Great Ming: I, Li Shi, Son of Li Dingguo, Strike Back and Destroy the Qing

I was a fencing champion who read the history of the Southern Ming and got so furious I coughed up blood and died.

When I woke up, I was Li Shi, the third son of Li Dingguo.

At that moment, the last emperor of the Ming had been captured by Wu Sangui and imprisoned in Kunming;

my father, Li Dingguo, was bedridden, coughing blood and on the brink of death;

three hundred thousand Ming soldiers and civilians were leaderless, being hunted by Qing forces along the Yunnan-Burma border.

In another month, the Yongli Emperor would be strangled by Wu Sangui; my father, Li Dingguo, would die of illness, and my elder brother would surrender to the Qing.

Three months after that, Zheng Chenggong would die, and the Southern Ming would be on its last legs.

Everyone was waiting to die.

But I refused.

I formed a sixteen-man suicide squad in the army and named it the Warwolves.

They were boys aged sixteen or seventeen, battle-hardened and loyal to strength alone, not princes or nobles.

I told them one thing:

“I’m going to Kunming to rescue the emperor and bring glory back to China.”

Everyone in the army said I was crazy.

My father, Li Dingguo, lay on his sickbed and gazed at me for a long time. Then he said just one word:

“Go.”

I swore a solemn military oath: if I failed to rescue the emperor, I would bring my head back to him.

I am Li Shi.

This time, I won’t read history.

I’ll rewrite it.