Zhao Han asked again, "Do you have any difficulties now?"
"Difficulties? There's only one greatest difficulty, and it can't be solved." Jia Rong sighed.
"What is it? Aren't you Transmigrators? What difficulty could possibly stump you?" Zhao Han asked instinctively.
"Disease." Jia Rong sighed again.
"Disease? Uh, other Transmigrators rarely get sick. They never fall ill even once from beginning to end." Zhao Han sounded helpless.
She had guessed all sorts of difficulties—social productivity, entrenched ideas, human nature—but she had never expected it to be disease.
"Yes, that's precisely the hardest thing to deal with. I nearly passed out several times. Do you remember when I first got malaria? I almost died." Jia Rong spoke seriously.
Jia Lian added, "That's right. Disease really is a huge problem. Yuan Shao failed largely because he died of illness. He died ten years early. If he had lived to seventy-five, he might well have crushed Cao Cao."
Wenren Sheng listened from the side.
He wanted to say that his girlfriend's example was not precise enough.
Of course, the history of the Eastern Continent world was much thinner due to the Otherworldly Users.
Zheng Chenggong from his previous life was the real pity. He died of illness at thirty-nine.
He had taken the route of overseas trade, bringing inland refugees across the sea and developing offshore islands.
If he had lived to fifty-four, he might have destroyed the Manchu Qing.
Because at that time, Wu Sangui had rebelled. With Wu Sangui in the south and Zheng Chenggong in the east attacking simultaneously, the Manchu Qing might have been finished.
And overseas trade could have continued.
"Hey, Teacher, can you give them some cheats?" Zhao Han asked secretly.
"Why are you always asking for cheats? Without cheats, can't you play games anymore? Can't you do