The Legendary Investigator Zhu Yuanzhang

The fourth year of Zhizheng, autumn, Imperial Awakening Temple.

Late at night, silence reigned.

Zhu Yuanzhang opened his eyes to find himself lying in a structure resembling a horse stable, resting on a bed of insulating hay.

So... I've transmigrated.

Outside the stable, lights flickering like ghost fires darted past, accompanied by the crisp sound of a gong; it was the warrior monks of Imperial Awakening Temple on their night patrol.

Zhu Yuanzhang sat up.

He touched his chest, felt a familiar texture, and let out a long sigh of relief.

Thank goodness... it's still here.

Zhu Yuanzhang pulled the object from his robes.

It was a piece of steamed bun, about a third of the original size, covered in a light dusting of dirt.

His body, catching the faint fragrance of refined grain, began to rumble uncontrollably.

Zhu Yuanzhang felt his mouth watering involuntarily.

According to his memories, just like in history, he had entered the temple in the third year of Zhizheng (1343) due to the locust plague that had swept across the entire Henan-Jiangbei Province.

Zhu Yuanzhang's parents, brothers, and sisters had all starved to death.

Of their family of over ten people, only his sister-in-law Li Zhen and his nephew Wen Zhong had survived alongside him.

It was truly a miserable start.

Talk about a nightmare difficulty setting (leans back tactically).

Outside the window, the moonlight was bright; it was a full moon, round like a giant white flour cake.

Zhu Yuanzhang stared at the small piece of white bun in his hand, and after a fierce internal struggle fueled by the stubborn will of a modern man, he made his decision.

"Since things have come to this, I'll eat first."

After all, food is the heaven of the people.

Zhu Yuanzhang swallowed the half-bun—given to the sixteen-year-old him by a pitying pilgrim earlier that day—almost in a single gulp.

"So delicious!"

Never had Zhu Yuanzhang, with his modern soul, felt that the "carb bombs" he had shunned while fitness training in his past life could taste this good.

Fragrant! Absolutely delicious!

As for the future... if he didn't even have a present, what was there to talk about regarding the future?

However...

As the bun settled in his stomach, the next second, Zhu Yuanzhang's vision went black, and then the world returned to normal.

But a line of small text appeared before him.

[Energy source detected, TRPG Simulator initializing]

[Current era: Late Yuan Dynasty, a time of chaos]

[Consume Luck Points to enter a secret history and further uncover the truth of the past]

[Current Luck Points: 1]

Zhu Yuanzhang's eyes widened.

Wasn't this the Cthulhu-themed TRPG Simulator set against the backdrop of Eastern history that he had made for his own amusement in his past life?

But before he could upload it to that pink app to benefit the masses, he had been struck and killed by a speeding truck on his way back to the dorms.

If this was really it... then...

Zhu Yuanzhang thought of something, and his eyes flashed.

[Secret history detected, begin TRPG session?]

[As the investigator is entering a secret history for the first time, this session cannot be simulated]

"Yes."

Even though Zhu Yuanzhang had a premonition that this simulator might lead him into danger.

But for someone who could potentially starve to death tomorrow...

Only with danger came opportunity.

Only then could he survive in this terrifying, man-eating, late Yuan Dynasty chaos.

Zhu Yuanzhang did not believe that he, as a transmigrator, would necessarily possess the same great destiny as the Ming Taizu of history.

"Start TRPG."

In an instant, the world spun.

Zhu Yuanzhang's vision went black.

When he woke up again, he found himself unable to move, seemingly peering at the palace before him from a bird's-eye perspective.

Three large characters popped up before his eyes.

[Great Celebration Hall]

Beneath the blue-green glazed tiles stood a middle-aged man dressed in yellow robes.

Inside the grand hall, there were no civil or military officials; only one person knelt before the pale-faced man in yellow.

This man had a slender build, wore red official robes, and possessed an unremarkable appearance with a thin, drooping mustache.

Only his eyes were long and narrow, faintly revealing a greenish glint.

"The Mongol troops are attacking Xiangfan again... besieging Ezhou, slaughtering Huainan... Our Great Song has a million soldiers, yet not a single one can stop them."

