The 19th Century: Qin Shi Huang Returns

The day Jinling fell, the Yangtze ran red.

He stood atop Purple Mountain and watched Japanese soldiers trample the city walls. He watched three hundred thousand people fall in pools of blood.

He heard someone worshipping him: an old man kneeling on the ground before a wooden tablet inscribed "Spirit of the First Emperor of Great Qin."

"I am Ying Zheng."

No one believed him. But it didn't matter. He didn't need them to believe him.

He only needed them to live.

This was the wrath of the Ancestral Dragon. Two thousand years had passed, and it had never gone out.