Nobita's Time Heist

Having received the assurance, he no longer cared about anything, and his five senses became unusually active due to excitement.

"So, I'll gain power like my master did?"

The hatred in Huang Amao's eyes was like molten lava lying dormant beneath the earth, deeply suppressed. Once the time was right, it would erupt with unimaginable force. And this world, disrupted by Wang Mang, greatly accelerated the process of its eruption.

Parents, sister, relatives, master, villagers... all the bonds he had formed since coming into this world were severed within a few months. He suddenly realized that he had no connection whatsoever with this vast land beneath his feet.

"I can't guarantee what you'll get. You're the first person to go this far. What awaits you ahead may be excruciating pain—more painful than any torture in the world. My potion-making skills aren't that great, but based on my estimation, it should exceed the limits of what the human body can endure, right?"

He started uttering words that Huang Amao couldn't understand, as if he wasn't going to keep up the act any longer.

"Imagine cutting a gash in the back of your neck and pouring molten lava down your spine, filling your entire body... that's roughly what it feels like."

As he vividly described the scene, the yellow-robed Taoist priest sneered, “You will scream, you will wail, you will beg for mercy, you will do everything you can’t even imagine right now. But this process is irreversible, so when it’s all over, when you’ve endured this immense pain that mortals cannot even comprehend… you will get what you want.”

"Of course, you don't have to endure all this. You can continue to live as a normal person and find a place to take refuge. Don't you have the skill of gathering herbs and treating illnesses? With that, you might be able to survive and have food to eat, right?"

The Taoist chuckled twice. "However, if you intend to choose the latter, my personal advice is to stay far away from the north, as that place is about to become unsettled."

……

The choice is yours.

Huang Amao looked at the huge ginseng in his hand, suddenly laughed, and a hint of madness appeared in his eyes.

As if sensing his emotions, all of the ginseng's tentacles stopped struggling at that moment, and instead, like lovers, gently wrapped around his arm. From within the roots, some even finer hairs pierced through the thin fabric of his arm, took root in his body, and merged with his flesh and blood.

It yearns to become a part of this boy forever, as food.

"Not long ago, I... I should say 'we,' we chose Wang Mang, and this is the result..."

Huang Amao looked around at the desolate and dilapidated scenery, his strength relaxed, and he turned around to give him a smile of utter relief.

"I have no choice."

……

The moment it raised its hand, the Ghost Ginseng suddenly broke free from the constraints of being a "plant." Its roots spread out like a squid swimming in the air, instantly grabbing Huang Amao's face! A loud "smack" was heard, the force so great it almost snapped his neck backward. Not only that, all its roots extended into Huang Amao's mouth, tearing his jaw open to create a larger "gap," allowing its entire body to continue burrowing inside.

"Waaah...waaah...waaah..."

"laugh--!!"

His entire face was ripped open, and sticky blood splattered out, but Huang Amao only instinctively raised his hand and did not try to tear off the ginseng that was sticking to his face.

He simply stood there calmly and tragically, like a motionless stone statue, letting blood spurt from his jaw and face, spilling onto the ground.

Having absorbed the boy's passion, the ginseng's color deepened, and soon its main body had burrowed into Huang Amao's "mouth." The discomfort in his throat made him want to bend over and gag, but he stubbornly resisted the urge to swallow the foreign object. His stomach quickly filled up, becoming bulging like a sandbag.

Even after being swallowed, it didn't find peace; the stomach acid was simply insufficient to digest such a large ginseng. Countless tentacles burrowed painfully under its skin, causing it to swell from the inside.

Its entire face was ripped apart like that of the Slit-Mouthed Woman due to the brutal intrusion—the jaw could no longer close, and a deep, bone-revealing slit was torn along the philtrum above the lips. Blood was slowly trickling down the face.

His eyes were almost lifeless.

His body is about to be reborn.

……

“Even the most powerful heretical cultivators pluck its tendrils and eat them one by one like tonics. This is the first time I’ve ever seen someone swallow the entire ghost ginseng in one gulp.” The yellow-robed Taoist looked at him; he seemed unchanged, as if nothing had changed from before. “So, how does it feel?”

