I, the prince of the subjugated Dasheng Dynasty, am now a slave with a death contract signed by the landlord of Daliuzhuang. A national jade seal? That thing is now my golden finger and the black hole in my brain. Want to make a repeating crossbow? Okay, I'll trade it with your mother's face. Want to recreate a steam engine? Okay, hand over the name of your first love. Every time I lose my memory, I don't know what I am doing, but the villagers said that I made a new type of seeder overnight last night. Are the bandits coming? I turn on the cannon. Blackmail by corrupt officials? I'll make a financial statement and let him reveal it himself. The Canglang tribe is knocking on the door? I will build a highway for them and set up a toll station at the Dasheng border. But the Mo family's rules of heaven are so disgusting - as long as I improve a piece of equipment, ideas for upgrading will pop up in the minds of mechanics all over the world. As a result, corrupt officials began to engage in water conservancy projects, vassal kings began to engage in ordnance, and even the archenemy Canglang King began to engage in livestock machinery. It's okay, let them copy it. Anyway, they copied the first generation, and after I lost my memory, I jumped directly to the third generation. There's only one thing I haven't forgotten: that life-and-death slave contract can be burned if there are only 100 points left in the hearts of the people. But when I woke up this morning, I found a letter written by a strange woman on my bedside - "Gu Laosan, you said last night that you wanted to marry me." I don't even remember my own fucking name, where did I get my fiancée from?
His head felt like it had been smashed open with a hammer, and a pot of boiling lead water was poured into it.
I opened my eyes and saw a dilapidated shack roof with thatch mixed with mud. Rain dripped from the cracks and hit my forehead, which was cold.
The severe pain in the back of my head made me subconsciously want to reach out and touch it. As soon as I raised my wrist, the slave mark was like being stabbed by a red-hot iron bar, which hurt me so much.
