I started by watching videos, and I chose 10,000 combat power.

Luo Fei came out of the armory and stood next to Director Qin.

He took the time machine out of the ring. Its silver-white casing gleamed coldly in the moonlight, and the words on the dial were still lit: "210 BC, July, Dune."

He exchanged a glance with Director Qin.

"Director Qin, I'll leave it to you to take good care of my family."

As Director Qin listened, he gripped the thermos in his hand tighter and tighter. His lips moved as if he wanted to say "Don't worry," but in the end, he only managed to squeeze out one word: "Mm."

Luo Fei looked at him and added, "You should also take good care of your health."

Director Qin's lips finally moved again, this time uttering a slightly hoarse voice: "I understand. Don't worry, I'll take care of things at home."

Luo Fei nodded, focused his mind on the time machine, and confirmed its activation.

A warm white light emanated from the time machine, first seeping through the gaps between his fingers as he held it, then spreading along the back of his hand, wrist, and arm to his shoulder, finally covering his entire body and enveloping him.

The edges of the white light were hazy and indistinct, like a spreading mist, while his body gradually became transparent in the white light, slowly transforming from a solid into a phantom.

Director Qin stood in front of him, watching in shock as his body gradually disappeared in the white light.

Director Qin stood frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the spot where Luo Fei had disappeared. After a long while, he slowly turned and left, his steps much heavier than when he arrived.

The car slowly drove out of the warehouse center and onto the road lined with poplar trees on both sides. As it drove further and further away, the taillights became two small red dots in the night, eventually disappearing completely.

Luo Fei never closed his eyes, because he knew in his heart that the light would not harm him.

As the light gradually faded, a pitch-black night sky appeared before him, so pure that there was not a trace of light pollution.

A full moon hangs high in the sky, bright and round, like a lantern suspended in the heavens, radiating ample light and illuminating the earth as bright as day.

He found himself in a desolate wilderness, his feet treading on dry weeds.

There were no roads, no houses, no lights, and no human habitation around; only endless wild grass, howling wind, and a few bare trees in the distance.

He took out the Qin Dynasty commoner's clothing that he had prepared in advance from the ring.

It was a black linen garment, slightly rough to the touch, with a slightly prickly feel.

The upper garment was a short brown coat with a cross-collar and right-fastening front, with wide sleeves and the hem reaching down to the knees, and a hemp rope tied around the waist.

The trousers were wide-crotch and narrow-legged, with the cuffs tightly tied with strips of cloth, making them very convenient to walk in.

The shoes were straw sandals woven from hemp rope, with very thin soles, so you could clearly feel the sharp edges of the pebbles when you stepped on them.

He took off his jacket and sneakers, changed into the black linen clothes, and put the clothes he had taken off into his ring. He stretched his neck, and his body slowly rose from the ground.

The moonlight was so bright and clear that every detail of the ground could be seen without any artificial lighting.

The wilderness unfolded beneath my feet, like a crumpled gray blanket, with weeds and shrubs growing on the uneven ground, and pebbles scattered around.

Based on the Qin Dynasty map and the approximate location of the Sand Dune Palace provided by the professors, he adjusted his direction in the air and then began to accelerate.

Sand Dune Palace is situated on a sand dune platform.

Sand Dune Platform is located within the territory of Julu County.

In 210 BC, Qin Shi Huang embarked on his fifth eastern tour, starting from Xianyang and traveling eastward. When he reached Pingyuanjin, he fell ill.

Despite this, he persisted. Upon reaching the sand dune platform, his condition deteriorated rapidly, and he could no longer continue, so he had to stop there.

This palace was not large in scale, nor was it a grand palace. Instead, it was a group of buildings built along the mountainside. It included a main hall, side halls, sleeping quarters, guardhouses, stables, and warehouses, all surrounded by rammed earth walls, forming an irregular courtyard.

The courtyard wall wasn't very high, only about a meter tall, and the withered grass on top swayed gently in the night breeze.

The courtyard was brightly lit, with the light from oil lamps, candles, and torches intertwined.

Two rows of guards stood at the entrance of the courtyard. They were clad in armor, holding long halberds, and each of them stood tall and straight like pine trees.

The entire courtyard was silent; no one spoke or moved about. Even the horses in the stable stood quietly, neither neighing nor snorting.

The doors to the main hall were open.

It wasn't that the guards forgot to turn it off; it was simply because it was too hot.

In July, the sand dunes are as hot as a steamer during the day, and although it cools down a bit at night, the house is still so stuffy that it's hard to breathe.

Zhao Gao was worried that the First Emperor would feel hot, so he ordered all the doors and windows of the main hall to be opened so that the cool night breeze could slowly flow in.

The First Emperor was sitting on a low bed in the main hall. The bed legs were very short, only a dozen centimeters off the ground. A bamboo mat was laid on the bed, and a mattress was placed on top of the mat.

He was wearing a white silk undergarment, his face was thin, his eyes were sunken, and his lips were somewhat chapped.

Before him was a small table, on which were laid blue bamboo slips woven with hemp rope.

He held a rabbit hair brush in his hand, the handle made of bamboo, the tip dipped in pine soot ink, the ink was dark black and emitted a faint pine scent.

His hands trembled uncontrollably as he wrote, and he could barely hold the pen, resulting in crooked and uneven strokes.