"Do you feel like you've been reborn?"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Huang Amao stood quietly, his head turned to one side, watching the rising sun. His eyes were fixed, his voice was barely audible, and with each word he uttered, he coughed up several blood bubbles, yet he still murmured incessantly.

"I...I don't understand...I don't understand..."

"The sun is so red... why..."

"Is it still so cold?"

Chapter 226: My Name

"Yes, why is that?" The Taoist priest turned his head and looked at the sun hanging in the sky. Just as the boy said, it was unusually cold, like a curtain hanging in the sky. He murmured and sighed, "Perhaps it is because the radiance of the sky has never truly shone on you for a moment."

"Ah……"

A smile suddenly appeared on Huang Amao's blank face, as if he had been enlightened and suddenly understood everything. The tentacles of the ghost ginseng writhed beneath his skin, transforming his face into a sheepskin mask, making the smile even more terrifying. It frantically sucked the boy's flesh and blood and hatred, consuming one part and spitting out three. His bones and flesh were rapidly reconstructing, and his skin rippled like water broken by a stone.

To his surprise, Huang Amao didn't shout, howl, or wail. He just stood there quietly, staring at the rising sun, his pupils dilated, his eyes glazed over, as if he had seen a real god.

"Don't you feel any pain?"

"...It hurts...it hurts so much..." he murmured, his breath weak, almost a lisp, but as he turned his head, a creaking sound came out. The corners of his split lips slowly curled up, squeezing out a bloody smile.

"But it's much better than staying in the pot."

"To be honest, young man, even though I had prepared myself mentally, the cruelty and barbarity of this era still far exceeded my imagination." The yellow-robed Taoist put his hands behind his back, looked at the boundary of the surrounding mountains, and murmured, "After everything is over, today will be the day of your rebirth."

"As a memento, I'll give myself a new name."

……

"A surname is bestowed by one's parents and ancestors, and it will not be changed even if I turn into a pile of bones or a handful of dust."

The pain within his body reached its peak; Huang Amao no longer had the strength to speak, and layers of thick, oily sweat dripped from his forehead. Tentacles, mixed with blood, sprouted from his skin and wrapped around his body. He could feel his own will gradually fading, replaced by something "greater." It resembled him somewhat, yet it was not himself, but a monster brewing from blood and hatred.

More and more tentacles coiled around him, sucking up the blood leaking from his body.

As for the name, perhaps it should be changed.

Yes, let's choose another one.

What should we change it to?

What should I change it to...?

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The scene of the bird's nest falling from the tree flashed through his mind once more, as if it were etched into the depths of his soul. From the gaps in the nest, the egg white and yolk slowly seeped out, and under the cold sun, they suddenly turned into blood!

Shouts of killing erupted. Huang Amao slightly turned his gaze and clearly saw the land that had given him birth and nurtured him being thrown into the fire, while cries of agony and pleas for mercy rose from all sides. However, in this apocalyptic world, these were the most useless sounds.

Broken bird nests, broken earth.

"Yes, that's how it is." He suddenly realized, his gaze sweeping over the bird's nest where steam rose from the blood, and murmured, "It's already beyond saving."

He slowly took a step, the blood clinging to his body dripping onto the ground, leaving a dark red trail. At this moment, enduring unbearable pain all over his body, he moved step by step towards the bird's nest. The boy stared intently at it, the blood dripping onto it, mingling with the seeping egg white, turning into a bright, ruby-red hue.

Beneath the ferocious smile lay an inexplicable innocence, like a child who, after much effort, had finally found the correct solution to a problem.

His whole body trembled as he lifted his right foot.

but……

The moment his right foot landed, the boy's body tensed up, moving quickly and fiercely, as if his blood-covered appearance was just an illusion.

"Snapped!"

As if he harbored some deep-seated grudge, crushing them wasn't enough; he had to grind them under his feet, grinding them relentlessly! A crunching sound came from beneath his feet as the boy crushed twigs, pebbles, and broken eggshells mixed in—the unhatched birds—one by one. He himself seemed to derive some kind of pleasure from this, a sinister smile spreading across his face.

"The world is in their hands. Whoever comes, the result will be the same. Since that's the case... let's just start over from scratch..." He came to what he believed to be the correct conclusion, feeling the blood-stained earth beneath his feet, and said in a deep voice, "Everything, everything, everything... let's start over!"

