Zhao Yuanqing, a graduate student in history, transmigrated into the body of a seventy-something-year-old landowner in western Henan in 1942.
Henan was in the grip of drought and famine, and the Japanese were sweeping through the area. The several concubines in his household were all hoping he would kick the bucket soon.
Damn it! Wolves ahead, tigers behind, natural disasters and man-made calamities. I'm done being a landlord. Anyone who wants the job can have it.
Fortunately, the little silver pot he carried could both store things and fight: it killed people and drank their souls, returning their strength to him, while containing a world of its own. Without hesitation, Zhao Yuanqing sold off all his property, set traps to fleece every major landowner in the county, and fled south overnight with the money.
Along the way, he killed Japanese troops, joined the guerrillas, and ventured into Shanghai. As the silver pot advanced, the Japanese trembled at the mere mention of him.
From western Henan to Hong Kong, beneath the guise of a
