Chapter One: The Most Wretched Heir Apparent

“The heir has lost his vitality!”
“Someone, hurry!”
With the madam’s shout, the entire Emerald Immortal Pavilion shook.
Soon, a pale young man was carried onto a carriage.
“Tsk tsk, he actually played himself to death—this wastrel is doomed!”
“An heir dying in a woman’s arms, the first ever since the founding of Great Qian!”
“Great Qian’s most notorious wastrel—his reputation isn’t undeserved!”
Outside the Emerald Immortal Pavilion, the crowd jeered at the departing carriage, their ridicule unending.
The dignified eldest grandson of the Duke of South Suppression, instead of pursuing progress, spent his days indulging in brothels and finally met his end in a woman’s embrace.
Utterly absurd and laughable!

In a daze, Zhao Ang opened his eyes, feeling a splitting headache and weakness throughout his body.
“I’m not dead?”
“Five bullets to the chest and I’m still alive?”
That was Zhao Ang’s first thought upon waking.
Impossible! Those thugs were ruthless, all five shots struck fatal points, and he hadn't been wearing any body armor. He should have been a corpse.
“I feel, I have warmth—I’m not a ghost.”
“And this isn’t a dream…”
This realization filled Zhao Ang with wild joy.
A man who survived five bullets—who else but him could claim such a feat?

Just as Zhao Ang was basking in his own luck, he suddenly found his surroundings unfamiliar.
Antique bed, exquisitely carved canopy, screens rich with ancient charm, a refined treasure cabinet…
A sharp pain pierced his head, followed by a surge of unfamiliar memories flooding his mind.
Zhao Ang was utterly confused.

The door creaked open, and a crowd of elderly men with white hair and beards rushed in, each carrying a medical box.
“The heir is awake.”
“Hurry, check his condition…”
They gathered by the bed, pressing, massaging, applying acupuncture to Zhao Ang’s body.
After a series of procedures, Zhao Ang was left exhausted.
He stared blankly, ignoring them, his mind reeling as he absorbed the memories.
He had been reborn!

This was an empire called Great Qian—a country never seen in history.
The body’s former owner was the legitimate eldest grandson of the Duke of South Suppression, infamous for his debauchery, and his name was also Zhao Ang.
The Duke’s life was legendary. In his youth, he followed the emperor in conquest, personally destroying four kingdoms, earning unparalleled military honors and the title of foreign-born king!

But the cost was immense. Zhao Rong had five sons, all rare generals.
Yet generals are not spared the fate of dying in battle!
After eight wars of annihilation, all five sons fell on the battlefield; Zhao Rong barely escaped death himself—a family of martyrs.
To compensate the Zhao clan, the previous emperor defied opposition and granted Zhao Rong the title of duke, along with the office of Grand National Pillar and Minister of War—glory without equal.
Though the title “Duke of South Suppression” held no fief, his role as Minister of War made him the foremost authority in the military!

As the only heir of the Zhao family, his sole grandson, Zhao Ang, was a complete wastrel.
Neither scholarly nor martial, lacking ambition, only good at eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling—a classic case of a tiger father and a dog son.
Seeing his grandson grow older, the old duke shamelessly brought Zhao Ang into the palace, hoping to secure him a military post.
But this boy made a mess of things.

While the emperor was conferring privately with Zhao Rong, Zhao Ang snuck into the Palace of Eternal Joy, following an unparalleled beauty and secretly spiking her drink, resulting in disaster.
That beauty was no ordinary woman—she was the emperor’s most beloved youngest daughter, Princess Zhaoping!
The emperor flew into a rage, ordering Zhao Ang executed on the spot.
The old duke risked his life to save him, producing an imperial pardon that spared his life.

The emperor seized the opportunity and set conditions: the northwest war was failing, and if the Duke of South Suppression could repel the Turks, the matter would be wiped clean.
The old duke agreed, donning armor at seventy to lead the expedition west.
Three days later, news arrived: the northwest was defeated.
The old duke fell gravely ill, the Black Tiger Army was no match for the Turkish cavalry, suffering loss after loss, several cities falling, the army doomed.

Upon hearing this, the original Zhao Ang was despondent and went drinking at the Emerald Immortal Pavilion, only to be carried out.
At that moment, a graceful woman entered carrying a bowl of medicine.
She wore a flowing green dress, her figure alluring and her beauty seductive, a hint of spring hidden in her brows.
She was a charming, beautiful woman.

“Zhao, drink your medicine,” she called sweetly.
For some reason, Zhao Ang recalled the scene of Pan Jinlian feeding medicine to Wu Dalang.
Her name was Wang Xiuyun, daughter of Wang Ping, Vice Minister of Revenue.
She was also his fiancée.

Yet Zhao Ang came from a family of traditional medicine, and with one glance, he saw Wang Xiuyun was pregnant.
According to his memories, he had never touched her.
Their engagement stemmed from his obsession with another woman who looked just like her—an impulsive decision.
It was she who brought news of Zhao Rong’s defeat and illness.

“What pure herbal fragrance!”
Zhao Ang inhaled, the medicine’s aroma rich and refreshing, far superior to modern artificial herbs.
Something was wrong!
If the old duke had lost, why had the emperor sent so many imperial physicians?
And such good medicine, no less?

Could the news of defeat be false?
He was no longer the original fool; a quick turn of thought revealed many suspicious points.

“Before the incident, Wang Xiuyun kept talking about Princess Zhaoping, praising her beauty and grace.”
“Before entering the palace, she served him tea; after drinking it, he became dazed and stumbled into the Palace of Eternal Joy…”
“This woman is highly suspicious!”
After analyzing, Zhao Ang grew vigilant.
The original was a wastrel, not a fool; not even with ten times the courage would he dare touch a princess.
He vaguely recalled being knocked out, only to awaken beside the princess.
Clearly, this was a conspiracy from start to finish!

A conspiracy aimed squarely at the Zhao family!

From Wang Xiuyun’s appearance, drugging him, orchestrating the “Eternal Joy incident,” enraging the emperor, forcing the aged Zhao Rong to the front lines, and the heir dying in a brothel—all meticulously executed.
With all this, the old duke would die, and Zhao Ang would be finished.
Wang Xiuyun, pregnant in secret, would become the sole master of the Zhao clan, and her posthumous child would inherit command of the two hundred thousand Black Tiger Army.

“What a vicious plan to wipe out the lineage!”
Understanding this, Zhao Ang’s scalp tingled.

A dense clatter of armor sounded as a tall figure strode in.
This man’s hair and beard were snow-white, clad in bloodstained armor, wielding a horsewhip, his aged face radiating authority and anger.

“Salute the Duke of South Suppression!”
All the imperial physicians bowed in fear.

“Is this brat still savable?”
Zhao Rong asked loudly, his voice strong.

“His Majesty bestowed a five-hundred-year-old ginseng. The heir is out of danger; a fortnight’s rest and he’ll recover.”
The physicians hurried to reply.

Zhao Rong visibly relaxed, his anger fading somewhat.
Looking at the nearly seventy-year-old man, white-haired and armored in blood, Zhao Ang shook his head inwardly.
Such an age, yet still fighting at the front—he barely returned alive.

The emperor was ruthless.

In truth, had his soul not arrived, the real Zhao Ang would already be a corpse.
This old man would again endure the heartbreak of burying his own child, and the mighty Zhao clan would have no heir.