Ji Xia stared blankly at the scene before him.
He had just sat up from the bed, his head splitting with pain, when he saw that the room he was in was densely packed with people.
At the forefront stood an elderly man with a vigorous demeanor and graying hair, his face filled with fury as he glared at Ji Xia.
Ji Xia's gaze then shifted to the person beside the old man, and his eyes instantly lit up. A female general, clad in black-red armor, stood there—her figure graceful beyond compare, her crimson hair cascading over her shoulders, her features as exquisite as a painting. She was watching him with rapt attention.
But then he quickly realized the severity of the situation.
This woman, more beautiful than any he had ever seen in his life, was holding a sword.
And the most terrifying part? The tip of that sword was pointed directly at him.
"Your Highness! You're awake?"
The old man spoke, his tone laced with regret—as if Ji Xia shouldn't have woken up at all.
"Where... is this?" Ji Xia shook his throbbing head, his face full of confusion.
The moment the words left his mouth, a strange, refreshing sensation flowed into his mind like a clear spring, washing away the pain. Fragments of memories surfaced in his heart.
I'm Ji Xia, the Crown Prince of the Tai Cang Kingdom?
But I remember I was just in my office, meticulously planning for tomorrow's multinational tender project, carefully reviewing the company's strengths and weaknesses...
Then the earth shook violently, cracks instantly spiderwebbed across the walls, and the world spun wildly. When I woke up again, I was here...
Did I... transmigrate?!
As his memories gradually returned, Ji Xia finally pieced together the sequence of events. He had indeed transmigrated—into a nation called Tai Cang, becoming its Crown Prince. And coincidentally, the prince shared his exact name: Ji Xia.
Crown Prince?
A flicker of doubt crossed his mind before another fragment of memory arrived. Images flowed through his consciousness like a film reel.
This was not the Earth he knew. This was a terrifying, savage world.
Countless races and nations struggled to survive in this boundless land. And humanity? They were one of the weakest races in existence.
Thus, human nations survived under the dominion of other races, clinging to life in the narrow gaps between destruction.
Tai Cang, where Ji Xia now found himself, was one such small human nation.
To its south lay the Gou Quan Kingdom, to its west the Zhou Qing Kingdom, and to its north surged the Fu Chong River—infested with demonic creatures just waiting for humans to serve as snacks to "clean their teeth."
And the east? The east was even more horrifying.
There, a colossal mountain slumbered—its name, Da Huang.
No one knew what fortuitous encounter this mountain had experienced, but over time, it had developed consciousness. According to Tai Cang's historical records, six hundred years ago, the nation of the Ant People that once dwelled here was annihilated beneath Da Huang's bulk.
Had the Ant People provoked it?
No. Da Huang had been asleep for centuries. The reason the Ant People perished—their nation and race wiped out—was because the mountain had turned over in its sleep.
One casual roll.
And an entire civilization was flattened.
Ji Xia's jaw dropped as he absorbed this memory. As a man raised on over twenty years of materialist values, the sheer absurdity of these revelations was staggering.
Weren't humans supposed to be the pinnacle of creation? How did we become the weakest race here?
And how can a mountain develop sentience? How can it sleep? And if it sleeps, why does it need to turn over? You're a MOUNTAIN, for heaven's sake!
"Crown Prince, have you lost your memory?"
A melodious voice interrupted Ji Xia's spiraling thoughts. He turned toward the sound—it was the black-and-red-armored female general.
Simultaneously, more memories surged forth.
This woman was none other than Ji Qianqing, a legendary general of Tai Cang.
Her story was one of defiance and brilliance. Against her family's wishes, she had joined the Tai Cang military at fifteen. In just nine years, she had been exceptionally promoted to the rank of Grand General by the Tai Cang King himself.
No one dared question it. In countless battles against Gou Quan and Zhou Qing, she had turned defeat into victory, amassing unparalleled achievements. Were it not for last month's catastrophic meteor disaster, Tai Cang's military might would have been strong enough to at least hold its own against its two neighboring nations.
All thanks to Ji Qianqing.
Moreover, she was Tai Cang's youngest Ninth Heaven powerhouse—reaching that pinnacle at just twenty-four. Such talent was monstrous even among humans.
And now, this very legend stood before him, sword in hand, her gaze inscrutable as she studied Ji Xia on the bed.
