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

Luo Fei's voice wasn't loud, but everyone in the silent hall could hear it clearly.

Although Luo Fei's tone was somewhat strange and peculiar, the First Emperor still understood what he meant.

Upon hearing the words "two thousand years later," the First Emperor's finger, which had been hovering in mid-air, trembled violently and he withdrew it from Luo Fei's hand.

"Hmph, spreading rumors and misleading the public."

Throughout his life, the First Emperor encountered far too many eloquent alchemists and sorcerers who boasted about the elixir of immortality, only to leave behind a pile of useless cinnabar and empty promises.

The young man in front of me, dressed in coarse linen clothes and simple straw sandals, didn't even have the basic attire of a Taoist priest.

At least a Taoist priest would carry an exquisite alchemical furnace and mysterious immortal books, but he came empty-handed and said, "I come from more than two thousand years in the future." In the eyes of the First Emperor, this was undoubtedly another, even more clumsy, deception.

As soon as the First Emperor finished speaking, four black-clad guards, as elusive as ghosts, moved.

Like four black lightning bolts, they simultaneously thrust out their swords, the tips of which were precisely aimed at Luo Fei's throat, chest, back, and ribs.

This was a deadly combined attack technique they had practiced countless times. The four swords formed an impenetrable net, blocking all possible escape routes. To ordinary people, there was only one way out: death.

But Luo Fei neither dodged nor parried, nor even looked at the swords.

The four swords stopped at the same time, less than an inch from his body—because the swords had broken.

Four crisp sounds rang out almost simultaneously, and four sword tips flew off the blade, embedding themselves deeply into the surrounding pillars, their ends still trembling slightly.

The guard only had half a broken sword left in his hand. The broken edge of the blade was jagged, and there were clear marks of force at the break, making it look as if it had been forcibly broken by someone's fingers.

The guards retreated quickly, even faster than they had come. The four of them simultaneously sheathed their swords and retreated, swiftly blocking the First Emperor's path. Half of their swords were held horizontally in front of their chests, the blades facing outwards.

The First Emperor's eyes widened suddenly.

He had seen many skilled martial artists before; Meng Tian, ​​Wang Jian, and Li Xin were all fierce generals capable of defeating ten thousand men.

But they killed with knives, guns, and arrows. No one could break four hundred-forged longswords out of thin air, let alone break them in the heat of battle.

His gaze never left Luo Fei, who stood there motionless. The longsword pierced through, and then broke.

His gaze shifted from Luo Fei to the pillar in the hall, where the four sword tips were still firmly embedded, the exposed parts gleaming coldly in the candlelight.

His gaze shifted from the pillar back to Luo Fei. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately no sound came out—he truly didn't know how to describe the unimaginable scene before him.

Luo Fei did not explain.

He doesn't need to explain, because no words are as powerful as a direct demonstration.

His body slowly rose from the ground, and when it was about a meter above the ground, it hovered steadily in mid-air.

His feet were off the ground, with a gap between the soles of his straw sandals and the ground, and the tassels woven from hemp rope hung down below, swaying gently with the slight movement of his body.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze simultaneously looking down at the guards blocking the First Emperor's path, and at the First Emperor's face, which appeared somewhat emaciated due to his thinness.

Moonlight streamed in through the doorway, falling upon him and casting a long shadow on the ground.

Hurried footsteps came from outside the hall, interspersed with the sounds of armor plates clashing, halberds striking the ground, and crossbows being cocked—a cacophony of sounds.

A group of guards rushed in through the palace gate. The captain, a man in his thirties with a full beard, was holding a bronze sword tightly in his hand.

He caught a glimpse of the scene inside the hall: four guards stood in front of the First Emperor, while a young man dressed in black linen clothes was floating in mid-air.

His first reaction was not surprise, but an overwhelming fear.

I am not afraid of what might happen to myself, but I am worried that the First Emperor might be harmed in the slightest.

He suddenly opened his mouth, and a roar escaped his throat: "Assassins! Protect the Emperor!"

The guards behind him surged in like a tide.

Shield bearers were in front, halberdiers in the middle, and crossbowmen at the rear.

The shield was made of wood and covered with a layer of cowhide, with a tiger pattern painted on the surface.

The halberds held by the halberd soldiers were very long, more than a person tall, and the halberd heads were made of bronze, with sharp points, blades, and hooks.

The crossbowmen stood at the back, their crossbows already strung, arrows nocked in their slots, fingers gripping their halberds tightly, the arrow tips all aimed at Luo Fei.

The main hall was originally very spacious, but it suddenly felt cramped after being crowded with these guards.

