My hotel is full of emperors throughout history.

The next day, in Lintong.

Deputy Director Zhang stood in front of the pit, without moving.

He was followed by seven or eight people—Old Qian, Old Zhou, and several experts who had rushed over from Beijing overnight.

Everyone remained silent.

Two terracotta figures stand side by side. The cleaning work is mostly complete, and they are now presented to the public almost intact.

The one on the left is holding an AK-47.

The figure on the right is holding a machine gun in his arms. After expert evaluation, its structure is very similar to the PKM general-purpose machine gun of the Northern Union.

Deputy Director Zhang stopped.

He just stood there, motionless.

People behind them walked in one after another and stopped one by one.

No one speaks.

No one moved.

a long time.

Mr. Qian slowly walked forward a few steps and stopped in front of the terracotta figurine holding the PKM.

He crouched down, put on white gloves, and gently touched the barrel of the machine gun.

Made of pottery. Cold. Integrated with the terracotta figurine.

His fingers trembled slightly.

"Old Qian..."

Someone nearby called to him quietly.

Mr. Qian did not answer.

He simply stared at the machine gun, at each tiny ceramic bullet on the ammunition belt, and at the intricate patterns on the bipod.

Then he stood up, turned around, and looked at the crowd.

His eyes reddened.

"I've studied Qin and Han history my whole life," he said, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible. "I can recite the Records of the Grand Historian backwards, I've studied the Qin bamboo slips for thirty years, and I've visited the Terracotta Army pits no less than two hundred times."

He paused, his gaze returning to the two terracotta figures.

"I thought I had seen everything."

"I thought I knew everything."

He suddenly smiled, a smile that was particularly complex.

"But I've never seen a Terracotta Warrior carrying an AK."

"I've never even seen a Terracotta Warrior carrying a PKM!"

No one speaks.

Deputy Director Zhang walked over to him and gently patted him on the shoulder.

"Old Qian, we're all in the same boat, but it's okay..."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the canvas curtain of the greenhouse was suddenly ripped open.

A young technician rushed in, his face ashen.

Deputy Director Zhang's heart skipped a beat.

"What's wrong?" Old Zhou asked first.

The technician swallowed hard and pointed towards the east side of the greenhouse.

"Over there... that excavation square to the east... we've dug... we've dug up something big..."

"Big? How big?"

Mr. Qian frowned.

The technician's expression became extremely complex, as if he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

"You...you'll see when you go take a look. We've only dug out a part...but that part..."

Without hesitation, Deputy Director Zhang turned and walked out.

A group of people quickly followed behind.

The crowd automatically parted to make way.

He walked to the edge of the excavation square and looked down—

Then, he stopped.

In that instant, he felt his breath stop.

Something is buried in the ground. Or rather, part of something is buried.

That's a pipe.

The end of the pipe is buried in the upper layer, so you can't see the whole thing, but the exposed part is long enough—at least two or three meters.

The surface of the pipe was covered with soil stains, but its unique shape, its slightly bulging smoking device, and the outline of its muzzle brake...

Why does this look so damn like a tank cannon barrel?

No?

Forget about the AK and PKM machine guns!

Could there be tanks too?

Your Qin Dynasty already had tanks? ???

Then why build the Great Wall?

Mr. Qian slowly walked to the edge of the excavation square, squatted down, and stretched out his hand.

His hand trembled in the air for a long time before finally not falling.

Then he stood up.

His legs buckled, and the people next to him quickly helped him up.

"Old Qian!"

Mr. Qian waved his hand, indicating that he was fine.

He steadied himself and glanced at the cannon barrel again.

Then he turned his head and looked at Deputy Director Zhang.

"Old Zhang."

"Um."

"Perhaps... this time we must overthrow everything from the Qin Dynasty and start anew!"

Old Zhang nodded.

"Quick! Get a brush! Get bamboo skewers! Get a shovel!"

He roared without turning his head.

"Quick! What are you all standing there for?! Dig! Dig!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the entire construction site came to life.

A group of veteran archaeologists are digging up a tank.

A tank from 2,200 years ago.

Although I don't know how two thousand vehicles from a hundred years ago were paired with the modern term "tank".

but……

"This weld...this armor's angle of inclination...damn, how is it so precise?"

"How could something so perfectly made have existed 2,200 years ago?"

"You know what, maybe the Qin Dynasty really did have some advanced technology?"

"Daqin Heavy Industry, right?"

"You know what, I searched online a few days ago and there really is a company called Daqin Heavy Industry. Do you think these two companies might be the same one?"

"What utter bullshit! You mean the Qin Heavy Industry has been around for over two thousand years?"

Time passed by, second by second.

The sun rose directly overhead from the east and then slowly began to set in the west.

No one stopped to eat or drink at the construction site.

Some people hurriedly took a couple of bites of bread and then knelt back into the exploration area. Others were so exhausted when they were replaced that their legs were so stiff that they were dragged out, sat down to catch their breath, and then struggled to go back.

Mr. Qian knelt beside the turret and carefully dug.

They knelt from morning until noon, and from noon until afternoon.

Several people around him tried to help him up to rest, but he pushed them away each time.

"Mr. Qian, your body can't take this..."

"Enough nonsense!" Old Qian glared. "I've spent my whole life digging graves, and now I've unearthed something that can overturn all previous history. You want me to rest?"

"Screw your rest!!! Get out of my way!"

The people around were stunned.

The usually gentle and refined Mr. Qian actually swore.

Around 4 PM, the turret was finally completely cleared out.

At 9 p.m., the front of the tank was revealed.

At 11 p.m., the cockpit hatch was revealed.

At one o'clock in the morning, one of the road wheels was exposed.

At three o'clock in the morning, the entire outline of the tank was finally revealed to everyone.

It lay there quietly in the soil, its cannon barrel pointing diagonally to the sky, its tracks slightly sunk into the earth.

Old Qian staggered to his feet.

His legs were numb from kneeling, and he could barely stand.

The people next to him helped him up, but he waved them off and walked step by step to the tank.

He reached out and touched the cold car body.

Then he laughed.

That smile contained weariness, satisfaction, reverence, and an indescribable complexity.

The night sky is dotted with stars.

He didn't know if, on some night two thousand two hundred years ago, the tank's cannon had also pointed to the sky, to those same stars.

But he knew one thing—

From this day forward, he will have to rewrite all the history he has ever learned in his life.

In the distance, Deputy Director Zhang stood at the edge of the exploration area, watching this scene unfold.

His phone rang.

It was a call from Beijing.

He glanced at it but didn't take it.

He just stared at the tank, at the cannon barrel pointing to the sky, and at the back of the seventy-something-year-old man stroking the vehicle.

Then he sighed softly.

"Old Zhou."

"Um?"

Do you think... we've ever unified the world before?

Old Zhou remained silent for a long time.

Then he gave a wry smile.

"I have no idea."

"But I believe... we were absolutely glorious! So glorious that... we surpassed all civilizations!!!"