“It’s very simple. You will live on in George Washington’s body, because you can repair bodily diseases and minor injuries on your own. You’ll probably live to the limit of human lifespan. Of course, if you get your head chopped off, you definitely won’t survive; if your limbs are severed, they won’t grow back; if you bleed out, you’ll die all the same. Also, if Edward Harris hadn’t saved you just now, you would have suffocated to death, then existed in a soul state until you dissipated. However, since you’ve already devoured George Washington’s soul, your soul will last longer—maybe you’ll drift around for decades.”

That voice answered.

Alright, Henry Clark understood why she acted first and reported later, instead of discussing it with him before pulling this stunt.

With such a desperate gamble, unless he’d been kicked in the head by a donkey, there’s no way he’d go along with her madness. The only way was to throw him in directly, success or failure, there was no turning back. If he didn’t want to be trapped here forever, he had to risk everything for a chance.

“Are you Edward Harris?”

He turned his head and asked viciously.

Chapter 002: Let It All Go

This person was indeed Edward Harris.

And the soul he had devoured was indeed George Washington.

On March 19, 1644, after the Dashun army broke through Beijing, he arrived in this time and space, then devoured the soul of George Washington after his hanging suicide, and borrowed the latter’s body. After reviving this body, he was saved from the noose by Edward Harris, who had been about to hang himself next. Now, he needed to build a giant pyramid over 140 meters high, made of more than two million massive stones, with a total weight exceeding seven million tons.

Oh, and he had a twenty-year time limit.

“Damn it!”

He howled at the sky in grief and indignation.

Of course, the pyramid could wait. For now, he needed to figure out how to get out of Beijing alive.

“Fight our way out!”

Henry Clark said viciously.

He had no other choice but to break out of Beijing as fast as possible. As for hiding and waiting for a chance to sneak out—forget it. He was wearing George Washington’s face; every single Shun soldier, even the turncoat fence-sitters, over a hundred thousand people, were watching him. Not to mention the surrendered Jinyiwei and officials—who among them didn’t recognize him? If he stayed in Beijing, he’d be dragged out within three days, and whether it was a white silk scarf, poisoned wine, or a barbecue, it would all depend on Li Zicheng’s mood.

So he had to get out of the city.

“Do you know who I am?”

Henry Clark looked at Edward Harris with a blank expression and said.

“Your Majesty, you should say ‘I’—you are the current emperor, the Son of Heaven of the Great Ming, the supreme ruler of the world. I have served you all my life, of course I know all this.”

Edward Harris said, prostrating himself on the ground.

“Get up!”

Henry Clark said with satisfaction.

Old Wang was the most sensible type. Everything he had was tied to George Washington, so as long as George Washington was alive, nothing else mattered.

“Your Majesty, you just said to fight our way out. Aren’t you going to see the Taizu Emperor?”

Edward Harris asked.

“I have already met him. The Taizu Emperor rebuked me for my unworthiness, for abandoning the world lightly, and ordered me to return, rally my forces, and fight the traitors to the end. Even if I shed my blood on the battlefield, I will not fail the ancestral temples and the state. Are you willing to fight your way out of Beijing with me?”

Henry Clark said.

“I swear to follow Your Majesty to the death!”

Edward Harris knelt down again and said.

“Good. Let’s check our weapons first.”

After saying this, Henry Clark looked around and couldn’t help but feel a bit gloomy again. His weapons consisted of a sword—probably George Washington’s personal sword—and a saber, which should be Edward Harris’s. There was even a high-tech item: a finely crafted ancient flintlock, which was obviously also Edward Harris’s. George Washington would never personally carry a musket and pull the trigger. These three items made up all his weapons. He would have to rely on them, plus Mr. Harris, who certainly didn’t have the skills of an Eastern heroine, to break out of Beijing, while his enemies numbered in the hundreds of thousands.

“Damn it!”

Henry Clark cried out in grief and indignation once again in his heart.

Damn it or not, it didn’t matter—he had no other choice. If he didn’t want to be trapped in this time and space forever, he had to risk everything for a chance. With this in mind, he picked up the sword and viciously hacked at an old locust tree as thick as a man’s waist. The miracle of slicing through it didn’t happen. Instead, there was a strange metallic snapping sound—the blade twisted and broke after sinking about five centimeters into the trunk, leaving only a broken hilt in his hand.

Beside him, Edward Harris gasped in shock.

“Damn!”

Henry Clark threw the sword to the ground in exasperation.

“Let’s go!”

He walked down Coal Hill with his hands behind his back, but stopped after a few steps.

Go?

Where to?

“You have two choices. First, head east to Tianjin, then turn south. The nearest force is under David Cooper, who is at Linqing. Then continue fleeing south to Nanjing and resist the Qing army as emperor. But this route is dangerous, because there’s no guarantee the Shun army hasn’t already blocked the southern roads. Second, head north to Shanhaiguan. At this time, William Scott is marching south to rescue Beijing. You could meet him on the way. The advantage is that the route is basically safe, but you’ll be trapped in Shanhaiguan afterward.”