Joy of Life: Me, the Second Prince? Summon Yuan Tiangang!

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The night was as dark as ink, so thick it was impossible to see through.

Fan Xian was like a frightened raccoon dog, wandering through the intricate alleys of Kyoto.

Although his breathing was rapid, his steps were perfectly steady, each step precisely placed in the shadows.

The majestic outline of the palace gradually receded behind him, like a giant beast lurking in the darkness. Although it did not open its blood-red maw for the time being, the suffocating sense of oppression still followed him like a shadow.

Only after confirming that there were no followers behind him did Fan Xian stop in front of an inconspicuous house.

This is his lodging in Kyoto; apart from Uncle Wuzhu, no one knows about it.

Pushing open the creaking wooden door, the courtyard was empty except for a withered old locust tree, its branches flailing wildly in the night wind.

"I'm back."

A monotone voice came from the shadows beneath the tree.

Fan Xian's tense nerves relaxed instantly. He exhaled a long breath and slumped onto the stone steps as if his bones had been removed.

"Uncle, we almost didn't make it back." Fan Xian smiled bitterly, took out the heavy black key from his pocket, and waved it in the dim moonlight. "But it was worth the risk."

Wu Zhu remained covered by the black cloth, his figure as straight as a spear. He didn't speak, but merely tilted his head slightly, seemingly "looking" at the key. Although Fan Xian couldn't see his eyes, he could sense that a very subtle ripple seemed to have appeared in Uncle Wu Zhu's unchanging emotions.

"Where's the box?" Fan Xian asked.

Wu Zhu turned and went into the house. A moment later, he came out carrying the black box that had troubled Fan Xian for so long.

Fan Xian took a deep breath and placed the black box on the stone table.

The moonlight shone on the black box, giving it a faint, cold glow.

Fan Xian's hands trembled slightly. He had no idea what he was about to face.

Is it wealth that rivals that of a nation?

Is it an unparalleled martial arts manual?

Or is it about a shocking secret about his own origins?

He slowly inserted the oddly shaped black key into the lock.

"Click".

A crisp whirring sound rang out in the quiet night.

The perfectly sealed black box suddenly opened a crack.

Fan Xian's heart pounded violently, as if it would burst out of his chest. He glanced at Wu Zhu, who nodded slightly.

Fan Xian stretched out his hands and slowly lifted the lid of the black box.

There was no dazzling golden light, nor auspicious clouds.

By the light of the cold moonlight, Fan Xian could see what was lying in the box.

In that instant, time seemed to stand still.

Fan Xian's pupils contracted sharply, and his mouth opened wide enough to fit an egg.

He felt as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning from the heavens, his head tingling from his scalp to his heels.

What lay in the box was neither gold nor silver, nor any secret manual.

Instead, they were three disassembled parts, gleaming with a cold metallic sheen.

The long barrel, the heavy gun body, the incredibly precise scope, and the iconic muzzle brake...

As someone with modern memories, how could Fan Xian not recognize what this was!

"Holy crap..."

Fan Xian squeezed out the two words from deep in his throat, his voice dry and trembling, filled with an unbelievable sense of absurdity.

This is a gun.

And it's not an ordinary gun.

That's a Barrett! An M82A1! A heavy sniper rifle!

In this era of cold weapons, where horseback riding and archery were common and internal energy flowed freely, and in this feudal dynasty where imperial power was supreme and masters were revered, a heavy sniper rifle representing the pinnacle of modern industrial violent aesthetics actually appeared!

Fan Xian's hands trembled as he stroked the cold barrel of the gun. The familiar touch and its heavy weight gave him a dizzying, surreal feeling, as if time and space were being disoriented.

"This...how is this possible..." Fan Xian muttered to himself, his eyes filled with shock and confusion.

He always thought that his mother, Ye Qingmei, was just a brilliant time traveler who might have brought some soap-making techniques, glass-making techniques, and white sugar-making techniques, or perhaps left behind some advanced ideas.

But to his utter surprise, she actually brought this thing with her!

This is not just a weapon; it's a devastating blow! It's a complete trampling of the military system of this era!

Grandmaster?

Can a Grandmaster's protective inner energy withstand a large-caliber anti-materiel sniper rifle?

One shot, and both men and horses were shattered!

Fan Xian's mind was in chaos. He suddenly felt a deep sense of awe, even a hint of fear, towards the mother he had never met.

Who is she?

How did she bring this thing over?

What role does she play in this world?

"What is this?" Wu Zhu's voice remained calm, but he seemed to have sensed the extraordinary nature of this object.

"This is... the truth." Fan Xian swallowed, looking at the parts in the box with a complicated expression. "This is the truth that can make even a Grandmaster become a singer and dancer."

At the bottom of the box, there was also a letter and several magazines.

Fan Xian didn't read the letter first; his attention was completely drawn to this powerful weapon. He skillfully picked up the parts, and although it was his first time handling them, his memories allowed him to instinctively know how to assemble them.

Click!Click!

The sound of metal clashing echoed in the courtyard, crisp, melodious, and full of rhythm.

Before long, a black behemoth, more than a meter long, appeared on the stone table.

It is ferocious, domineering, and exudes a chilling aura of slaughter.

Fan Xian picked up the Barrett rifle and looked at the distant night sky through the scope. Even without bullets, he could still feel the sense of control over life and death. .

"Mom...you're really awesome." Fan Xian put down the gun, shook his head with a wry smile.

However, just as Fan Xian was immersed in shock and confusion, Wu Zhu suddenly turned his head and faced the direction of the courtyard gate.

"Someone's coming."

Wu Zhu's voice was soft, but it was like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguishing the fire in Fan Xian's heart.

"Who?" Fan Xian asked warily, his hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at his waist—the Barrett was fierce, but now it was unloaded, just a fire poker.

"Very strong." Wu Zhu's answer was concise, and he had already slightly raised the iron shovel in his hand.

……

The Second Prince's Mansion.

Li Chengze had already changed out of his casual clothes.

At this moment, he was dressed in a tight-fitting black night suit, and his face was covered by a bronze mask with a half-smile. His long hair, which was usually casually draped over his shoulders, was now tied up high, making him look capable and sharp.

He stood in front of the bronze mirror, looking at the unfamiliar version of himself, a playful smile curving his lips.

"Your Highness, are you really going in person?"

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