"Have you made up your mind?" the yellow-robed Taoist priest asked with a smile.

"Ah, it's settled."

Looking at the cold sun one last time, the boy opened his mouth, letting the dry, cold air pass through his gums and into his throat.

“My name is Huang [Chao], the nest built by those royal family members and court officials…”

"I'll be the one to crush it!"

……

"boom--------!!!"

Having acquired a new name and completely abandoned his old one and body, the roots of the Ghost Ginseng spread out instantly, piercing through his entire body. A burst of light and heat erupted, razing the deserted village to the ground in an instant. The yellow-robed Taoist was swept up in the blazing light, and before he was completely vaporized into smoke, he looked at the dazzling light and finally revealed a satisfied smile.

When the smoke and dust cleared, a giant eighty meters tall stood on this desolate land.

His body was incredibly hot, with steam constantly spewing from the gaps in his muscles and bones, swirling around him and forming a spectacle resembling a fairy's feathered ribbon. His body swelled to be larger than a mountain, yet showed no flaws; its proportions remained human, only his limbs were slightly longer. His skin turned a deep yellow, like earth and stone, and on his face, his jaw was completely split open, with countless tentacles extending from his mouth, dancing wildly in the air and emitting shrill, terrifying screams.

His fist gradually clenched, and a muffled thunderous sound erupted from between his knuckles.

The giant's head slowly turned, looking in Chang An's direction. A burning rage of revenge ignited in its empty gaze. This time, there was no room for Scarlet to intervene; countless extreme emotions merged together, transforming into an irreversible blackness.

"Roar------!!!"

With a roar, the mountains and rivers trembled, and the surrounding forests shook violently.

With one last look at his homeland, the giant slowly turned around and began to walk.

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

On this ravaged land, a true "egalitarian" has emerged. He is slowly and steadily walking towards Chang'an.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Your Majesty, the 300,000-strong army has been assembled and is ready to attack at any time, but..."

"Just what?" Wang Mang asked impatiently.

"However... intelligence from the front lines indicates that the generals all say that the continuous rain and cold weather, coupled with insufficient food supplies, have made it unsuitable for battle. Therefore, they will temporarily use the Great Wall as a fortress, remain steadfast, and wait for the Xiongnu to reveal a weakness before launching a major offensive and defeating them in one fell swoop..."

"enough!"

With a loud crash, this was the umpteenth time Wang Mang had lost his temper in this room, but this time his anger was particularly intense, to the point that he overturned the entire table. When the emperor is enraged, all the officials naturally follow suit and kneel down, forming a collective display of power. Seeing that the war meeting was about to break down, Wang Mang could only wave his hand, signaling them to leave immediately.

……

"Can it really work?" His voice was already very anxious in the empty room.

"Rest assured, Your Majesty." The yellow-robed Taoist slowly emerged from his shadow, bowing deeply. "I guarantee it will be alright."

Chapter 227: Why be so persistent?!

"I have staked everything on this war... Even though I am not good at military tactics, I know that there is a big problem at the front!"

Wang Mang leaned back in his chair with a particularly unrestrained posture, staring at the simple sand table before him. As early as the Han Dynasty, the territory within the country's borders had already taken shape, and sand tables naturally came into being. North of the border, a considerable number of soldiers had been amassed, and these pieces were becoming increasingly conspicuous in Wang Mang's eyes.

A prolonged siege without attack can be fatally damaging to morale. As the ancients said, "One should strike with full force at the first drumbeat, then weaken at the second, and be exhausted at the third." Warfare is all about that burst of energy and spirit; you have to keep the young, strong men in high spirits. After the battle, peace will reign, and good days will come. And if you earn military merit, there will be corresponding rewards and honors.

Exploiting human desires, Wang Mang waited until the Xiongnu were bursting with testosterone and had nowhere to release it before sending them onto the battlefield. With overwhelming force, they crushed the scattered enemy forces. Wang Mang knew his army hadn't yet been tested in real combat, and against a slightly stronger opponent, the outcome was uncertain. His expectations weren't too high: to launch a decisive attack while the army was united and at its peak morale. The Xiongnu were mostly fighting independently, lacking any organized army; they crumbled at the first charge, and Wang Mang returned in triumph, halting the downward spiral.

