The autumn wind swept through the air.

The sunlight slanted warmly toward dusk.

At this hour, Mingdao Palace in Bozhou Weizhen County of Huainan East Circuit in the Great Song—later known as Luyi—lay beneath shifting light and shadow, the air crisp and gentle.

Not only that, but throughout this vast complex, which served both as a temple and an imperial lodge, fully armed soldiers and nobles in crimson and purple could be seen everywhere.

Countless civil and military officials of the Great Song were stationed here.

On the highest rear hill, where defenses were strict and order was flawless, several triple-tailed dragon banners fluttered in the wind.

Anyone with basic understanding knew these were Golden Guard Dragon Banners, reserved exclusively for the emperor.

Where the dragon banner stood, it meant the sovereign of the Zhao Song dynasty was present.

This scene was not rare.

The emperors of Great Song had always revered Daoism.

The previous emperor was even known as the Daoist Sovereign.

Mingdao Palace—birthplace of the Daoist patriarch—was built by Emperor Zhenzong.

Thus, it was only natural for the emperor to stop and offer sacrifices here.

However, unlike the grand spectacle when Emperor Zhenzong once worshipped the Daoist ancestor at this place, the atmosphere in this imperial garden today was heavy and solemn.

There were far too many armored officers and soldiers.

The scholarly ministers, who normally enjoyed poetry and refined gatherings, showed no hint of leisure.

Even when they met in pairs or small groups over wine, worry clouded all their faces.

Of course they were worried.

Ever since the Jingkang Disaster, the Jin army had invaded the south.

The Two Emperors had been carried away to the north.

Rebellions flared everywhere.

The Great Song had fallen to the edge of life and death, and fear of national ruin was no exaggeration.

What made matters worse was that the newly enthroned emperor—on the throne for barely two months—had suffered a bizarre mishap.

The Zhao clan had long revered Daoism.

Thus, a few days ago, when the emperor’s procession passed by on the way to Huaidian to prepare for resisting the Jin, he naturally stopped to pay respects at Mingdao Palace.

But after completing the ritual, while strolling through the gardens, the young emperor suddenly toppled headfirst into the Nine-Dragon Well near the palace in full view of hundreds of officials and fainted.

He merely lost consciousness.

He awoke after half a day, and both chief councillors visited him.

But the problem was this: though the young and strong emperor—who could ride half a day and draw a five-stone bow—seemed physically fine, he did not continue his planned southern march.

Recently, he had appeared only once in public, accompanied by the Senior Commandant of the Palace Service, Kang Lü, and then remained inactive.

Yet two months earlier, after ascending the throne in Nanjing (Shangqiu), the court had undergone fierce power struggles.

One remonstrator and two imperial students died.

A grand councillor was dismissed.

Only after this turmoil did they finalize the southern strategy toward Huaidian and then Yangzhou.

The empress dowager had already gone ahead to Yangzhou.

Many princes traveled with the procession.

Financial ministers had gone to Huaiyang and Jiangnan to gather funds.

The imperial marshals and commanders were pacifying nearby rebellions to secure the roads.

Even most of the palace service commandants had gone ahead to clear the way.

Yet the most crucial figure—the emperor—had traveled barely a hundred li before stopping here in Bozhou.

What did this mean?

Fear spread throughout the traveling court.

Rumors circulated.

Some said the emperor, though uninjured, had damaged his mind.

He no longer recognized Lady Pan or Kang Lü.

He might have become another Emperor Hui of Song.

Thus the chief councillors and Kang Lü dared not leave.

Others said the emperor, being devout in Daoism, believed falling into the well was a divine warning from the Daoist ancestor, urging him not to travel south.

So he changed his mind and wanted to remain in the Central Plains to resist the Jin.

Then came even more ridiculous tales.

Kang Lü imprisoning the emperor and replacing him with a doppelgänger.

The Daoist ancestor sending dreams and commanding divine generals to descend.

As long as the procession remained halted at Mingdao Palace, the rumors grew more absurd.

Fortunately, after Jingkang, only one legitimate heir of the Zhao imperial line remained.

Otherwise who knew what chaos might have erupted.

"Your Majesty’s archery is excellent!"

While fear spread through the traveling court, the highest ground behind the main hall—the very center of the storm—held a different scene.

The emperor, as usual before sunset, had just loosed two full quivers beneath the dragon banner.

As soon as he stopped, Kang Lü hurried forward to flatter and inquire.

"Does Your Majesty also wish to dine with the guards today?"

"Why not?"

The emperor—wearing a red round-collared archer’s robe, appearing around twenty, tall and handsome in true Zhao fashion—smiled calmly.
"Or does Commandant Kang have something to say?"

"What matter could I have?"
Kang Lü, in his thirties and currently the only Senior Commandant of the Palace Service present, sighed.
"Lady Pan asked me to come. She has not seen Your Majesty for many days and misses you dearly. I thought perhaps…"

The emperor awkwardly squeezed the hard bow and turned his head away.

"And didn’t Your Majesty say after your injury that you wanted ice cream?"
Kang Lü quickly circled in front of him.
"Lady Pan made some herself today. It would be good for Your Majesty to visit, and also see the imperial heir."

"Is that so?"

The young emperor paused, hesitated, then sighed.
"Forget it. Have it sent over. I will dine with the guards."

"Your Majesty!"

Kang Lü became so anxious that he even abandoned the intimate term of address—“Your Grace”—used only by him.
"Lady Pan made it with her own hands. How could it be served to the guards? What propriety is that?
Even Your Majesty should not dine with the guards.
If word spreads, the officials will claim Your Majesty scorns scholars and favors warriors."

