The Eve of Jiashen

In the fifteenth year of Chongzhen, the Songjin War came to an end. Hong Chengchou surrendered to the Qing Dynasty, Zu Dashou surrendered to the Qing Dynasty, and the 130,000 elite border troops were all lost. The Ming Dynasty stood on the edge of a cliff, and the final collapse written in the history books was still two years away. Shen Lie, commander-in-chief of Liaodong's defeated troops. Three years ago, the soul of a modern military blogger fell into this body. He saw the blood of Songshan, stepped on the frozen black corpses, crawled out of the pile of dead with a dozen remaining soldiers, and evacuated to Denglai by sea. He understands firearms, formations, and how to keep a group of hungry soldiers standing in a row without escaping. Gu Yan, a poor boy in Qingzhou Prefecture. Five years ago, the soul of a modern graduate student fell on this scholar. He tried the imperial examination, taught, and organized the villagers to protect themselves between the squires and the bandits. The two met at a mass grave. One came from the north, carrying firearms and broken troops; the other was waiting from the south, burning a straight wisp of wolf smoke. They all knew what would happen in 1644. But they don't know whether their butterfly effect will make history worse. They don't even know that when two modern minds try to rebuild order on the ruins of the late Ming Dynasty, the biggest enemy is not Li Zicheng or Dorgon, but the rotten system itself's instinct to strangle any "exceptions".