Deposed? I couldn't be happier! I wouldn't even be a dog to the crown prince.

thump—

thump—

thump—

The dull clanging of bronze echoed from the Zhuque Gate tower.

It is not the electronically synthesized sound from the Tian Shu system.

This is the oldest physical bronze bell in the Tang Dynasty.

The bugle call for spring plowing sounds.

The heavy tolling of the bell pierced through the morning mist of Chang'an.

The news spread to every market town that had fallen into silence because of the immortality scam.

Chang'an West Market.

The large iron gate, which had been closed for five days and was covered in smash marks, was now closed.

Accompanied by a piercing screech of bearing friction, it slowly pulls inward.

Hundreds of refugee men, dressed in tattered hemp clothing and with faces blue from the cold, were crowded at the entrance.

They stood frozen in place, clutching the stone they had used to smash the door.

Behind the door.

Wang Bancheng, the owner of the largest mecha parts forging workshop in the Tang Dynasty.

He was being helped out by two servants.

His head was still wrapped with the blood from the previous night's collision.

His face was as white as paper, and his steps were unsteady, as if he were walking on cotton.

A few days ago, he sold 70% of his physical stores and squeezed himself into an expensive co-firing cabinet.

After being forcibly disconnected by Li Chengqian last night, he convulsed on the ground for half an hour like a dying dog.

The dream of immortality has been shattered.

That futile cyber withdrawal reaction drained his very essence and spirit.

But he's not dead yet.

He still has to live.

Wang Bancheng looked at the workers outside the door, their eyes sunken from the lack of pay.

Those real, dirty faces, smelling of sweat.

Instead of those cold, hard code symbols on a virtual dashboard.

A sudden, indescribable bitterness welled up in his cloudy old eyes.

"Give us the money."

Wang Bancheng's chapped lips moved slightly.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for the person in front to hear clearly.

"Move out the spare cash from the backyard storeroom."

"We will pay everyone double the wages owed for the past few days, along with the food subsidies for spring planting."

There was a moment of silence below.

Immediately afterwards, a deafening cheer erupted.

The refugees threw away the stones in their hands and formed a long queue.

The gleaming silver coins, packed heavily in cloth bags, were handed out to the workers' calloused hands.

This is the most primitive form of transaction, yet it carries the most reassuring weight.

"Light the fire! Open the furnace!"

Wang Bancheng roared in a hoarse voice.

Deep inside the workshop.

The giant blast furnace, which had been shut down for many days, began to rumble again.

The workers, shirtless, shoveled tons of anthracite coal into the furnace.

The roaring firelight once again illuminated the sky above the West Market.

The molten iron, glowing red-hot, flowed into the mold through the guide channel, bursting out dazzling sparks and scorching heat waves.

The heavy industry foundation of the Tang Dynasty was laid to rest on this blood-stained morning.

The beating started again.

Inside the accounting office.

Wang Bancheng sat in that well-worn armchair.

He didn't touch the advanced optical computer that was connected to the Tian Shu system.

Instead, he reached out and picked up the thick, dusty physical ledger on the table.

The pages of the ledger were somewhat yellowed.

When you touch it with your fingers, it has a rough texture.

He turned to a page.

The smell of ink wafted into my nostrils.

Beside him, the old accountant was rapidly turning the pages of a sandalwood abacus.

The crisp sound of the abacus beads clashing together.

It's not as efficient as electronic notification sounds, and it's even a bit noisy.

But upon hearing this voice, Wang Bancheng couldn't help but shed tears.

It landed on the yellowed ledger, spreading a blot of ink.

"To be alive..."

He wiped the corner of his eye with the back of his hand, which was covered in age spots.

"To live authentically."

In this dilapidated accounting room, you can smell the ink and hear the abacus clicking.

It's a million times better than being a fake god in that cold, impersonal numbers box.

Outside Chang'an City.

On the vast official fields.

The winter snow has melted away, and black soil has been rolled out of the ground.

It emitted a strong earthy smell.

Those migrants who were wandering the city just a few days ago because of unemployment.

Now they've all returned to the fields.

They were not wearing virtual reality headsets.

There are also no automated agricultural mechs.

The Great Snow Dragon Riders went out of the city last night to destroy the server racks, consuming too much of the underlying energy.

The Spring Ploughing Ceremony has returned to the most primitive form of physical labor.

The heavy iron plow pressed into the soil.

The men were barefoot, trudging through the cold, damp mud.

Mud squeezed between my toes, sticky and gooey.

Each strike of the hoe brings up a solid clod of earth.

Sweat streamed down their dark backs, evaporating into white vapor in the cold wind.

"rise--"

Several men shouted slogans as they pried open a huge rock blocking their path.

They were exhausted, panting and their backs ached.

But everyone had a smile on their face.

That's the sense of security that comes from being down-to-earth and earning food through hard work.

There is no worry about system failures, and no fear of code corruption.

you get what you sow.

This is the oldest ironclad law established by the land.

The Imperial Palace.

A side hall of the Taiji Hall.

A pot of tea was warming on a small red clay stove.

The aroma of tea wafts through the air.

Li Shimin changed into a clean, bright yellow casual robe.

Sitting on the daybed.

He was holding several memorials on pacifying the people that had just been handed over by the Ministry of Revenue and the Ministry of Works.

It was written clearly on the folded book.

The workshops in Xishi have fully resumed operations.

The foreign exchange deficit caused by the destruction of Changsheng server racks is being gradually filled by expedited production of high-end parts.

Spring plowing outside the city is also proceeding smoothly.

The displaced people were resettled.

That longevity storm nearly destroyed the entire privileged class of the Tang Dynasty and emptied the real economy.

It was like an absurd nightmare.

When I woke up, everything was gradually returning to normal.

The funeral of Changsun Wuji is being prepared, and the imperial edict posthumously conferring titles has been issued.

His old friend risked his life to scout the way, making him face reality.

The flesh and blood of the Tang Dynasty returned to the soil of reality.

But this seemingly perfect result.

But this made Li Shimin feel a bit choked up.

He threw the folding paper on the small table.

I picked up the teacup and took a sip.

The tea was a little too hot to drink.

He looked out the window at the rising smoke and bustle of Chang'an city.

His brows furrowed slightly.

Deep in his eyes, a lingering sense of confusion remained.

Li Chengqian used the brutal method of pulling the power switch to drag them back from the virtual abyss.

The shattered server racks scattered on the ground serve as a reminder that the physical body cannot be discarded.

That's right.

But Li Shimin was an emperor.

He spent his whole life weighing the pros and cons and exploring the underlying logic of things.

"Chengqian..."

Li Shimin put down his teacup, his fingers unconsciously stroking the lid.

"Tell me, that's inferior code created by the remnants of the Gongshu family; it's fake immortality."

"You shattered their scam."

He closed his eyes, his mind replaying the time at the Colosseum in Rome.

That towering, dark gold mountain, and that cyber Zeus draped in lightning.

"But."

Li Shimin suddenly opened his eyes.

The faint red glow of the stove was reflected in his pupils.

"Since human consciousness cannot exist independently of the physical body."

"If it becomes code, it's just an empty shell without a soul."

"Then why... that god who controls the highest authority of the Heavenly Pivot and tramples everyone underfoot."

"That is, you, Li Chengqian."

"Has it ever appeared in the reality of the Tang Dynasty using a physical body?"