National Fortune Bonus: After the new player awakens at the maximum level, he will kill like crazy

That was the Japanese characters she wrote on the "East China Sea Map".

At this moment, the system prompt sound suddenly exploded in my mind:

[Ding Dong: Congratulations to the host, Zhao Gao's survival timeline has been corrected, and the probability of Hu Hai succeeding to the throne has been reduced to 12%]

Over the eaves of the Xianyang Palace, the morning star had not yet completely disappeared.

Su Mohui was touching the dragon pattern on the jade ring when she suddenly heard the palace maids around the corner whispering about a children's song on the street: "Penglai Island, the immortals laugh, the Great Qin ship crosses the vast ocean—"

This was the folk song she had asked the clerk to spread yesterday. Listening to it now, it unexpectedly echoed the map of the East China Sea on Ying Zheng's desk.

When passing by the Pepper Palace, she caught a glimpse of Meng Tian's personal guards escorting Zhao Gao past, and the resentment in the eunuch's eyes had turned into fear.

And in the shadow of the palace wall farther away, a figure dressed in Fusu's clothes was talking with Meng Tian. The jade pendant around his waist had the "Ding Qin" pattern that she had seen in her reincarnation.

Until this moment, at the crossroads of history, Fusu's name finally appeared for the first time in Ying Zheng's morning court proceedings.

At the hour of You, Su Mohui unfolded the newly-issued bamboo slips by Ying Zheng in the Censorate. When the pen touched the paper, the ink formed the outline of a small black bird next to the entry "Appoint Fusu as the Crown Prince".

Outside the window, the lights of Xianyang City lit up one after another, with a bit more determination than before - that was because a certain emperor finally began to believe that on the other side of the sea, there was not only the Penglai Fairy Island, but also a threat from a thousand years later that needed to be conquered in advance.

The system interface suddenly flashed before Su Mohui's eyes. [Ding Dong: New historical branch detected—]

She looked at the golden words dancing on the panel and suddenly chuckled.

When Ying Zheng smashed Zhao Gao's poison bottle in the Xuanshi Hall, and when Meng Tian's personal guard took over the imperial censor's sword, the Qin Dynasty, which had been described in history books as "destroyed after three generations", was quietly growing new roots in the jade veins of her palm.

The Qin King's sword in her sleeve was now resonating with the Tai'a sword in the distant Xianyang Palace, as if it was sounding the first passionate bell for this era of change that was about to be rewritten.

.........

The north wind carried sand and gravel from the deep Gobi Desert, scratching the mottled bluestone slabs of Hangu Pass like thousands of fine needles.

Su Mohui gripped the bronze armrest of the chariot tightly, and the cold touch spread along her fingertips. The wind lifted a corner of the Great Wall defense map drawn by Meng Tian on the shaft of the chariot, revealing the tiny calligraphy that read "Improvement Plan for Jiuyuan Beacon Tower".

The jade-jointed coiled dragon pattern embroidered on the fabric around her wrist was covered with morning frost, emitting a cold glow in the dim morning light, like a dormant dragon about to wake up.

The veins on the back of Meng Tian's hand holding the reins bulged, and the sword calluses at the base of his palm were faintly visible beneath the marks - that was the testimony of this iron-blooded general's day and night study of cavalry tactics after she had carved the key sentence of "The Art of War: Nine Changes" into the cracks of the bricks of the Great Wall in her twentieth reincarnation.

"Does the Censor have any opinion on the terrain of Jiuyuan?" Meng Tian suddenly turned his head, his hawk-like eyes sweeping over the mini Qin Wang sword slightly exposed at her waist. The blood seeping from the gaps in his armor had not yet dried, and it was obvious that he had just experienced a battle.

Su Mohui raised her hand and stroked the cinnabar-circled "Fusu" garrison mark on the map. The slightly rough texture of the parchment touched her fingertips. "General, do you know that five years ago, when the northern border was being cultivated, the young master personally led 300 soldiers in a night raid on the Xiongnu king's tent. The woman he rescued, Zhao, has now opened the first women's weaving workshop in Yunzhong County?"