Uncertain of the situation but steadied by his past life's composure, Ji Xia spoke: "This Crown Prince is fine now. All ministers and generals may withdraw..."
Ji Qianqing took a step forward. Her blade traced a graceful arc before embedding itself into the bed's edge.
"Your Highness, the interrogator merely gave you a light kick earlier, yet you fainted. Now that you're awake, we shall continue."
Ji Xia was baffled. The stream of memories hadn't fully settled, and now another officer's words left him even more lost.
"Crown Prince, even if you've truly gone mad today, you must surrender the Tai Cang Royal Decree. You will be stripped of your title, expelled from the imperial lineage, and imprisoned in the Dark Dungeon—never to see daylight again!"
Seeing Ji Xia's innocent expression, the elderly man snorted coldly. "As a scion of Tai Cang's royal house, your past tyranny and arrogance were overlooked. But now, when Tai Cang has just suffered a meteor's wrath—when our people starve within our borders and three thousand Gou Quan Warhounds prowl outside—you dare commit a sin worthy of divine retribution!"
Ji Xia glanced around the room. The black-robed ministers and black-armored generals all radiated fury, their eyes burning with the desire to tear him apart.
Thinking quickly, he raised his voice. "What unspeakable crime have I committed? Where is Father? Father, save me! These traitors are trying to kill me!"
"You patricidal wretch! How dare you speak of the late king?!" The old man's rage erupted at Ji Xia's mention of his father.
Ji Xia thought he'd misheard. He swallowed hard. "P-Patricide?"
Tears streamed down the elder's face. "The late king dedicated his life to Tai Cang, all so our people might escape the slaughter and oppression of other races! Yet in the end, he didn't fall to foreign blades—he was killed by his own unfilial son! Oh, late king... your death is too unjust!"
The old man's grief spread like wildfire. The assembled officials and nobles all choked back sobs, wailing for their lost king, knocking their foreheads against the floor in anguish.
Ji Xia watched awkwardly, internally cursing the original owner of this body. What kind of trash was this guy?!
Finally, the stream of memories fully merged with his mind.
More recollections gushed forth like a geyser.
A month ago, a meteor had fallen from the sky—directly onto the barracks of Tai Cang's elite Wei Army. Under its "blessing," the force that had once allowed Tai Cang to resist its neighbors was reduced to dust.
Worse, the crater emitted a terrifying spiritual pressure. Any who strayed too close were crushed into bloody pulp.
The nation had mourned. The Tai Cang King issued a decree of self-blame, offering nine days of sacrifices to the heavens—even slicing flesh from his own right arm as tribute. Only on the tenth day did the pressure begin to fade, vanishing completely by the nineteenth.
But new crises arose.
Seizing Tai Cang's weakness, Gou Quan amassed troops at the border. Without the Wei Army, resistance was impossible.
If Gou Quan invaded, Tai Cang's people would become slaves, playthings—or food.
To avert disaster, the king sent six envoys to Gou Quan to sue for peace. After six deaths and nearly the entire national treasury's wealth, Gou Quan finally sent an emissary.
Their terms?
Six hundred boys. Six hundred girls.
And Tai Cang's national treasure—the Tai Cang Jade.
In exchange, Gou Quan would grant them three more years of survival.
Six hundred boys and girls meant over a thousand families torn apart. The king's heart bled; sleep became impossible.
Yet compared to his people's lives, even the vast spiritual power within the jade meant nothing.
When the news spread, thousands of youths knelt outside the palace overnight, volunteering to die for Tai Cang—for humanity.
Parents stood behind them, weeping but not stopping their children.
To them, sacrifice in times of crisis was duty.
The king ascended the city walls, bowing in gratitude to his people. Six hundred boys and girls were chosen. Their eyes, fixed on the crumbling streets below, brimmed with sorrow—but not fear.
And then, in this moment of national grief, came the report:
The Crown Prince, Ji Xia, had been fooling around with the Tai Cang Jade freshly retrieved from the treasury.
And the worst part?
This idiot had shattered it.
The king, already wounded from a battle with a Gou Quan general, his body unhealed, his spirit worn thin from two months of desperate strategizing—had been on the verge of securing Tai Cang's respite.
And now, at the final step, it had all collapsed.
"So... I angered Father to death?"
Ji Xia sighed heavily, addressing the crowd before him.