He was writing an imperial edict for his eldest son, Fusu.

Fusu was the successor he had personally groomed. He sent Fusu to Shangjun to supervise Meng Tian's army, not because he disliked this son, but precisely because he valued him too much—he wanted Fusu to gain experience in the army for a few years, to learn how to lead troops in battle, to recognize and employ people, and to govern the country.

Originally, once he finished his eastern tour and returned to Xianyang, he would summon Fusu back and pass the throne to him.

But now, he knows he can never go back.

The imperial physician said he only had heatstroke and would recover after a few days of rest, but he didn't believe it—the physician's eyes had already betrayed him.

His hand trembled slightly as the pen tip traced a crooked line on the bamboo slip.

He put down his pen, pressed his right wrist with his left hand for a few seconds, then picked up the pen again and continued writing.

Although the handwriting on the bamboo slips is not neat, it is still legible.

"I have toured the empire for over ten years, pacifying the six kingdoms in the east, subduing the Baiyue in the south, and driving out the Xiongnu in the north. I have built the Great Wall to guard the borders and constructed roads to connect the four directions. Now that the empire is at peace, I am old and seriously ill, and I fear I will soon pass away. Fusu, my eldest son, is benevolent, filial, gentle, and respectful, and is well-versed in government affairs. He is the rightful heir to the throne. I hereby order Fusu to hand over military power to Meng Tian, ​​return to Xianyang immediately to preside over the funeral, and ascend the throne."

He did not show this imperial edict to anyone.

After writing it down, he rolled up the bamboo slips, tied them securely with hemp rope, and then stamped them with his seal.

The seal was inscribed with the eight characters "Received the Mandate of Heaven, May His Life Be Long and Prosperous." His hand holding the jade seal trembled slightly, and when he pressed it down, the inscription was slightly crooked, but that did not matter—the seal was genuine, and so was the imperial edict.

He placed the imperial seal on the table, leaned back against the headboard of the bed, and slowly closed his eyes.

The night breeze quietly drifted in through the doorway, gently stirring the bamboo slips, brushing against the writing brush on the desk, and ruffling his full head of white hair.

His breathing became heavy and slow, and his chest heaved weakly.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps.

Those weren't the footsteps of a guard. He had heard the footsteps of a guard for over twenty years; they were familiar, steady, and powerful.

The footsteps, however, were completely different, so light that they were almost imperceptible.

But he was the First Emperor—the monarch who unified the six kingdoms, the emperor who built the Great Wall, and the Son of Heaven who performed the Fengshan ceremony at Mount Tai.

His hearing was more acute than anyone else's. Even when he was seriously ill, even when he was weak, even when he was on the verge of death, he still managed to catch those subtle sounds.

He slowly opened his eyes and saw a person standing in front of the table.

The man was dressed in black linen clothes, with a hemp rope tied around his waist, straw sandals on his feet, and his hair was simply tied up with a cloth. He looked like an ordinary Qin Dynasty citizen.

However, his face was not like that of an ordinary person—too young and too clean.

People of this era bear the marks of hardship, hunger, suffering, and the crushing weight of life on their faces.

This person's face was completely blank, like a piece of white jade that had never been touched by anything.

The First Emperor raised his hand from the table.

His fingers were trembling, his knuckles were protruding, his nails were yellow, and there were some ink stains on his fingertips, which were from when he was writing.

His finger pointed at the newcomer, his lips moved, and he made a muffled sound in his throat.

He wanted to say, "Who are you?", but before he could utter the first word, the darkness around him stirred.

The First Emperor was always surrounded by guards.

The guards who weren't standing in the open were just for show; those in armor and carrying halberds were just for show, there for outsiders.

The true protectors are hidden in the darkness, in places unseen by others.

They were assassins trained by the First Emperor, without names, faces, pasts, or futures.

They were dressed in black clothes, black shoes, and black face masks, with only their eyes showing.

They held long black swords in their hands; the blades were black and did not reflect light, appearing as invisible shadows in the darkness.

They would only emerge from the darkness, kill, and then return to the darkness when the First Emperor was in danger.

Four men in black appeared simultaneously from four directions.

Their swords were already drawn, their tips aimed at the black figure standing in front of the desk.

The First Emperor's hand was still pointing at that person, and he didn't put it down.

His lips were still moving when the voice finally escaped his throat, hoarse and dry: "Who are you? Why have you broken into my bedchamber in the dead of night?"

The night wind blew in through the door, extinguishing the oil lamp closest to the door.

One of the orange lights went out, and the room became a little darker.

The First Emperor stared at the young man dressed in black linen clothes, waiting for his answer.

Luo Fei stood there, the moonlight shining in from the doorway and onto him.

He looked at the First Emperor's gaunt face and the trembling finger that was still pointing at him.

He thought to himself, "This is the First Emperor, the man who swept across the six kingdoms and unified the world, the man who was written as a tyrant in history books but was later called the First Emperor of All Time."

He became thin, aged, and ill; his life was nearing its end.

Luo Fei's lips moved slightly, and he uttered a sentence that the First Emperor could understand.

Each syllable was pronounced strictly according to Professor Wang's instructions. Although I dare not say it is 100% accurate, the First Emperor should be able to understand it.

"Your Majesty, my name is Luo Fei. I come from more than two thousand years in the future."