He transmigrated into Ying Ziying, the Third Qin Emperor, just three days after he ascended the throne.
Zhao Gao clutched the imperial decree deposing the emperor, with a blade already at Ying Ziying’s throat. Liu Bang’s twenty thousand elite troops had breached Wuguan, the Lantian camp was on the verge of collapse, and panic had seized Xianyang.
Forty-six days until the fall of the empire?
Lin Mo, a military engineer, scoffed.
If technology could turn the tide, then this was no hopeless situation.
Granulated gunpowder and thunderclap bombs left Cao Shen’s vanguard strewn across the battlefield.
High-bridge saddles and double stirrups let three hundred light cavalry rout twenty thousand infantry.
With the crucible steel method, powerful crossbows could be mass-produced, while the workshops worked day and night to restore the ironclad might of Qin’s elite soldiers.
The twelve golden statues in the First Emperor’s tomb, the Mohists’ lost mechanical arts, the secret treasures of celestial stones scattered across the land...
What others saw as ancient legends, he saw as ready-made industrial marvels.
Xiang Yu’s ferocity? Liu Bang’s patience? The scheming nobles of the Six States?
In this life, wherever the Black Bird banner flies, the land belongs to Qin.
