Pojun chose neither path. He combined a fragment of the Primordial Unity Art he'd brought from his previous life with the energy of apocalypse crystal cores, refining “Martial Dao True Qi,” something this world had never seen before.
He also ended up bound to a System called [Pojun's Art of War].
The System said: “Kill mutated creatures to earn soldier soul points. Use them to devise tactics, forge divine weapons, and train elite troops.”
Ling Pojun said, “Fine.”
From Ironwall City to the wasteland, from the wasteland to building a city, and from building a city to founding a nation. By the time the apocalypse's three great powers caught on, the “Pojun Banner” of Northern Frontier Fortress had already spread across half the map.
Five women entered his tent, one after another. One went from doubting him to following him. One fell for him while studying his blood samples. One saw him as her only source of support in the wasteland. One set aside her pride as an empress just to stand by his side. One had waited for him in a sealed chamber for three hundred years.
Each had her own reason for staying.
