"Her Majesty seeks capable ministers for a prosperous reign! A beast like you, who only knows how to listen to tunes in brothels, dares to tear down the imperial notice? If I don't break your dog legs today, I will personally apologize to our ancestors!"
The majestic roar exploded like thunder, making Zhang Tian's eardrums ache.
He woke up groggily, feeling as if his brain had been shoved into a blender, throbbing with a splitting pain.
Tearing a notice? What notice?
He clearly remembered pulling an all-nighter in the office to finish that damned business proposal. He was just about to unplug the power and go home for a nap when a sudden numbness hit his fingertip, and his consciousness plunged into endless darkness.
Zhang Tian opened his eyes subconsciously, only to gasp at the sight before him.
He was currently sprawled across a high courtyard wall in an extremely undignified posture, half his backside hanging in the air, swaying precariously.
Below him was a grand ancient residence. A crowd of servants and maids stood in a chaotic mess, holding out their hands in panic: "Young master, calm down! Don't be impulsive!"
At the front of the crowd, a middle-aged man in dark purple official robes was shaking with rage. Though he held no staff, his eyes looked as if they wanted to swallow Zhang Tian alive.
"You beast! I'll give you three breaths' time. Get down here and meet your death!"
A nameless fire surged in Zhang Tian's heart.
As a high-level 21st-century corporate slave, it was bad enough to take crap from his boss at the company. How could he be called a "beast" by a strange man after just a nap?
The rebellious streak buried within this wage slave, though worn down by years of KPIs, had not been extinguished!
"It's a society of law! Who are you trying to act like a thug with?" Zhang Tian stiffened his neck and barked back without thinking, "Old bastard, keep your mouth clean! If you keep spewing filth, believe it or not, I'll punch your dog eyes out!"
Dead silence.
The entire Marquis Dingguo Residence fell into a state of frozen shock. The servants looked like they had seen a ghost.
"He's mad... The eldest young master must have gone crazy from staying up all night. He actually dares to speak to the Master like that!"
Nearby, an elegant middle-aged noblewoman trembled. The priceless jade Ruyi in her hand fell with a clack, shattering into pieces. She didn't even notice, staring in horror at her son on the wall.
The middle-aged man—Marquis Zhang Feng—was pale with rage. His chest heaved violently as he roared:
"You beast... You dare speak to your father like this?!"
Zhang Tian, still not realizing the situation, sneered, "Still trying to take advantage of me? I might as well say I'm your father!"
"You... You unfilial wretch!" Zhang Feng laughed in sheer anger and roared, "Someone! Bring the ladder! Bring my great saber! Rather than letting this beast offend Her Majesty and implicate the entire Zhang family, I will personally clean out my house today before apologizing to the Empress!"
Seeing the servants bring a ladder and a cold, gleaming saber, Zhang Tian's heart skipped a beat.
That glint wasn't a prop!
The smell of real earth, the rough texture of the wall bricks—everything reminded him:
Dammit, I've actually transmigrated.
Buzz—
A massive flood of memories surged into his brain. Zhang Tian's vision blurred as he finally realized his situation.
This was the Great Wu Dynasty.
His father, Zhang Feng, was the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, a high-ranking official.
His grandfather, Zhang Jinlong, was a three-reign veteran and a God of War in the military.
And he... was the capital's most notorious dissolute heir, a master of every vice imaginable.
Worse yet, two months ago, Empress Wu Zhao ascended the throne amidst internal rebellion and external threats. To break the deadlock, she issued the "Decree of Seeking Talent," claiming she would hire anyone with talent regardless of their background.
Yesterday, the original Zhang Tian got drunk and, to show off in front of his friends, tore down the imperial notice in broad daylight!
In the Empress's eyes, tearing the notice meant you had a plan to save the country. In his father's eyes, it meant he was seeking a death sentence for the whole family.
Zhang Tian watched his father climb the ladder with a saber in hand, the killing intent palpable. Cold sweat poured down his face.
"Zhang Feng, stop!"
At the critical moment, his mother, Madam Li, rushed forward like a protective hen, clinging to Zhang Feng's leg. "A tiger does not eat its cubs! If you want to kill my son, you'll have to go through me first!"
"Move! This beast has lost his mind! If he enters the Golden Palace and spews nonsense, it's a crime of deceiving the Emperor! The whole clan will be executed!"
Taking advantage of the distraction, Zhang Tian scrambled down the wall.
He took a deep breath, instantly masked his face with a solemn expression, smoothed his robes, and bowed deeply to Zhang Feng.
"Your son, Zhang Tian, greets Father."
Zhang Feng froze on the ladder. The speed of this "personality flip" made his head spin.
"You... what tricks are you playing now?"
Zhang Tian raised his head, his eyes clear and profound, devoid of his usual flightiness. "Father, I did not tear the notice out of impulse. I did it to restore the century of glory to our Zhang family."
"Restore glory?" Zhang Feng sneered, slamming the saber into the ground. "When you were seventeen, you wrote that poem about reeds—'One piece, two pieces, three or four pieces'—making us the laughingstock of Chang'an. At eighteen, you wrote 'From afar it's a big rock, up close the rock is big,' becoming the shame of the literary world. What will you use to restore glory? Your nonsense?"
Zhang Tian remained unfazed, though he cursed the original owner's lack of talent.
"What's done is done. Even if you beat me to death, it won't help. The news has likely reached the palace. If you stop me, it will be seen as doubting the Empress's sincerity. That, too, is a capital crime."
Zhang Feng shuddered. This brat actually saw the lethal trap they were in?
"So, I must go. But I will not go as a 'scholar.' I will go as a Poisonous Strategist."
"Poisonous Strategist?" Zhang Feng frowned. "What is that?"
Zhang Tian stood with his hands behind his back, radiating the cold, calculated aura of a veteran corporate survivor.
"There are three types of strategists: those who scheme for themselves, those who scheme for others, and those who scheme for the world. One who utilizes the trends of the world but employs sinister, ruthless tactics to achieve his goals—that is a 'Poisonous Strategist.'"
"The world seems united, but undercurrents are surging. There are traitors within and wolves without. Conventional morality cannot save Great Wu. We must use poison to fight poison to establish an eternal peace!"
His words were powerful, leaving Zhang Feng stunned. Was this really his brothel-crawling son?
Just as the atmosphere reached a stalemate, a cold, melodious voice came from the gate.
"Uncle Zhang, Qinghe has come uninvited. I hope I am not a bother."
Zhang Tian turned his head.
Standing at the gate was a woman in a dark green dress. Her skin was as white as snow and her features were exquisite, but her eyes were filled with deep coldness and disgust.
Song Qinghe. The daughter of the Minister of Rites, the capital's top prodigy, and Zhang Tian's fiancée.
She gave a slight bow and spoke the words that turned the courtyard into a graveyard of silence:
"Uncle Zhang, I heard Brother Zhang Tian tore down the Imperial Decree. Qinghe is here today... to break our engagement."