"Since Jingkang, what propriety remains in Great Song?"
The emperor mocked coldly.
"If we still had propriety, how would we end up like this?
As for scholars’ dissatisfaction, they show no dissatisfaction toward Jin iron cavalry, yet somehow they reserve it all for me?"

He ignored Kang Lü and walked out of the hall.

Kang Lü hurried after him, but several armed guards stepped forward and blocked him.

Panicking, Kang Lü signaled to a lightly armored officer.

The tall, stern officer lowered his head slightly and followed after the emperor, their nominal sovereign.

The guards who blocked Kang Lü immediately stepped aside for this officer, showing clear respect.

Zhao Jiu—the emperor—saw all this from the corner of his eye but remained expressionless.

Outside the hall, he did not seek anyone to dine with.

He stood on the slope behind the hall, gazing into the distance.

After estimating that Kang Lü had gone to handle confidential documents, he turned back to the officer.

"Yang, please go fetch Lady Pan’s ice cream for me, and thank her for her trouble."

Yang, the chamberlain, was caught off guard but obeyed immediately.

Zhao Jiu then walked down the slope toward the military camp below, where horse calls never stopped.

Yes.

It was Zhao Jiu—not Zhao Gou.

The emperor truly had been possessed, just as the rumors said.

Kang Lü and the young officer Yang Yizhong—one civil, one military—were genuinely concerned about their “recently injured” emperor.

Their attention was not overstepping.

It was real loyalty.

If Zhao Gou’s soul still lingered somewhere, he would be moved to tears.

Of course, the real issue was that the usurper of the emperor’s body was not a demon or fox spirit.

He was an ordinary, innocent person from nine hundred years later.

After graduating university, he had gone home to register his residency.

He stopped by a temple of the Daoist Patriarch for fun.

He helped an old Daoist rescue a dog from the cement-lined Nine-Dragon Well.

Then he woke up as emperor of the Zhao Song.

Who could he possibly complain to?

To the Grand Supreme Elder?
Would the old deity mock him?
‘You caused trouble in Li Er’s temple—what does that have to do with me?’

To be fair, transmigrating into the body of a young emperor was not mistreatment.

If someone orchestrated this, they were already extremely generous.

Sixty years of peaceful rule.

Twenty years to accumulate wealth.

Twenty years to invent steam engines.

Twenty years to colonize the seas.

A massive harem.

Dozens of children.

Hundreds of pets.

His own zoo.

Who wouldn’t enjoy that?

Of course it was tempting.

Lady Pan even smelled nice.

But the problem was—

This emperor was Zhao Gou.

Ninth son.

Known later as Zhao Lao Jiu.

The current era was Jianyan, adopted only two months earlier when he ascended the throne.

Before that, the calendar still read Jingkang Year Two.

In other words, the Jingkang humiliation had already happened.

Northern Song was destroyed.

Hebei and Hedong had fallen.

The Southern Song existed only in theory.

The court was fleeing south with Zhao Lao Jiu, seeking refuge in Yangzhou.

After confirming his transmigration and verifying with his accent and surroundings, Zhao Jiu felt terrible for days.

Zhao Gou’s reputation was awful.

The timing was worse.

Two years earlier he could have attempted a coup before Jingkang.

Two years later he could have awakened safely in Lin’an.

But now?

In the middle of the escape?

The Jin general Wuzhu, who scoured mountains and seas with ten thousand soldiers, was no legend.

Of course, this was his ignorance of history.

Two years earlier he would not have had time for anything.

Two years later this body would have become a eunuch.

That would truly be worse than death.

In short, ever since transmigrating, Zhao Jiu—Zhao Gou—had not enjoyed a single peaceful day.

At first he was devastated and irritable.

Air conditioning, computers, smartphones, hotpot—weren’t they better than being a fleeing emperor?

Especially one of history’s most disgraceful rulers?

Though this body was young and strong, he, as a modern man, felt disgust and discomfort.

And naturally, he missed home.

So on the second night, he tried jumping into the Nine-Dragon Well again, hoping the Daoist ancestor would take pity.

He failed.

After confirming he could not return, he fell into self-pity.

He was only twenty-one in his original world, freshly graduated, immature.

He cried secretly at night.

He threw tantrums.

He demanded ice cream.

He lashed out like a child on a reality show.

Because of this persistent abnormal behavior, Kang Lü and Yang Yizhong grew suspicious.

Under Kang Lü’s supervision, someone always watched him.

Aside from one appearance on the second day, he had been kept from all memorials and officials.

He was clearly being isolated.

Furthermore, Zhao Gou had left behind Lady Pan and a newborn child.

This was awkward for him, but he felt no emotional burden.

His memories had not merged.

He felt nothing.

He even mocked Zhao Gou for failing to protect his wife—who historically had long been dead, though Zhao Gou only learned this many years later.

In Zhao Jiu’s opinion, he could simply settle Lady Pan and the child safely in Jiangnan.

If Zhao Gou’s captured family were ever recovered, he would settle them there too.

That would already be enough repayment for inheriting this strong, healthy body.

And instead of worrying about this, strengthening ties with the soldiers seemed more practical.

Winning their loyalty might save his life.

It would help dissolve Kang Lü and Yang Yizhong’s soft control.

And it would help him gather crucial information.

As for maintaining imperial mystery to preserve authority?

As Zhao Jiu had just said to Kang Lü—
Since Jingkang, how could the Zhao emperor become more disgraceful than he already was?

Finally, one massive problem remained before him.

He had transmigrated into Zhao Gou.

Did that not mean he had to resist the Jin?

Chapter 1: 1. Mingdao Palace

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