His brother-in-law is none other than Henry Wright, the one who hung himself upside down on the city gate tower, shouting about serving the country with utmost loyalty and remonstrating with his lord through death.

　　His granduncles are those who evaluated Cao Cao as a capable minister in times of peace and a formidable hero in times of chaos—Samuel Grant and Edward Grant.

　　As for the person whose body he has possessed, this brother would later collude with that damned eunuch Huang Hao to hoodwink Brian Clark, the later lord of Shu Han, and become the treacherous minister Peter Brooks who controlled the court.

　　Although he knows that historically Brian Clark had a close relationship with him, the problem is that he has now possessed this body. Under such circumstances, will history still repeat itself?

　　The protagonist then goes through countless dangers and hardships, finally finding his own ambition and goal:

　　To unify the country, national harmony is naturally required.

　　With national harmony, and everyone filled with love, unification comes easily. The Three Kingdoms also need harmony, and even more, need love...

　　The world is nothing more than you, me, and him—harmony in the world depends on everyone!

　　The chariot of harmony will surely crush all obstacles!

　　One world, one dream—Harmonious Three Kingdoms.

Chapter One: It's All the Driver's Fault!

　　When he opened his eyes for the first time, he saw an ugly, tear-streaked face right in front of him, which startled him into shouting, "A ghost!..." Huh? Why does my voice sound a bit effeminate and childish? Could it be that after the car accident, besides treating all my injuries, someone gave me a free throat surgery?

　　"The young master is alive!" That face, which had just been crying, saw the young master—who had been lying on the bed with tightly shut eyes and lips, pale as a sheet—suddenly open his eyes. In a panic, he started howling at the top of his lungs on the bed. Instead of being frightened, he looked overjoyed, and with a voice a hundred times more booming than before, he roared. The stench from his throat almost made Peter Brooks, who had just regained consciousness after the car accident, faint again.

　　Before Peter Brooks could clutch his chest and collapse, a pair of strong hands appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. "Let me have a look..." An old man in ancient Han clothing, over fifty years old, came over. His head was covered with graying long hair, casually tied at the forehead with a piece of hemp cloth.

　　"Who are you people?" Peter Brooks struggled desperately in fright, shouting angrily. What kind of hospital is this, full of old and ugly faces? Which hospital is this? I want to file a complaint!

　　Strangely, as a top professional in a military hospital, used to military training and exercises, how did I suddenly become so weak that I can't even break free from the grip of this lecherous old man in his fifties?

　　The man with the bad breath grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "Young master, don't you recognize your old servant?" The uncle with the stinky breath had tears on his fleshy old face, and he also had long hair—yes, tied up on his head. Only now did Peter Brooks get a good look at his surroundings. Damn it, is this some kind of classical-style mental hospital?

　　About a dozen people stood around, all in ancient costumes, each with expressions twisted between joy and grief, staring at him intently. Two little maids also stood nearby, staring at him wide-eyed. They were quite pretty, but their expressions were so weird that their cherry lips almost reached the back of their heads.

　　"Old servant?" Peter Brooks, who had just been glad to have survived the car accident, was nearly driven mad with fear. I'm neither a top nor a bottom, and I'm definitely not into S&M—what's with all this servant talk? Especially seeing that mouthful of yellow teeth, Peter Brooks's stomach churned, and he almost threw up bile.

　　"Old medical worker, what's wrong with our young master? You must make him well, no matter what." The uncle with the yellow teeth and stinky breath suddenly grabbed the lecherous old man who was still holding Peter Brooks's wrist and started crying.

　　"Enough! All this noise—how can this old man treat your young master like this?" The lecherous old man suddenly straightened his skinny, monkey-like body with an air of authority, scaring everyone around into silence. At this moment, Peter Brooks noticed something strange about his body. Yes, he suddenly realized that his arms, once shiny, red, and hard with muscle from years of military training, had somehow turned into little white noodle-like limbs.

　　※※※

　　"Who am I?" Peter Brooks couldn't help but tremble, touching his face. It seemed that the usual signs of youth—those so-called pimples—were gone, and his skin was as delicate as a girl's. The hair on his back stood on end in fright, and he quickly reached under the covers to check. A touch—both tires and the main bearing were intact. Peter Brooks couldn't help but feel relieved. Damn, at least my little buddy of over twenty years is still there. With this, I won't be afraid to play another round of mahjong.

　　Having confirmed that all his parts were intact, Peter Brooks finally breathed a sigh of relief, but the answer from the uncle with bad breath left him at a loss whether to laugh or cry. "You are our young master, aren't you?"