I’d Just Driven Off the Enemy When They Threw Me in Prison

I hear you have a head upon your shoulders, hideously ugly and offensive to the eye! Tonight, I'll come for it beneath the moon!”

This was the letter Qin Yu wrote to Shen Zhong, commander of the Demon Race's Third Army.

The handwriting was awful. But after reading it, Shen Zhong smashed his command desk.

Three days later, Qin Yu walked into Shen Zhong's tent carrying a jug of wine.

When the wine was gone, the blade came out.

Clutching the bloody line across his throat, Shen Zhong spoke his final words:

“What a beautiful blade...”

That was Qin Yu.

He would order four dishes and a soup in death row, copy popular fiction on the battlefield, and drink with people in enemy tents.

The soldiers under his command were the empire's lowest-ranking convicts.

His opponents were the strongest army on the continent.

His superiors, from the empire's chancellor to the Inspectorate, all wanted him dead.

But he still came back alive.

With an army of thirty thousand, the heads of a hundred thousand enemy soldiers, and the hearts of a million people in the Far East.

The history books recorded just one sentence:

“Pillar of the Great Qin, the Far East's Great Wall: Qin Yu alone.”