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

"you……"

Wang Ben was slowly awakened by Meng Yi pinching his philtrum. Upon hearing these words, he felt another surge of blood and qi.

Ying Zheng's face also darkened.

Using a sword bestowed by the emperor to chop meat was a capital offense in the Qin Dynasty, punishable by the extermination of nine generations of one's family.

But the person before me is an immortal.

How can mortals fathom the actions of immortals?

Ying Zheng suppressed his displeasure and waved to stop Wang Ben, who was about to say something more.

He decided to change the subject, to one that could better prove the extraordinary nature of this place.

"Sir, I once saw a mirage on Langya Terrace, with palaces and pavilions, and immortals coming and going, which is quite similar to this place."

He wanted to use this method to get Zhang Cheng to admit his identity.

To everyone's surprise, Zhang Ying looked at him with an expression as if he were an idiot after hearing this.

"Hey bro, that's a mirage, you know?"

"Mirage?" Ying Zheng repeated the new term.

"Yes, it's a natural phenomenon caused by the refraction and total internal reflection of light."

Zhang Ying found it a bit difficult to explain physics to these ancient people, so she changed her approach.

"Simply put, it's like distant scenery being bent by light and projected onto your face, forming a virtual image. It's similar to looking in a mirror, except this mirror is made of air."

"What you see as palaces and pavilions could be a distant island, a fishing boat on the shore, or even just a few broken stones."

"It's all fake, you understand? An illusion!"

Ying Zheng remained silent.

Meng Yi also fell silent.

The miracles they once firmly believed in were described by the other party as a trick called "light refraction".

This is even more mind-blowing than saying that potatoes yield 4,000 jin per mu.

Zhang Ying looked at their faces, which seemed to be questioning the meaning of life, and felt her mouth go dry.

He walked to a corner of the cabin and scooped a bowl of clear liquid from a clay pot.

A rich and mellow aroma of wine instantly filled the air.

Zhang Ying took a comfortable sip, then drank it all in one gulp, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"Ah—that feels so good!"

This liquor was made by him using surplus rice and a simple distillation method that he had figured out himself.

The prescription wasn't high, but on this isolated desert island, it was the best comfort.

Ying Zheng's nose twitched.

This aroma is even more enticing than the finest wines in his palace.

"What is this?"

Zhang Ying shook the empty bowl in her hand: "Wine."

"Give me a bowl too," Ying Zheng said in an authoritative tone that brooked no argument.

He was used to giving orders like this.

Zhang Ying stopped what he was doing and glanced at Ying Zheng sideways.

"Would you like a bowl?"

"Who do you think you are? Do I owe you something?"

"Still using '朕' (Zhen, meaning 'I, the Emperor')? Why don't you just fly to the heavens?"

Zhang Ying placed the wooden bowl on the table with a muffled thud.

"Dude, you've done your act enough. Do you really think you're the emperor?"

"I saved you and gave you food; that's humanitarianism, not for you to put on airs with me."

Ying Zheng was stunned by his sharp rebuke.

Since he assumed power, who in the entire country has dared to speak to him in such a manner?

He wasn't unangry, but rather experiencing a deeper level of bewilderment.

Looking at Zhang Ying's matter-of-fact face, he felt a pang of grievance.

Ying Zheng said with a wronged expression, "I... am the emperor."

Wang Ben was about to explode. He felt that the impact on his heart today was greater than the total impact of the past ten years of war.

This "immortal" actually dares to... actually dares to treat His Majesty like this!

Looking at Ying Zheng's "I'm very serious" expression, Zhang Ying couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Fine, fine, you're the emperor, you're Qin Shi Huang."

"His acting is good, but he's not very bright."

Zhang Ying's laughter sounded particularly jarring in the sea breeze.

Meng Yi quickly stepped forward and bowed deeply to Zhang Ying: "His Majesty... was just thirsty. His words were offensive, and I hope you will forgive him."

As he spoke, he picked up another clean bowl from beside the wooden bowl that Zhang Ying had put down.

Then, he walked to the earthenware jar that emitted a strange fragrance and, imitating Zhang Ying's earlier actions, scooped out a bowl of wine.

The wine was crystal clear, without a trace of impurities.

Meng Yi, holding the wine, walked up to Ying Zheng and, following palace etiquette, first raised his bowl and took a small sip.

"Cough...cough cough!"

As soon as the mouthful went down, Meng Yi's face turned a deep purplish-red, and he coughed violently as if he had swallowed a ball of fire.

A spicy and domineering flavor burned all the way from my throat to my stomach.

The wines he drank, whether they were imperial gifts or fine wines from various countries, all had a sour and cloudy taste, and a bland flavor.

I have never tasted such a strong liquor before.

"This wine..." Meng Yi finally caught his breath, his voice trembling, "Magnificent!"

Wang Ben, curious, also came over.

Ying Zheng ignored their commotion and took the wooden bowl from Meng Yi's hands.

The aroma of the wine is enticing, and it is mellow and clean.

He brought the bowl to his lips and drank it all in one gulp.

A surge of heat exploded out, spreading through his limbs and bones, easing his tense body somewhat.

This potency was more intense than any wine he had ever tasted, yet after the intensity, a hint of sweetness lingered in his mouth.

"Good wine." Ying Zheng uttered two words, a strange blush rising on his cheeks.

"Your Majesty, let me have a taste too!" Wang Ben couldn't contain himself any longer.

Zhang Ying was secretly amused to see the three of them acting as if they had never drunk alcohol.

A bunch of drama queens.

This liquor was distilled from rice and only had an alcohol content of 30 to 40 degrees, which is nothing compared to modern spirits.

He couldn't be bothered with these three clowns anymore, so he turned around and went back into the cabin to pack his things, leaving them to "appreciate" the place outside.

Ying Zheng and his two companions, each holding a wine bowl, gathered together under the pretext of going to relieve themselves some distance away.

The sea breeze blew by, slightly dispelling the effects of the alcohol on them.

"Your Majesty, this man's origins are unknown, his language is vulgar, and he is utterly disrespectful to Your Majesty!" Wang Ben lowered his voice, his tone filled with murderous intent. "In my opinion, he must be a remnant of the Six Kingdoms, possessing some sorcery, and intends to use it to bewitch Your Majesty! Perhaps I should seize him first and interrogate him severely!"

"Lord Tongwu, please calm down." Meng Yi shook his head; he had a different opinion.

"I observe that although this person's words and actions are strange, his temperament does not seem complicated. He seems more like a hermit who has lived in the mountains for a long time."

"Furthermore, he saved our lives. If we were to attack him without any evidence, wouldn't that be repaying kindness with enmity and putting His Majesty in an unjust position?"

Wang Ben tried to argue, "But what about His Majesty...?"

"That's enough," Ying Zheng interrupted him.

Ying Zheng's mind was clearer than ever before.

Immortal? Demon? Remnant of the Six Kingdoms?

None of this matters.

The important thing is that this thing called potato can yield four to five thousand catties per mu.

This number was etched into his mind like a brand.