I Transmigrated to the Late Qing Dynasty, and From the Start, Three Thousand Swordsmen Were at My Side

Liu Hanjun was caught in a sandstorm during a border defense exercise in 2026. When he opened his eyes, he had become a low-ranking officer in Yulin City at the end of the Qing Dynasty in 1910, a man trampled underfoot by everyone. The original owner's diary contained just one sentence: “I don't want to spend my whole life being trampled underfoot.” He tucked that page into his chest and owed the original owner a life lived on his own two feet. Alone, he carried a jar of strong liquor up Hengshan. In one night, he won over three thousand bandits, who descended the mountain and joined him. In 1911, he raised a Big Dipper banner over Yulin's walls. A young female student pushed through the crowd and asked him, “Do women count?” “They do. A country with half its people missing isn't a country.” He led an expedition three thousand miles west to reclaim their homeland. On the shore of Lake Balkhash, he filled a jar with soil and sent it back to Yulin. “Tell Mother her son has won the land back for her.” Thirty-four years passed, from Yulin to Tokyo Bay. On the day of the surrender, he looked at the faded, frayed Big Dipper banner and said only one thing to the Japanese representatives: “Never come back.” On the walls of Dihua, she asked, “What do you want to do when all this is over?” “Go back to Yulin and plant two jujube trees. One for you, one for me.” Fifty years later, the trees had grown taller than the roof. She plucked a fruit and put it in her mouth. It was sweet.