Cao Cao? It's a Pity That I Am Liu Xiu!

Emperor Guangwu Liu Xiu passed away. Sixty-two years old, reigning for thirty-two years. When he closed his eyes, the last thought in his mind was not about the country, the order of Dutian, or the twenty-eight generals of Yuntai. It's because the lights haven't been put out yet, and I forgot to ask someone to hold the lights. Then he woke up. Kneeling in a strange mourning hall, my body turned into that of a nine-year-old child. There is no callus on the hand to hold the knife, and there is no scar from the bowstring in the tiger's mouth. Some people were crying, some called him "King Chenliu", some called him "Xie'er". It took him a long time to figure out one thing - he was attending the funeral of one of his descendants. The big man is not dead yet. But soon. This was the first time Liu Xiu discovered that conquering the world and saving the world were not the same difficulty at all. He has no "system", no memory of future generations, and does not know who will be Cao Cao and who will be Dong Zhuo. He only knew one thing: a founding emperor would never remain a puppet in the dynasty he created for the rest of his life. Even if this body is only nine years old, even if no one in the whole court knows him. Welcome to Luoyang after the second year of Jianwu Zhongyuan. The palaces here are still Han-made palaces, the sacrificial vessels are still Han-made sacrificial vessels, and the dragon pattern is still three-toed. Nothing seems to have changed. It's just that the people sitting on the dragon throne are no longer his descendants - and soon they will no longer have the surname Liu. He wants to start from scratch. Start by identifying the people around you, start by observing everyone's kneeling posture and standing position, start by asking around the corner "who is He Jin" and "who is Jian Shuo". There is no God's perspective, no omniscient plug-in. He looks