"I'm dead, am I?" Ying Zheng seemed to be talking to himself. A flash of light fell from his little face and hit Chen Xuan's body. "Chen Xuan, I'm dead, am I?"

Chen Xuan felt that he was just a waste now, a waste who could only watch others being killed and could do nothing.

Who are you? Since you've sent me here, let me do something! Don't let this child get hurt again! He's been slandered for over two thousand years. Do you still want him to die here?

Chen Xuan's heart was broken into pieces. He roared and scolded in his heart, but he couldn't show it on his face.

Chen Xuan floated out of Ying Zheng's arms, carefully landed on Ying Zheng's messy hair, and slowly stroked Ying Zheng's head with his right front paw:

"Zheng, do you see that sword? Pick it up and kill them. You are the monarch, and even if you die, you must die the way a monarch dies. But you can't die, after all, I have you, Zheng, don't you believe in me?"

Ying Zheng's originally handsome face was scratched by blood and tears. He sniffed, looked at the people fighting in the distance, and limped to pick up the sword.

"I am the prince of the Great Qin! Don't underestimate me!"

"roar--!!!"

Meng Que swore that it was a scene he would never forget, not even if he died:

A young king, a peerless black dragon, a rusty bronze sword, and the afterglow of the setting sun were harvesting dozens of Zhao rebels who were staying where they were. Although, he was also staying where he was.

Note:

The lower classes and slaves in the pre-Qin period basically did not have surnames, only names, which were basically related to what they were doing.

The correct way to use Dragon's Might, its false activation rate, and my laziness in writing fight scenes *?(???)?*