At this moment, Liu Guangzheng's heart was pounding wildly.
By his original estimate, Zhao Cheng would not leave the Southern Wasteland for at least another two years.
As an emperor who ruled the realm, he saw the situation in the Southern Wasteland with utmost clarity. It looked like blooming flowers and boiling oil, splendid beyond measure, but inside it was hollow. The time had simply been too short. All the propaganda and slogans might have shaken the heavens with their noise, but in truth, they had only skimmed the surface.
For things to truly settle and take root, several more years were needed. Only then could the people's hearts become genuinely secure, rather than chaos breaking out within the Southern Wasteland the moment the army departed.
After all, though the Southern Wasteland appeared orderly, there remained a group of survivors who believed in the rules of the old era. They were still alive.
Just like Qin in the real world: it had seemingly unified the realm and wiped out the nobles of the Six States, yet in reality, those people had merely hidden themselves deeply away.
Had the First Emperor not died, had he lived another ten or twenty years while the imperial authority passed smoothly into new hands, Qin naturally would not have run into trouble.
But reality had no ifs. The First Emperor died too suddenly, while most of Qin's armies were stationed at the borders, leaving its interior hollow. That was what gave the nobles of the Six States their chance.
The present Southern Wasteland was actually in much the same situation. No matter how ruthlessly Zhao Cheng had killed, he could never wipe them out completely.
As long as Zhao Cheng and his army remained in the Southern Wasteland, it was one thing. Once they were