In the autumn and September of the thirty-fourth year of Kariguan, Zhao Yansheng ascended the throne.
At that moment, countless souls that resented him returned to their original positions.
"Zhao Yansheng!"
He woke up from his dream, the candle flickering.
Suddenly, Zhao Yansheng saw someone standing in front of the door.
Then something penetrated the silk window on the door and settled three inches on his forehead.
The door opened with a clang.
Zhao Yansheng took a closer look and saw that it was his central general.
The CP has not yet been determined, and the group is reborn. The protagonist is a fan who wears the original work and thinks that he is the one who always gets it.
Relying on the image of being a doormat because I feel sorry for you, I will let you attack me again, and the stupid spirit that made others doubt that I was reborn in the wrong world, I managed to survive to the end.
Logic is dead, don't read if it's a ridiculous setting.
The new pit has been dug.
Purpose: A collection of thoughts about the deposed emperor who still failed to fight the cannon fodder after his collective rebirth.
Crazy Criticism of Public Prisons