In the Zhangtai Hall of Xianyang Palace, the candlelight flickered, and the old ministers came out to kneel and remonstrate, saying that the young master should not supervise the country because it was against the ancestral system. Ying Zheng slapped the case and scolded him as a corrupt scholar and an imbecile, and waved his hand to summon the Iron Eagle warriors to drag him out and behead him. I stood in the shadow in the corner of the hall in white clothes without moving. In my mind, the national luck system had just finished charging. When Furu was dragged across the threshold, he was still shouting that the Qin Dynasty would die in the second generation. My fingertips moved slightly, feeling the power that had been dormant for many years in my body. Sixteen years of pretending to be mute have come to an end today.
