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

Luo Fei's body slowly descended from the air, the soles of his straw sandals lightly touching the ground without making a sound, as if a feather had drifted down into a silent palace.

His hands hung at his sides, his face expressionless.

Four black-clad guards remained standing before the First Emperor, their broken swords held horizontally before them, their blades, though damaged, still gleaming coldly.

Their eyes remained fixed on Luo Fei, not daring to relax for a moment, and they exuded a murderous aura.

The First Emperor raised his hand from the edge of the bed, the veins on the back of his hand bulging, and waved it lightly in the air, the movement not very large.

The four guards immediately sheathed their swords, neatly and swiftly returning the broken swords that had been lying in front of them to their waists.

They quickly dispersed, their figures disappearing into the surrounding darkness as if they had never existed.

However, Luo Fei could clearly discern the heartbeats and breathing frequencies of the four of them in his keen senses.

The First Emperor's hand fell from the air and rested on the edge of the bed, making a slight sound.

His gaze shifted from the darkness where the guards had disappeared, slowly landing on Luo Fei. He scanned Luo Fei's face and clothing, his eyes filled with inquiry and authority.

Then, he raised his hand again and pointed slowly to a straw mat woven from cattail leaves in front of the table.

He didn't speak, but his meaning was very clear—please sit down.

Luo Fei walked to the table and sat down cross-legged.

His knees almost touched the edge of the table, on which lay a newly written imperial edict.

The brush rests on the brush holder, its tip still stained with ink. The ink has condensed into a small ball at the tip, teetering precariously, as if it might drip onto the bamboo slips at any moment.

The First Emperor leaned back against the headboard of the bed, his body slightly turned to the side, facing Luo Fei.

His lips moved, and a sound was squeezed out from his throat, hoarse and dry.

"You say you came from over two thousand years ago. Then tell me, why did you come?"

His voice wasn't loud, but every word carried the authority of someone who had long held a high position.

Luo Fei sat on a straw mat, his hands on his knees, palms down.

He looked at the First Emperor, his lips moved slightly, and he said something that made the First Emperor's pupils shrink slightly.

"I have come to meet Qin Shi Huang, who will be known to later generations as the First Emperor of All Time."

The First Emperor's eyes suddenly lit up.

In the deep blackness at the center of his pupils, something seemed to be ignited.

The spark that had almost gone out in the darkness suddenly flared up as if someone had poured a spoonful of oil on it. The flame was small, but it was unusually bright, illuminating his originally cloudy, bloodshot eyes, which looked like those of a dying patient.

"A great emperor for all time..."

His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself, or as if he were carefully savoring the meaning of those four words, each word carrying endless weight.

He rolled those four words repeatedly on the tip of his tongue, chewing each word for a long time.

After a long while, the corners of his mouth finally turned up slightly, revealing a rare smile, a smile that carried both satisfaction and a hint of pride.

His gaze remained fixed on Luo Fei, gradually shifting from initial scrutiny to acceptance, as if he had already acknowledged this young man who claimed to have come from the future.

Luo Fei shifted his gaze from the First Emperor's face to the scroll of imperial edict on the table.

The bamboo slips were rolled up and bound with hemp rope, with the seal stamped on the knot of the rope. The vermilion ink was not yet completely dry.

His gaze lingered on the scroll for a moment, and the First Emperor followed suit, his gaze also settling on the scroll. The First Emperor raised his hand from the edge of the bed and pointed at the scroll.

"Since you are from later times, do you know what is written on this?"

Luo Fei nodded, looked at the scroll, and explained the general meaning of its contents.

"Fusu, my eldest son, is benevolent, filial, gentle, and respectful, and is well-versed in government affairs. He is fit to inherit the throne. I hereby order Fusu to hand over military power to Meng Tian, ​​return to Xianyang immediately to preside over the funeral, and then ascend the throne."

The First Emperor's hand froze in mid-air, his fingers slightly curled.

"I didn't show this imperial edict to anyone after I finished writing it. Even Zhao Gao didn't know what I wrote. You've revealed its contents, so I believe you. You really are from the future. You haven't lied to me."

His voice was still hoarse, but his tone was very firm, with a sense of relief.

Luo Fei looked at the First Emperor, remained silent for a moment, and was filled with mixed feelings.

He lifted his hand from his knees and placed it on the edge of the table, his fingers lightly tapping the cold surface, producing a crisp sound.

He then spoke, his voice lower than before, tinged with heaviness: "Unfortunately, this imperial edict was not made public after His Majesty's death, but was instead altered. Fusu did not receive this edict; he received a forged one. The forged edict stated—'Fusu is unfilial; he is hereby ordered to commit suicide by sword.' Fusu had no doubts, nor did he resist; he drew his sword and cut his own throat."

"He committed suicide..."

The light in the First Emperor's eyes vanished instantly.

The spark ignited by the words "Emperor of a Thousand Ages" was extinguished the moment the words "suicide" were uttered, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over it, leaving only a wisp of despair like smoke.

His pupils widened suddenly, filled with disbelief, shock, and pain. His hand fell from mid-air and slammed heavily against the edge of the bed. His bones struck the hard wood with a dull thud, but he didn't notice it at all, because he could no longer feel any pain. The intense pain in his heart had already overwhelmed everything else.

Only two words remained in his mind—suicide.

Fusu, his eldest son, the heir he had painstakingly nurtured, the Fusu he had sent to Shangjun to oversee Meng Tian's hundreds of thousands of troops, the Fusu who had just written the imperial edict to pass the throne to him, actually committed suicide.

He did not die on the battlefield, nor from illness, nor from old age; rather, he was murdered by the person he trusted most with a forged imperial edict, and he ended his own life with the sword he had given him.

He opened his mouth, and a sound he himself could not recognize came out of his throat. The sound was hoarse and shrill, filled with endless grief and despair.

Luo Fei didn't speak, but simply sat on the straw mat with his hands on his knees, quietly watching the First Emperor.

Luo Fei did not say that "Zhao Gao and Li Si altered the imperial edict", nor did he say that "Hu Hai killed all his brothers and sisters after ascending the throne", nor did he say that "the Qin Empire perished less than three years after the First Emperor's death".

He knew that, given the First Emperor's current physical condition, hearing these words could very well lead to his immediate death.

Moreover, the only thing on his mind right now is the phrase "Fusu committed suicide".

The First Emperor's lips were moving silently, not speaking, but silently reciting a name—"Fusu".

Once, twice, three times... countless times.

Those two words seemed to be engraved deep in his soul, causing him unbearable pain.

In the dimly lit palace, only this silent call remained, echoing in the stillness, filled with endless sorrow.