I started on a deserted island and encountered Ying Zheng, who insisted I was an immortal.

Ying Zheng and Meng Yi were so shocked by the terrifying production figures that they were petrified on the spot.

They stared blankly at Wang Ben, who was crying and laughing in the field, unable to utter a single word.

Even in a bumper year, a mu of fertile land in the Qin Dynasty would only yield two shi of millet.

Seven or eight thousand catties.

This number has exceeded their wildest imagination.

"Hey, are you crazy?"

Zhang Ying couldn't stand it anymore, so he went over and grabbed Wang Ben's arm.

"It's just a sweet potato, is it really that big of a deal?"

"Are you crazy?"

He frowned as he looked at Wang Ben's bloodied and mangled hands.

"Your hands are all cut and scraped, doesn't it hurt?"

Wang Ben ignored his reprimand.

He simply wiped the tears and snot off his face with his sleeve.

He stood up, put down the sweet potato in his hand, and then made a move towards Zhang Ying that surprised everyone.

He straightened his tattered clothes, took a step back, and bowed deeply and solemnly to Zhang Ying.

"Marquis Wang Ben of Tongwu, on behalf of the millions of people of my Great Qin..."

"...Mr. Xie!"

Wang Ben prostrated himself on the ground, his forehead pressed tightly against the sandy ground.

He didn't say anything more.

He couldn't bring himself to say the rest of his words.

Meng Yi was completely stunned. He stood there, still holding the half-eaten sweet potato in his hand, his mouth half-open, unaware that the juice was dripping down his chin.

He seemed to have had his soul ripped out.

Ying Zheng did not move; he simply looked down at the spindle-shaped tuber in his hand, which was also covered in mud.

Five thousand catties.

Seven or eight thousand catties.

The number echoed repeatedly in his mind, like a series of thunderclaps.

Zhang Ying felt a chill run down her spine as she looked at the bizarre scene before her.

He felt that Wang Ben had completely become obsessed with acting.

He got too caught up in the role and started to think of himself as the Marquis of Tongwu of Qin.

Poor thing.

Ying Zheng gripped the sweet potato tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white from the force.

He thought more than Wang Ben and Meng Yi.

This food can not only fill your stomach.

It can ensure that there will be no more starving people in the Qin Dynasty.

It can completely deprive the restless remnants of the former six states of their foundation for inciting the people.

People eat for food.

If the people can have enough to eat, who would follow you in rebellion?

This is the foundation for all ages.

This is the divine object that can ensure the eternal stability of the Qin Dynasty.

The introduction of sweet potatoes actually occurred more than a thousand years later, at the end of the Ming Dynasty.

Before this, the people of this land had always been engaged in the most brutal struggle against hunger.

Wang Ben's body was still trembling.

He wasn't faking it.

He was genuinely scared.

He had witnessed firsthand the famine in Guanzhong before Qin unified the world, where people even exchanged their own children to eat. These were not just four cold, hard words in history books.

That was the living hell he would see as soon as he pushed open the tent door.

He had seen children so hungry they were skin and bones, gnawing on clay mixed with pebbles.

He had also seen desperate mothers throw their crying babies into boiling water.

In every Qin army campaign, besides expanding territory, an even more important objective was to plunder grain.

If we don't rob them, our own people will starve to death.

The Qin Dynasty's treasury was piled high with enough grain to feed the army and civilians for several years.

But so what?

The country is rich but the people are poor.

In order to defend against the Xiongnu, to suppress the Baiyue, and to prevent the restoration of the six states, the country's granaries must be overflowing.

Meanwhile, the poor at the bottom of society are still struggling to make ends meet.

Wang Ben slowly raised his head, his eyes were frighteningly red, and even his panda-like eye circles didn't look so funny anymore.

"If you could help us escape this predicament..."

He spoke slowly and deliberately, his voice hoarse as if two stones were rubbing against each other.

"Wang Ben is willing to serve you, sir, by holding your whip and pulling your stirrups, to be your ox and horse, even unto death!"

He regarded Zhang Ying as a savior of the world.

Zhang Ying felt extremely uncomfortable with his behavior.

What is all this about?

It's just a sweet potato.

First it was potatoes, then rice, then paper, and now it's sweet potatoes.

Have these three people never seen anything good before, or did they come here specifically to experience life?

He sighed; his tolerance for these drama queens was nearing its limit.

"Alright, alright, get up now."

Zhang Ying waved her hand impatiently.

"It's such a small matter, why are you making it sound like a life-or-death situation?"

He turned and went into the wooden house.

A moment later, he came out dragging a large sack woven from vines.

With a "bang".

He threw the bag on the ground, and some of its contents spilled out.

It's a dry, yellowish-brown strip.

"Look, dried sweet potatoes, I still have about two hundred pounds left."

Zhang Ying kicked the bag with her foot.

"Help yourself if you want to eat, there's plenty."

Ying Zheng and Meng Yi looked at the bag full of dried sweet potatoes, and then at Zhang Ying's "eat as much as you want, don't be shy" expression.

They were once again awestruck.

This divine object, capable of changing the fate of a nation, he just... casually threw it away?

It's like throwing away a bag of ordinary firewood.

Ying Zheng slowly straightened up.

He abandoned his previous attitude of probing and pretense.

He bowed slightly to Zhang Ying, a gesture of respect from a student to a teacher, or rather, from a seeker of the Way to a great sage.

"May I ask, sir, where do you come from?"

Zhang Ying was already annoyed, and the three people's overreaction made her feel even worse.

He replied irritably.

"It fell from the sky, okay?"

He was referring to the plane crash.

To Ying Zheng and the other two, these five words were like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

Did it fall from the sky?

The three of them were completely blank-minded, but they all thought of the same possibility at the same time.

immortal.

Ying Zheng's heart pounded wildly. He had spent his life pursuing immortality, visiting immortal mountains and searching for immortals, but he never expected that his true destiny with immortals would be right here.

His voice trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"Then...may I ask, sir, which immortal are you?"

"Immortal my foot!"

Zhang Ying finally couldn't hold back any longer; he scratched his hair in frustration.

"Feudal superstition is unacceptable. Don't you understand science?"

"My name is Zhang Ying, and I'm just an ordinary person!"

He seemed to be venting something, and his voice suddenly rose in pitch.

"A poor guy who's been stuck on this wretched island for three whole years!"

"I've tried countless times! I've built a raft out of wood and tried to paddle out, but every time those damned waves crash against me!"

"For three years, I haven't seen a single ship! Not a single airplane!"

His voice was filled with helplessness and despair, a vulnerability he rarely showed to others.

Do you know how much I miss home?

"My parents are getting old and their health isn't good. I don't know how they are now..."

As Zhang Ying spoke, his voice lowered, and he turned away, not wanting others to see his expression.

The entire beach fell into a deathly silence.

All that remained was the sound of waves crashing against the rocks, over and over again.

Ying Zheng, Meng Yi, and Wang Ben all fell silent.

They dispelled the speculation that Zhang Ying was a "deity".

No deity would worry about their parents in the mortal world.

No deity can be trapped by mere ocean waves.

But how did he "fall from the sky"?

The three exchanged glances, and a new guess simultaneously popped into their minds.

This person may not be an immortal.

Instead, they are... disciples of immortals.