Reborn at the End of Qin, I Lay the Foundations of Han

On a snowy day, Xin Yu was delivering takeout when a car hit him and killed him.

When he opened his eyes again, he had somehow returned to the twenty-ninth year of Qin Shi Huang’s reign, reborn as an old beggar beside the reeds of Bolangsha.

No System. No golden finger.

Before he could even get his bearings, they were dragging him off to be beheaded. At the last moment, he drew on what little history he remembered and advised the First Emperor to bring several spare carriages.

Sure enough, the iron projectile at Bolangsha struck the wrong target. He saved the First Emperor’s life, and his own.

He thought he might manage to scrape by, but before he could catch his breath, Zhao Gao sent men to kill him.

Dozens of refugees were slaughtered in the blink of an eye, until only a few remained.

Blood stained the roots of the reeds.

Looking at the bodies, each life as worthless as a blade of grass, Xin Yu finally understood: in this world, if you don’t eat people, they’ll eat you.

Then none of us will live!

He gathered the surviving refugees around him, clinging together like the reeds.

They had no soldiers, no provisions, only a mind from two thousand years in the future and a band of brothers who feared nothing, not even death.

The princes and nobles had no idea that an old beggar starving to death in the reed marshes was changing their fates, stroke by stroke.

Reeds may look fragile, but the harder the wind blows, the less they bend.

The first crack in the Great Qin’s wall of bronze and iron began with a single reed.