I will make Qin Shi Huang immortal in the Great Qin Dynasty.

The 37th year of Qin Shi Huang's reign.

The grand procession of the eastern tour caravan wound its way across the vast plains, its banners obscuring the sun, its carriages and horses rumbling endlessly.

Ying Zheng leaned against the soft brocade cushions inside the carriage, but felt no comfort whatsoever.

It felt like a huge rock was pressing on my chest, and every breath brought a dull pain.

This is his fifth trip to the East.

Starting from Xianyang, passing through Wuguan, and following the Dan River downstream, we headed southeast.

The original plan was to go to Kuaiji Mountain to pay homage to the Mausoleum of Yu the Great, then head north to Langya, and then return to Xianyang.

Along the way, every prefecture and county they passed through was filled with fear and trepidation, but Ying Zheng knew in his heart that these people were not kneeling before him as a person, but rather before the supreme power he held in his hands.

authority.

Oh.

No matter how great the power, it cannot defy destiny.

Ying Zheng subconsciously raised his hand and touched his neck, where the skin was loose and the veins were visible.

He is only forty-nine years old this year, but his body has been worn out by years of hard work for the country and his obsession with immortality.

Cough cough--

A violent coughing fit struck without warning, and Ying Zheng abruptly arched his back, covering his mouth tightly with his right hand.

Hearing the commotion, the servants outside the carriage visibly panicked for a moment, but none of them dared to lift the curtain and come in to inquire.

Everyone has noticed His Majesty's recent health condition.

But no one dared to say it.

The coughing finally subsided, and Ying Zheng slowly removed his hand from his mouth, glancing down at the scene.

In the center of the palm, a small patch of shocking dark red lay quietly, particularly glaring.

blood.

Ying Zheng stared at that dark red color for a long time, his gaze deep and thoughtful.

After a while, he pulled out a silk handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped the bloodstains from his palm expressionlessly.

The sound of light hooves came from outside the carriage, and a chestnut horse approached the carriage.

The man on horseback was tall and handsome, with a sword at his waist; he was none other than Meng Yi, the high-ranking official.

Meng Yi was Meng Tian's younger brother. He was cautious, capable, and deeply trusted by Ying Zheng.

During this eastern tour, Meng Tian led an army of 300,000 to garrison Shangjun, and Meng Yi accompanied him, responsible for conveying imperial edicts.

Ying Zheng tilted his head slightly and spoke in a somewhat hoarse voice: "Minister Meng."

"Your subject is here," Meng Yi's voice came from outside the carriage.

"Where are we now?"

After a brief silence, Meng Yi's voice rang out again: "Your Majesty, we are almost at the sand dunes."

dune.

The name flashed through Ying Zheng's mind.

Sand dunes are located in Julu County, not far from Xingtai.

This place... seems familiar.

He frowned slightly, pondered for a moment, but had no intention of delving deeper.

Is there any news about Xu Fu?

Several months ago, he once again dispatched the alchemist Xu Fu with three thousand boys and girls, carrying seeds of five grains and various craftsmen, to sail east across the sea to the legendary immortal mountains of Penglai, Fangzhang, and Yingzhou in search of the elixir of immortality.

When Xu Fu left, he made a solemn vow that he would definitely find the immortal mountain, obtain the elixir of immortality, and present it to His Majesty.

But months passed without any news.

Ying Zheng gazed blankly at the azure sky outside the carriage.

The sky was high and the clouds were light; a few birds flew by freely.

He suddenly felt a pang of envy for those birds; at least they could soar freely between heaven and earth.

He, the emperor, could not even step out of the carriage door more than a few steps.

He knows his own physical condition best.

These past few coughs of blood have left me feeling weaker day by day, and I'm even finding it difficult to handle official documents.

He feared that once he exposed these things, the undercurrents in the court would be completely out of control.

Fusu...

Ying Zheng closed his eyes, and the face of his eldest son, Fusu, appeared in his mind.

This son is good in every way; he is kind, virtuous, and generous, and is deeply loved by the people.

That is precisely why he so highly praised the Confucian doctrine of benevolent governance.

This led to a fierce conflict between his will and the burning of books and burying of scholars alive, ultimately resulting in his exile to Shangjun in a fit of anger to supervise Meng Tian's army in building the Great Wall.

In fact, Ying Zheng knew in his heart that what Fusu said might not be entirely unreasonable.

But he was the emperor.

The emperor of the Qin Dynasty.

His will is beyond question.

"Your Majesty, there has been no news from Xu Fu."

Meng Yi's voice interrupted Ying Zheng's thoughts.

There is no news.

Again, there was no news.

When Xu Fu last set sail, he brought back countless rare treasures, but he didn't find the elixir of immortality that he wanted.

Xu Fu said that he was unable to get close to the immortal mountain because he encountered a huge whale that blocked his way.

He believed it, and not only that, he personally took a crossbow and went out to sea to shoot and kill a giant whale, clearing the way for Xu Fu's next voyage.

As for the sacred mountains, as for the elixirs...

Ying Zheng rubbed his temples, which were throbbing slightly.

He did have his doubts about Xu Fu.

With his intelligence, how could he not see the flaws in Xu Fu's words? Yet he chose to believe them.

Or rather, he had no choice but to believe it.

Because that was his last hope.

The carriage continued on its way, its wheels grinding against the loess road with a dull rumbling sound.

The armored soldiers on both sides of the procession marched in unison, their banners fluttering in the wind, and the huge character "Qin" on them dancing in the breeze.

Ying Zheng leaned against the brocade cushion, feeling the life force constantly draining from his body.

It's a strange feeling, like holding a handful of sand in your hand. No matter how tightly you grip it, the sand will slip through your fingers little by little, and you can't hold onto it no matter what.

