Great Ming: I Transmigrated as the Chongzhen Emperor and Mastered the Sword on Coal Hill to Repel the Enemy

On the nineteenth day of the third month of the seventeenth year of Chongzhen, the rebel army breached Beijing. In front of the Shouhuang Pavilion on Coal Hill, a white silk noose was already tied.

Zhu Youjian, whose soul had traveled back in time, looked at the rebel soldiers swarming up the hill. Rather than meet his death, he drew the Longquan sword at his waist, a blade that had never tasted blood.

Seventeen years of imperial frustration, a shattered realm stretching ten thousand li, and the anguished cries of hundreds of millions of people all gathered into that three-foot blade.

He struck once, and the sword energy split stone, decapitating every vanguard soldier of the rebel army.

From then on, the Ming Dynasty had an emperor who wielded a sword.

Corrupt officials? One stroke, and they were executed, their estates seized to fund the army.

Rebel bandits and roving outlaws? Wherever his sword pointed, a million troops scattered.

The Eight Banners beyond the passes? Before Shanhai Pass, his sword energy filled the sky, letting the barbarians know the might of the Ming.

As the nation’s fortunes rose, his sword intent grew stronger. As the realm was reclaimed, dragon patterns shone on his blade.

In this crumbling, chaotic late-Ming world, I shall slash my way to a new dawn and a golden age of peace!