Zhu Yuanzhang was astonished to discover that the face of the man in yellow robes was blurred within this [cutscene].

Moreover, no matter from which angle he looked, this figure—suspected to be the emperor—always faced his line of sight directly.

What the hell kind of logic is this?

Could the system have a bug?

"Does the Privy Councilor have any sound strategy to stop them and preserve the million lives of our Great Song?"

The middle-aged man in yellow robes asked sincerely.

"The current situation of the world dictates that if we protect the fences, we can protect the inner sanctum; if we hold the three frontiers, we can secure the interior... The plan for today, to block the Yuan troops, is only to train the Huainan armies heavily and dispatch a capable general to garrison Xiangfan."

The official in red robes cupped his hands, bowed deeply to the man in yellow, his voice resonant and low.

"Minister Jia, who do you think can serve as this general?"

The middle-aged man in yellow turned around, his back to the official, and said wearily.

"In the entire imperial court! Only Lü Wende can!"

The official surnamed Jia still kept his head pressed to the floor, but his voice was like a booming bell as he spoke loudly.

"Granted!"

Following this decree, Zhu Yuanzhang seemed to see a green light peel away from the body of the man in yellow robes.

His back grew increasingly blurred and unstable.

It was just like the very last leaf hanging on a tree in late autumn.

As the north wind—the final straw that broke the camel's back—blew in.

It crashed down!

In a trance, Zhu Yuanzhang seemed to see the imperial palace before him transform into a forest that was withering day by day.

Suddenly, a giant hand reached out from north of the river, holding golden shears, and with a tight grip, it severed the entire forest at the waist!

At the same time, a voiceover rang out beside Zhu Yuanzhang's ears.

[In the first year of Kaiqing, Emperor Lizong of Song accepted the suggestion of Jia Sidao, appointing Lü Wende as Grand Marshal, concurrently serving as Commissioner of Baokang Army, Pacification Commissioner of Jinghu, Pacification Commissioner of Sichuan, Administrator of Ezhou, and Commander-in-Chief of Huguang, to garrison Xiangfan and resist the Mongol army.]

[Ten years later, Lü Wende died in battle. Jia Sidao led 130,000 elite troops from Huainan to Dingjia Islet to intercept the Yuan army, suffered a crushing defeat, and was killed by Zheng Huchen, the Magistrate of Kuaiji County.]

[The Mandate of the Zhao Song has been lost.]

[The skull of Emperor Lizong of Song was stolen by the Tibetan monk Yang Lianzhen, inlaid with gold, silver, and beautiful jade, and crafted into a bone ritual implement.]

[It was later collected by the Great Yuan imperial family.]

The cutscene ended.

Zhu Yuanzhang saw countless black and white gases flying out from the Northern Song imperial city, which had already been reduced to ruins, passing through piles of corpses left behind after being slaughtered by Mongol soldiers.

They converged in the sky into 16 blood-dripping characters.

[Horses trample the northern gates, dogs howl in the west.]

[The count of eighty-nine is exhausted, the sun and moon lose their light.]

Darkness descended.

When Zhu Yuanzhang opened his eyes again, he was standing outside the strange yet familiar Imperial Awakening Temple.

This time, his clothes were no longer the tattered rags of a servant, but the light gray monk's robe of an official disciple of the Imperial Awakening Temple.

"Little monk."

A harsh voice, like rats gnawing on bones, sounded behind Zhu Yuanzhang.

Zhu Yuanzhang turned his head and saw a Western Region barbarian monk, gaunt as a dried corpse and wearing red monk's robes, walking toward him while holding a chicken-blood red bracelet.

"This humble monk is Yang Lian, here by the order of the Great Master Guangfa of Wuxiang Zunneng Temple to pay a formal visit to the mountain."

Looking at the monk who exuded a scent of rot from his entire body.

Zhu Yuanzhang took a step back, almost imperceptibly.

The next second, a streak of blood-red light flew over, and his vision went black.

A blood-colored curtain appeared before him, indicating the mission had failed.

[You have died.]