At the northern foot of Mount Li, the mercury river has been silent for two thousand two hundred years.
On the night when the archaeological team drilled through the last layer of soil, a second heartbeat came from the pit of the Terracotta Warriors and Horses - the first one belonged to Ying Zheng.
The mausoleum is not a tomb, but an incubation nest that he laid for himself.
When the projections of the great emperors from all over the world began to fall towards this desolate planet, when underground organizations in various countries dug out the fragments of "Qin Ji" and found the four-character annotation "The First Emperor is Not Dead"——
Ying Zheng opened his eyes from the sarcophagus, scratched the jade lines on the coffin wall with his fingernails, and spat out a mouthful of rotten dust that had accumulated for twenty-two centuries.
"Who will keep my world for me?"
This time, he will not cultivate immortality, refine elixirs, or build a house.
He wanted to personally connect the dragon veins scattered across Jiuzhou, one by one, back to the backbone of Da Qin.
