After the system set its sights on the dragon throne, the princess started courting death every day.

In ancient times, when individual cold weapons were used in combat, the only way to defeat modern firearms with their wide-ranging destructive power was to sacrifice countless lives in the process, ultimately achieving a most devastating victory.

This is not a prediction, nor an imagination; the Republic of China in modern times is the most real example.

Xiang An knew perfectly well how to seize the throne of Empress, but she was unwilling to use it. She came from a place where peace was bought with human lives, so how could she let the already peaceful Yuan Kingdom fall into a situation where human lives were bought?

Such a coercive task from the system shouldn't exist, and even if it does, it shouldn't be happening to a transmigrator like her.

"System, you've assigned the wrong task to the wrong person." Xiang An sighed softly, "I was wrong too."

She shouldn't have acted rashly and killed the emperor in a fit of anger, thinking she could start over. If she could start over, she definitely wouldn't do something so thoughtless.

[This system never makes a mistake!] The system's mechanical voice carried an unspoken certainty. [You must complete this mission! If you fail...]

"how?"

He raised an eyebrow, and a rare, deliberate, malicious provocation appeared in his usually dull eyes.

You'll definitely regret this!

"You've said this many times, try something new."

Those who have not performed great deeds are not qualified to receive the mercy of Heaven.

"A person of great merit?" Xiang An scoffed casually.

"If I was truly a person of great merit in my past life, it must mean I was a very good person. In that case, you should send me back now so that good people can live a life of plenty, indulging in pleasure and revelry every night, instead of sending me to such a strange place."

The only way—complete the mission.

"Fine, I'll get it done," Xiang An sneered. "I'd like to see what you're up to."

As he finished speaking, Xiang An lowered his head and took one last look at the capital city beneath his feet—

Zhang Yicheng gathered strong men in the city, each armed with sticks and knives, and they began to beat the guards at the gate. Ren Xueqing, Liang Xi, and others sent messages by carrier pigeon, and a large number of secret guards and assassins gradually gathered.

On the highest point of the palace, the Star-Picking Tower, a figure in bright yellow stood with his hands behind his back, gazing into the distance. Behind him were two people: one standing with his back bent and head bowed, and the other sitting slumped in a wheelchair, seemingly talking about something. The figure looked somewhat familiar, but Xiang An was too tired to go and find out.

Too far away, too limited in vision, the world descends into chaos, and the outcome is already predictable.

A strong wind blew up, relieving Xiang An of her strength. Her light body moved with the wind, going wherever it went and stopping wherever it stopped, just as the wind had now brought her to this desolate cemetery.

In fact, this place cannot be called a cemetery; the entire hill is covered with graves, and it is more appropriate to call it a mass burial ground.

Thick snow covered the graves all over the mountain, and the orange-red sunset shone brightly on the snow, its golden light reflecting off the ground like the light of Buddha.

After circling the hilltop, Xiang An spotted a south-facing grave with an empty space in front of it, a bare five-finger peach tree growing beside it, and an empty grave mound with the coffin lid half-open.

He lay down in the coffin; it was just the right size, not too big, not too small.

Xiang An was satisfied. She clasped her hands together on her lower abdomen and peacefully closed her eyes.

It's strange, really. After being dead for so long and having his soul wander around for so long, his once energetic body suddenly became strangely tired and exhausted as soon as he lay down in this strange coffin.

He opened his eyes drowsily, not because he had slept enough and woke up naturally—someone was digging up his coffin.

The hoe, bigger than an adult's palm, dug the soil quickly and efficiently, and in no time, the entire coffin was dug out intact.

With many hands lifting and carrying, it took a lot of effort to finally lift the coffin and Xiang An, who was still in a dazed state inside, out of the pit.

Caught off guard and seeing the light of day again, Xiang An was fully awake: a tomb raider?

Looking at the coffin she was lying in, broken and rotten, she was stunned: In this day and age, people are even robbing broken coffins?

"You...you...you bunch of poor bastards! Open your eyes and see clearly! This is a broken coffin! Empty! Empty!! A godforsaken grave!! There's not a hair on it, what's there to dig up?! Are you digging for air? Or are you in such a hurry to die and find a place to be reincarnated? And you're not even reincarnating early, just waiting for the original country to perish, so you can all be stuffed into the underworld and line up to drink soup!?"

They wouldn't let her die peacefully; they even dug her out of her coffin before she was even in it.

After a fit of angry and useless cursing, Xiang An finally vented his resentment and calmed down a bit. Suddenly, he noticed that the sun was shining brightly, the snow was melting, the spring breeze was gentle, and short, tender green grass sprouted from the barren black soil.

It turns out that the cold winter has passed and spring has arrived.

"That's enough, everyone stop." The burly man leading the digging stopped swinging his hoe, wiping the sweat from his brow with his patched sleeve. "Bring General Fu and his family over."

"Yes." Everyone stopped and began to descend the mountain, their steps uneven.

Upon hearing this, Xiang An, sitting in the coffin, froze like a statue: "General Fu's family... Fu Qing's innocence?"

Xiang An couldn't believe it, yet he had no choice but to believe it: there was only one Fu family in the capital, and if it wasn't Fu Qingbai's family, then whose family was it?

The bodies placed at the foot of the mountain were quickly carried up by the crowd and neatly arranged together. There were a total of sixteen bodies, mostly female. The oldest body had completely white hair, and the youngest was six or seven years old.

"Dead, all dead." Xiang An gazed at the heavily decomposed bodies on the ground, indistinguishable from one another, and murmured calmly, "It's good that they're dead...it's good that they're dead..."

The numerous corpses lay side by side, their stench overwhelming. The men carrying the bodies wore expressions of utter disgust. Some tried to slack off several times along the way, but the high sums of money offered by the employer prevented them from giving up. So they simply covered their mouths and noses with a tattered piece of coarse cloth.

The body was extremely heavy after death, and the mountain road was muddy and difficult to navigate due to the recent snowmelt. By the time the body was moved, everyone was panting heavily.

"Have they all been moved up?"

In the distance, Qi Yuanshi walked slowly, the hem of his blue clothes brushing against the tips of the low-lying weeds by the roadside, instantly wetting a patch of grass.

The people who were resting on the rocks hurriedly stood up and bowed, saying, "Honorable sir, everything has been brought up, and we are just waiting for your command."

Qi Yuanshi bent down and patted the hem of his clothes, which were soaked by the snow water. His delicate eyebrows furrowed slightly, and he waved his hand impatiently: "Bury it."

"Yes."

Everyone agreed in unison and immediately got to work.

One by one, the corpses were lowered into the pit. Just as only one corpse remained, Qi Yuanshi, who was diligently wiping the snow water off his clothes, suddenly spoke up: "Leave that one."

It was a male corpse without arms, dressed in a white coarse prison uniform, but draped with a fine cloak. He was soaking wet, and there were still small pieces of ice and snow that had not yet melted on the collar, as if he had just been dug out of the snow in a hurry.

The crowd looked at him with suspicion, exchanged glances, and no one dared to question him, so they lowered their heads and continued their work.

Xiang An slowly floated to the corpse she left behind. Staring at the face of the body, which was soaked beyond recognition by the snow water, she felt no fear. Although Qi Yuanshi did not say who he was, she had inexplicably and blindly known the answer in her heart.