She tried to test the waters, emphasizing the word "Zhao girl" deliberately, and watched Meng Tian's tightly furrowed brows suddenly relax. An imperceptible touch of emotion flashed in the eyes of this usually stern general - his mother was the daughter of a declining nobleman of the State of Zhao.

The two of them stopped talking, but in silence, their trust in each other increased.

When the dusk stained the Yinshan Mountains like thick ink, the smoke from the Jiuyuan camp rose on time, mixed with the burnt smell of burning wolf dung and rushed straight into the sky.

Su Mohui walked into the central military tent on knee-deep snow. The scent of mugwort mixed with pine resin hit her face, which was completely different from the historical records that "Fusu was fond of Confucianism, and there were only "Book of Songs" and "Book of Documents" in the tent."

His desk was piled high with densely annotated copies of "The Book of Lord Shang", and next to the annotations was a drawing of the design of her improved triangular crossbow arrow.

On the weapon rack in the corner, next to the cold bronze sword, there stood three wooden crossbow prototypes. The cowhide rope wrapped around the bowstring was the moisture-proof treatment technology that she had presented to Ying Zheng not long ago.

As the candlelight flickered, a thin figure slowly stood up from behind the desk.

Fusu was wearing a black battle robe that was washed to a pale color. The woolen cloak he wore on the outside was patched with patches but with fine stitching. The frayed hem of his robe was stained with the juice of the red willows unique to the northern border.

The corners of his eyes were red as if he was crying blood, but it couldn't hide the burning light in his eyes. His tall nose cast a sharp shadow under the light and shadow, and his thin lips were tightly pursed with an innate majesty.

Those bony hands, with the elegance of holding a pen to annotate classics, and the thin calluses left by years of sword-holding and martial arts practice, were now gently stroking the blood-stained map on the desk.

"Sir, are you from Xianyang?" His voice was low and hoarse, carrying the vicissitudes of life tempered by the cold wind of the northern border, but the last syllable unconsciously revealed his attachment to his hometown.

When he turned around, Su Mohui noticed that his straight back was as tall as a pine tree. Even though he was thin, he exuded an aura that no one could underestimate.

The fine wheat-ear embroidery on his cuffs swayed slightly with his movements. It was clearly her original design when she incorporated the traditional patterns of the State of Zhao into the "Encouraging Agriculture Picture" in her reincarnation. Now it shone with a different brilliance on the young man's clothes.

It turns out that seeds had already sprouted secretly in the dust of history.

Su Mohui nodded and was about to speak when she heard the sound of metal collision suddenly piercing the tent!

Immediately afterwards, three poisoned crossbow bolts pierced the tent, their purple powder on the tail feathers creating a strange mist in the air. Fusu reacted with remarkable speed, instantly grabbing the bronze sword on the table to block it. The sword and the crossbow bolt collided with a sharp clang.

Su Mohui instinctively threw out the crossbow needle from her sleeve and at the same time leaned sideways towards the desk. Two of the pearl hairpins in her hair were cut off by the arrow and rolled on the ground with a crisp sound.

When the personal guards brought the assassins into the tent, the leader was seen wearing a jade pendant around his neck that was engraved with the Chinese character "Zhao", which was exactly the same as the seal in the secret compartment of Zhao Gao's study.

"Father finally sent the Supervisory Censor. Fusu, I apologize for your impoliteness." Fusu chuckled softly, his fingertips tracing the blood-stained map on the desk. The candlelight cast a dancing shadow under his eyes. "However, the stitching technique of the dragon pattern on your sleeves is quite similar to the Shu embroidery my mother taught me."

When he said this, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips. His expression showed that he understood the situation clearly, but also contained a hint of nostalgia for his old friend.

Su Mohui shuddered all over. The scene of Ying Zheng's first wife, Zhao Ji, teaching her embroidery in Handan City twenty years ago flashed through her mind like lightning.

This young man, who was defined as "benevolent and cowardly" in history books, was able to see through even this secret memory.