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

The morning dew at Xianyang Palace had not yet dried, but the faint morning light was already filtering through the windows of the side hall.

Luo Fei slowly opened his eyes on the brocade-covered bed.

He rolled over, and the system activated in his mind.

[A divine choice has been triggered today.]

The options then appear:

Option A: One thousand Tang-style horizontal swords. Material: Forged from ultra-strong alloy, with extremely high blade hardness and excellent toughness, capable of cutting through iron like mud without dulling or chipping. The blade is approximately one meter long, with a straight, narrow design and double blood grooves to enhance bleeding. The handle is wrapped with non-slip, sweat-absorbing black cotton rope, and the butt is inlaid with a brass weight. It also comes with a black sharkskin scabbard, decorated with cloud-patterned copper ornaments.

Option B: One thousand axes. Material: Also made of high-strength alloy, with a sharp blade and a heavy back, suitable for chopping wood and stone, as well as for precise throwing within thirty paces. Comes with a leather sheath to protect the blade, and the handle is wrapped with non-slip rattan.

Luo Fei did not hesitate at all.

While the axe has its uses, the Tang Dynasty's horizontal sword, as the pinnacle of cold weapons in China, is a divine weapon that countless people in later generations have dreamed of.

In comparison, the bronze swords of the Qin Dynasty and the early iron swords were like children's toys compared to the Tang Dynasty's horizontal sword. The former were easy to break and the latter were easy to dull. Only the horizontal sword could achieve both strength and flexibility.

A thousand Tang-style swords would be enough to equip an elite army.

If the First Emperor's imperial guards had each soldier equipped with one, their close-combat capabilities would have been greatly enhanced.

He chose A.

[Option A rewards: 1000 Tang-style horizontal swords. Already stored in the host's storage ring. Each sword comes with a black sharkskin scabbard, and the blade is already sharpened and ready for immediate use.]

Luo Fei sat up from the bed but did not rush to take out the knife to examine it.

He already knew Tang Hengdao's appearance by heart, so there was no need for him to look again.

He pushed open the door and went out.

The morning light spilled onto the bluestone slabs of the corridor, casting shadows on the pillars.

In the courtyard, several palace maids were carrying copper kettles to sprinkle water and sweep the ground.

When they saw Luo Fei come out, they quickly put down their tools, curtsied, and bowed, the silver hairpins in their hair swaying slightly in the morning light.

"Do you know where His Majesty is?" Luo Fei asked.

"Reporting to the Imperial Preceptor, His Majesty is practicing martial arts in the backyard," the head palace maid replied softly.

The First Emperor was at the training ground at this time.

The open space behind Xianyang Palace has been transformed into a training ground. The ground has been tamped flat and covered with a layer of fine sand.

The First Emperor was dressed in a black linen training uniform, which was loose-fitting with the trousers tied tightly, and he wore cloth shoes.

He was performing the last few movements of the first set of body-refining techniques: slowly squatting down from a standing position, raising his hands from his sides with palms facing up, coordinating with inhalation and exhalation, and finally completing the finishing posture.

His movements were much smoother than a few days ago, no longer stiff, clumsy, and halting, but rather fluid, graceful, and rhythmic.

His breathing was perfectly synchronized with the frequency of his movements; he inhaled as he began to move and exhaled as he ended to move, with each breath corresponding exactly to the start and end of a movement.

Fusu and Meng Tian stood three steps behind him, also practicing.

Fusu's complexion was rosy, indicating that he had adapted to the intensity.

Meng Tian's forehead veins throbbed slightly, and sweat slid down his angular face, dripping onto the sand.

Luo Fei walked to the edge of the training ground and stopped.

The First Emperor regained his footing and, upon seeing Luo Fei, a slight smile appeared on his lips.

His face was wrinkle-free, his hair was jet black, and his skin was smooth. He looked to be only about thirty years old, but his eyes did not have the look of a young man. Instead, they had the calm and profound look of someone who had experienced decades of life's trials.

"Imperial Preceptor, I mastered the first set of body-refining techniques yesterday. I feel much lighter and stronger."

The First Emperor spoke with a strong and resonant voice.

Luo Fei nodded and said, "Okay. You guys practice for a while first, then I'll teach you the second set of movements."

Upon hearing this, the First Emperor nodded in agreement.

Meng Tian walked up from behind the First Emperor, his forehead covered in sweat.

He didn't even bother to wipe his sweat. He quickly walked up to Luo Fei, bowed, and clasped his hands in a hurried manner.

"My lord, it has been more than half a month since I left Shangjun. Although the scouts have reported that there is no fighting on the border, the Xiongnu are like hungry wolves on the grasslands, always watching us with predatory eyes."