Luo Fei was surrounded in the center, surrounded by people on all sides. Shields formed an impenetrable wall in front of him, and halberds protruded from the gaps in the shields, their sharp tips less than a meter away from his body; crossbowmen's arrows pierced through the gaps in the crowd, accurately aiming at his head, chest, abdomen and other vital parts.

Hundreds of people were crammed into this not-so-spacious hall, and the scene was deathly silent.

No one spoke, no one coughed, no one even moved a step; only the sound of rapid breathing filled the air.

The captain stood behind the shield bearer, raising his bronze sword high above his head, the tip pointing directly at Luo Fei.

His hands trembled slightly, and the bronze sword swayed incessantly in the flickering candlelight.

"Lay down your weapons and surrender, or you will be killed without mercy!"

Although he deliberately raised his voice, trying to make it sound loud and powerful, it was clearly lacking in confidence.

Because he clearly saw the four broken swords, which were firmly nailed to the pillars inside the hall; he also saw the person hanging in mid-air.

Luo Fei hovered in the air, looking down at the First Emperor, who was also looking up at him.

The two were separated by dozens of guards, dozens of halberds, and dozens of crossbow bolts, yet they still gazed at each other from afar, as if the whole world consisted of only the two of them.

The First Emperor's pupils contracted slightly, not out of fear, but as he carefully confirmed the situation.

I need to confirm whether this person can really fly, whether the guard's sword was broken by this person, and whether the statement "from more than two thousand years in the future" is credible.

He had spent his life pursuing superhuman strength and eternal life, and the sight before him rekindled a glimmer of hope in his long-dormant heart.

The First Emperor's lips moved slightly, and his voice clearly resonated throughout the entire main hall:

"Step back."

It wasn't addressed to Luo Fei, but rather was an order given to the guards.

The captain of the guards was stunned. He still held his long sword high in his hand, unsure whether to put it down or continue in that position. His face was full of confusion and bewilderment.

The First Emperor's voice rang out again, louder than before, carrying the absolute authority of someone who had long held a high position and wielded the power of life and death: "I have said you shall leave. No one is allowed to enter without my order."

The captain of the guards then seemed to wake from a dream and quickly sheathed his sword.

The crossbowmen unloaded their bolts, and the halberdiers moved their halberds away from Luo Fei.

The guards gradually withdrew from the main hall, their footsteps fading into the distance, the clanging of armor gradually diminishing, until finally, the hall returned to silence.

The palace doors slowly closed, and the main hall returned to silence.

The oil lamp continued to burn quietly, its orange light shining on the First Emperor's face, on the black-clad guards, and also illuminating Luo Fei's body suspended in mid-air.

A night breeze quietly blew in through the window, carrying a hint of coolness and ruffling a few strands of hair on the First Emperor's forehead.

The First Emperor braced his hands on the edge of the bed, leaned forward slightly, and looked up at Luo Fei with a complex expression in his eyes.

His hands were trembling slightly, not out of fear, but because his body, which had been suffering from illness for many years, could hardly support his current excitement.

His lips moved slightly, his voice low but filled with heavy expectation, each word clearly audible: "You... are you really from over two thousand years ago?"

Luo Fei responded, his voice calm yet undeniably authoritative: "Yes."

The First Emperor's heart clenched. He took a deep breath and asked again, a question that seemed to drain all his strength: "My Great Qin Dynasty, is it gone?"

Luo Fei stared into the eyes of the First Emperor—those murky, bloodshot eyes, yet a faint glimmer of fire still lingered in the center of the pupils.

He remained silent for a moment, then uttered only one word: "Death."

The First Emperor slowly closed his eyes.

His hand slid off the edge of the bed and hung down at his side, his fingers slightly curled.

His head rested against the back of the bed, his hair falling from his shoulders and obscuring half of his face.

His breathing was heavy and slow.

He didn't ask "how he died," "who killed him," or "when he died."

He only needed the word "death" to receive.

He didn't need to know the details because he knew they wouldn't make him feel better; they would only make him more miserable.

He recalled his triumphant spirit when he unified the six kingdoms, his swords and horses, his might as a tiger swallowing the vast land; he recalled his domineering presence when he performed the Fengshan ceremony at Mount Tai, feeling the glory of being worshipped by all the people; he recalled his determination when he sent Xu Fu to find the elixir of immortality, believing that as long as he obtained the elixir, he could protect this beautiful land forever.

But now, Xu Fu, that useless good-for-nothing, has not found the elixir of immortality, but instead has been greeted by a young man from more than two thousand years in the future, who brings the devastating news of the Qin Dynasty's demise.