Reborn in the Body of Han Xin, the God of War, I Begin by Dividing the Realm in Three

Han Dazhi, a 33-year-old food-delivery rider, ran a red light on a rainy night. When he opened his eyes, he had become Han Xin, lying on the bed of the former King of Qi. The victory at the Wei River had just been won, but his royal title had yet to arrive. The bell that would toll his death at Weiyang Palace was still seven years away. His strategist advised him: divide the realm into three and rule as one of its three powers. He smiled. “Three parts? That’s just the starting price.” He wanted the whole realm. But no one expected him to pursue it in an even crazier way. Liu Bang’s tiger tally could take his troops, but not the military achievements carved onto bamboo slips. Xiang Yu’s blade could be swift, but not as swift as the Chu songs that scattered a hundred thousand Chu soldiers in a single night. Empress Lu’s poison could be deadly, but not as deep-reaching as his plan to turn the “Han” banner from the flag of one family into the flag of all under heaven. He would never become emperor or accept the honor of the Nine Bestowments. From Linzi to Korea, from the grasslands to Rome, he would advance step by step, building roads as he went. Anyone who followed Han laws, spoke Han, ate Han grain, and recognized the Han banner would be Han. In his previous life, someone gave him a hot meal. He remembered it for the rest of his life. In this life, he would deliver one order to the whole world: on time, guaranteed. Signed for by all under heaven. (About 400 words in total)