"As the garrison commander of Shangjun, I have been away from the military camp for a long time, and I am afraid that the morale of the troops is unstable. I would like to return to Shangjun today. I wonder if the Imperial Preceptor could accompany me? If it is inconvenient for the Imperial Preceptor, I can ride back on horseback, but it will take a few more days."

His voice was loud and clear, but his tone was very sincere.

Luo Fei stared at him, looking at his face, roughened by the wind and sand.

Luo Fei thought to himself, "This is a true general, a general who treats his soldiers as brothers and the border as his home."

"No need to ride a horse."

Luo Fei spoke up.

"I'll personally escort you there in a bit. Let's go back to the main hall first; there are some things I'd like to show you."

After saying that, he turned and walked towards the main hall.

The First Emperor and Fusu exchanged a glance, both filled with curiosity, and quickly followed behind.

Meng Tian could no longer suppress his doubts and followed closely behind, his steps becoming much lighter.

Inside the main hall, towering beams and pillars stand tall, and calming sandalwood incense burns in a bronze censer.

Luo Fei walked to the center of the main hall, stretched out his right hand, and took out a Tang-style horizontal sword from his storage ring.

The black sharkskin sheath is inlaid with copper ornaments, the patterns of which are simple and unpretentious.

The hilt of the knife was wrapped with a black rope, which was woven very tightly.

He handed the knife to the First Emperor.

The First Emperor's gaze was immediately drawn to the sharkskin texture of the scabbard, the rope-wrapping technique on the hilt, the crescent-shaped design of the handguard, and finally to the cloud-patterned bronze ornament at the end of the scabbard, his eyes filled with admiration.

He reached out, grasped the hilt, his fingertips stroking the warm, smooth wooden handle, and then slowly drew the knife from its sheath.

With a soft "whoosh," the blade suddenly gleamed with a chilling light in the sunlight.

The blade was as sharp as an ice shard, and could even clearly reflect the First Emperor's slightly squinted eyebrows.

The forging patterns on the blade are as fine as fish scales, and they shimmer with a metallic luster under the light.

The First Emperor's eyes lit up; he fell in love with the knife at first sight.

"A fine knife."

He raised the knife, blade facing upwards, and examined it carefully in the light.

"I have collected countless swords, but I have never seen such an outstanding knife."

Seeing the First Emperor's obvious delight in the weapon, Luo Fei smiled slightly and said, "Your Majesty, let General Meng draw his sword and test its sharpness against this blade."

The First Emperor glanced at Luo Fei, a hint of doubt in his eyes, but his trust in Luo Fei was already deeply ingrained. He did not ask for the reason, but simply held the sword horizontally in front of him, blade facing outward, signaling Meng Tian to make his move.

Meng Tian placed his hand on the sword at his waist, a bronze sword that he had served for many years. The sword was about seventy centimeters long and five centimeters wide, with a blade polished to a gleaming cold light. Three blood grooves were engraved on the spine of the sword, which was a gift from the First Emperor when he pacified the Baiyue.

He raised his sword, its tip aimed at the Tang Dynasty broadsword in the First Emperor's hand, but hesitated, his brow furrowed, and said, "Grand Preceptor, this is a fine sword. If it's damaged—"

Before he could finish speaking, the First Emperor flicked his wrist, and the Tang sword flashed with a cold light. This was not a full-force strike, but merely a light flick like a whisk.

"Ding!"

The moment the swords clashed, there were no sparks as expected, nor any harsh metallic scraping sounds; only a crisp, light sound was produced.

Immediately afterwards, the bronze sword in Meng Tian's hand snapped in two, the upper half of the blade being severed and tumbling several times in the air before crashing to the ground with a clang.

The break is smooth and neat, without even a burr.

Meng Tian's hand was still in the posture of holding the sword, but only half of the sword blade remained on the hilt.

His mouth was agape enough to fit an egg, his eyes were wide open, staring intently at the broken sword, his pupils contracting and dilating repeatedly, unable to believe his eyes.

The First Emperor's hand also stopped in mid-air; he still maintained the posture of wielding a sword, with the tip of the sword pointing diagonally towards the ground.

He looked down at the Tang sword in his hand, but there wasn't a single mark left on the blade, not even a tiny scratch; its cold light remained sharp.

His mouth was slightly open, his gaze shifting from the broken sword in Meng Tian's hand to the smooth cut, his throat involuntarily moved, and he swallowed.

Meng Tian's hands began to tremble violently, not out of fear, but from extreme excitement.

His voice was forced out from his throat, slightly hoarse: "Grand...Grand Preceptor, how many of these swords do you...how many do you have?"

Luo Fei extended his right index finger.

Meng Tian stared at the finger, his lips trembling slightly. His voice lowered, as if he were talking to himself, or perhaps comforting himself: "One...one? Oh well, such a divine weapon is a gift from heaven to the world."