Wang Mang was brimming with confidence about this plan, believing it would be a sure thing. Similar victories had been achieved a century earlier, when the Xiongnu were far stronger than they were today. Now, a hundred years later, the Xin Dynasty was undoubtedly strong and well-supplied, and the Xiongnu's fighting force was certainly smaller than it had been a century ago, making a victory a certainty.

No matter how much you plan, you can't predict people's hearts.

Such incentives might only entice ordinary soldiers. Those who held important positions in the army were mostly scions of powerful families. Whether they had military merit or not, they lived good lives. Moreover, this wasn't some war that would lead to national extinction if not fought; it was purely Wang Mang's whim to suddenly declare that he wanted to go abroad to fight the Xiongnu, who had been peaceful for a hundred years. It would be a miracle if he could even muster any enthusiasm.

Thus, the army remained stationed in the northern border, refusing to advance, much to the misfortune of the local people. They hadn't even seen the Xiongnu, and their own bandits were already causing them enough trouble; the little bit of hard-earned money they had managed to accumulate was quickly looted by these military thugs. However, when this news reached Chang'an, it didn't elicit the slightest attention from Wang Mang—he was too preoccupied with that at the moment.

"Strong and well-equipped" is an adjective that is in progress.

The Qin army unified the six states, yet Qin was destroyed by the Han. The Han army wiped out the Xiongnu, yet Han was destroyed by the Xin. An army is composed of individuals, and it is constantly changing; there is no army that is forever powerful. If logistics cannot keep up, even the most capable army is nothing but a pile of mud.

Wang Mang began to realize that he had oversimplified the situation. He had calculated that the food rations for these 300,000 people could last for about half a year, but he hadn't anticipated that it would take about five times that amount of food to get the food for these 300,000 people to the front lines! Especially now, before the war had even truly begun, all kinds of supplies were already melting away like snowflakes falling into hot coals.

If they paused any longer, the ignited passion would dissipate, and the young men would realize that war was a life-or-death struggle, not a sure-fire way to make money. By the time they realized this, their morale would plummet, and if they fought again then, they might be easily defeated by the Huns! The consequences... he didn't even want to think about them.

"Your Majesty yearns for a world where everyone is equal, which is a remarkable wish." The yellow-robed Taoist's voice was sinister. He looked into the distance as if confirming something, then curled his lips into a gloomy smile. "I have no ability, but I want to see such a world with my own eyes."

"Is that so?" Wang Mang looked at him with some suspicion. From the very beginning, he had no idea what this Taoist was up to. But every time the Taoist talked with him, he always had something insightful to say, as if he were speaking in accordance with Wang Mang's inner thoughts, which made Wang Mang feel quite gratified.

“But those powerful families don’t think that way. Slaves, land, gold and silver, power… they don’t want to let go of any of them. The more I pressure them, the tighter they hold on to them, and at the same time, their hostility towards the new dynasty increases.”

A series of failed reforms inevitably led to a sense of frustration even for this highly proactive emperor.

"It's one thing for the powerful families to resist, but I thought at least the common people would stand by my side. I never expected that they would rather be slaves to other families than subjects of the new dynasty." At this point, his tone became very distressed. "I have put in so much effort for the reform, but in the end, this is the result... Such is the way things are, it's truly incomprehensible."

The Taoist priest listened attentively to every word he said and smiled meaningfully.

"Your Majesty, please forgive my bluntness."

"Do you still need 'forgiveness'?" Wang Mang rarely spoke with a sarcastic tone. "Haven't you always said whatever you wanted?"

“A truly equal world cannot be achieved in your hands.” The yellow-robed Taoist spoke without any reservation, and before Wang Mang’s expression changed slightly but before he became angry, he continued, “Before becoming emperor, you were the representative of a powerful and influential family. Whether you admit it or not, it is a fact. When the world was still ruled by the Liu family, the Wang family was the most powerful of all families.”

"Born into a wealthy family, you received an education befitting that status. As a result, your way of dealing with people has been deeply ingrained in you."

"So what?" Wang Mang asked, puzzled. "Before Emperor Gaozu of Han rose to power, he was just a minor official in Pei County."