He suddenly remembered many things.

I remembered the trembling young boy who sat on the throne when he ascended the throne at the age of thirteen.

He recalled the exhilaration of wielding power after assuming personal rule, eliminating Lü Buwei and Lao Ai in one fell swoop, and truly seizing control.

I recalled the ten years of war that led to the destruction of Han, the defeat of Zhao, the attack on Wei, the capture of Chu, the conquest of Yan, the pacification of Qi, and the unification of the world.

He recalled his ambition to call himself "First Emperor" and hope that future generations would "become emperors, emperors, and emperors for ten thousand generations, and be passed down without end."

I recalled the exhilarating feeling of touring the country and inscribing eulogies on stone tablets in various places.

But now?

Now he is nothing more than a patient huddled in the carriage, struggling even to breathe.

A foundation for generations to come.

Oh.

Even a dynasty that lasts for generations requires a person to live on it.

The cough returned, this time even more severe.

Ying Zheng's body trembled violently, his arched back resembling that of a boiled shrimp.

He desperately covered his mouth, but a few drops of blood still splattered from between his fingers, a shocking sight.

"Your Majesty?" Meng Yi keenly sensed the abnormality inside the carriage, his voice tinged with worry.

"It's alright," Ying Zheng replied with a forced voice, his voice so hoarse it was almost unlike his own.

He slowly straightened up, looking at the bloodstains on his hands and robes, a trace of resentment flashing in his eyes.

unwilling.

I'm really not happy about it.

He swept across six kingdoms, unified the world, and established an unprecedented feat.

But fate was cruel; he didn't even live to be fifty.

Are all those achievements he longed to accomplish, all those foundations he wanted to build for future generations, going to come to an abrupt end like this?

Fusu.

Fusu must be summoned back to Xianyang.

This idea became increasingly clear in Ying Zheng's mind.

He was the First Emperor of Qin, and his affairs after his death had to be properly arranged.

Fusu was his eldest son, kind and benevolent, and deeply loved by the people, making him the most suitable successor.

Although Zhao Gao was shrewd and capable, Ying Zheng knew that Zhao Gao was someone who could be used, but not someone who could be completely trusted.

And then there's Li Si.

Li Si was talented, but he was too shrewd and could not be relied upon in crucial moments.

Ying Zheng took a deep breath, about to summon Meng Yi to deliver the imperial decree, when suddenly—

"Look! What's that?!"

"Heavens...heavens!"

"Immortals! Immortals! There really are immortals!"

Suddenly, a commotion arose outside the car.

The sound came from the front of the procession and quickly spread backward, causing some chaos in the originally orderly marching formation.

The soldiers stopped in their tracks. Some gasped, others whispered, their voices filled with disbelief and shock.

Ying Zheng frowned deeply.

Who dares to be so audacious? How dare they make a fuss with the imperial carriage right in front of them?

He was about to reprimand them when he suddenly noticed the expressions on the faces of the guards outside the carriage window.

They all tilted their heads back, mouths agape, staring blankly at the sky, their expressions shifting between horror and ecstasy, as if they were witnessing something unbelievable.

"An immortal... he really is an immortal..." a guard murmured to himself, forgetting to even grip his long halberd tightly.

Ying Zheng's heart skipped a beat.

Fairy?

Could it be that Xu Fu has returned with the elixir of immortality?

The moment the thought crossed his mind, Ying Zheng found himself unconsciously tightening his grip on the armrest of the brocade cushion.

He opened his mouth, wanting to call Meng Yi in to ask what was going on.

"Meng Qing!" he raised his voice.

"Your Majesty...Your Majesty..." Meng Yi's voice came from outside the carriage. Even he, who was usually so composed, was now trembling slightly. "In the heavens...in the heavens..."

"What is it?!" Ying Zheng asked urgently.

Meng Yi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down: "Your Majesty, a person has appeared in the sky... standing in mid-air, heading towards the imperial carriage."

A person in the sky.

Standing in mid-air.

Ying Zheng was momentarily at a loss for how to react.

He has met many people.

The rulers of six states, strategists, brave generals, and cunning sorcerers.

He thought he had seen everything that should be seen in the world and experienced everything that should be experienced.

But at this moment, Meng Yi's words still stunned him.

People from heaven?

Before the attendant could lift the carriage curtain, Ying Zheng suddenly reached out and pushed open the carriage door. His movements were so swift that they were completely unlike those of a patient who had just been coughing up blood.

The blinding sunlight hit him in the face, making him squint, but soon his eyes widened.

The sky was a clear blue, without a single cloud.

A hundred feet in front of the imperial carriage, a white figure stood in mid-air, his robes fluttering and his long hair flying in the wind.

The person was dressed in white, as white as snow, and seemed to be enveloped in a faint halo under the sunlight.

He stood there quietly in the air, without any tools or anything beneath his feet, just standing there in mid-air.

Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders, swaying gently in the wind, exuding an indescribable ethereal charm.

Ying Zheng froze on the carriage door frame, his eyes fixed on the figure in the sky, not daring to blink.

He was the First Emperor.

At this moment, looking at the white-clad figure standing in mid-air, Ying Zheng felt that his understanding had been completely shattered.

Those were truly people, beings who stood above the heavens.

Hermit.

There really are immortals.

Ying Zheng's lips trembled slightly, and he couldn't utter a word for a long time.

Meng Yi, the guards, the eunuchs, and the civil and military officials accompanying him all looked up at the white figure in the sky, and some of them had already knelt down involuntarily.

An immortal descended from the sky, exuding an air of otherworldly grace, his robes fluttering in the breeze.

Ying Zheng stood at the entrance of the carriage, gazing at the figure for a long time, momentarily stunned.