In the sixth year of the Yongli reign, outside Guilin, the ground is thick with blood and mud.
A military history buff from a later age wakes up as Li Dingguo, Prince of Jin of the Southern Ming.
By now, the Ming dynasty controls little more than a fragment of its former realm. The Yongli court is riven by infighting, Sun Kewang watches like a tiger poised to pounce, Kong Youde holds Guilin, and Qing cavalry is steadily advancing south.
He has no System, no divine army, and no weapons factory conjured out of thin air.
All he has are battered troops, dwindling rations, casualty lists, gunpowder accounts, and fragmented memories of the future.
Starting beneath the walls of Guilin, the first thing he must do is not claim the throne or accept a noble title.
It is to make this army, caught in an age of chaos, remember what military orders mean, what it means to fight for the rightful emperor, and what it means to survive.
Kong Youde is determined to hold Guilin, the Qing court wants to destroy the Southern Ming, and the princes at court each have their own schemes.
Li Dingguo grips the hilt of his sword and looks at the Qing banners atop the city wall. He says only:
“The Southern Ming may fall, but it must not fall like this.”
