I, a modern all-round special soldier, woke up and became a beggar in troubled times. He was left with broken bowls, tattered clothes, and scars all over his body. He was even stepped on and spat on by gangsters in the street. They say this is fate, but I say this is called opening. Use military knowledge to sneak into the military camp, rely on modern management to conquer the refugees, and use celestial predictions to harvest people's hearts - while everyone is still playing tricks, I have already launched special operations and blitzkrieg. The imperial master next door made a fortune: the purple star is dim, and a new emperor will rise. The emperor sneered: Does a beggar want to overthrow the world? I patted the phalanx of 100,000 elite soldiers and catapults behind me: Your Majesty, times have changed. When I crush aristocratic families step by step, annex the princes, and trample the country under my feet with my own hands, the young man who once begged for food in the mud will eventually be crowned the supreme emperor.
