It's cold.

Hou Yuntao felt cold in his sleep, as if he was in a cold cellar.

Hou Yuntao, whose hands and feet were cold, struggled to move his body and move his hands and feet, but he couldn't move.

Alas, overslept again?

There was a noisy sound in his ears, accompanied by a faint cry, Hou Yuntao secretly scolded an unscrupulous real estate developer in his heart, and the sound insulation of the house was so poor. The old man had saved his life to buy me a house, and on the first day he moved in, it was like sleeping in the city.

Suddenly, a burning sensation came from the soles of his feet, and Hou Yuntao's body instinctively startled, his eyes opened, and he jumped up. It turned out to be a green bamboo forest, not bad, the developer is not useless, at least this greening is good.

Oh, that's not right! I hadn't been there when I came yesterday, and when I looked around, I was so scared that I didn't feel sleepy.

A middle-aged man, dressed in a green coat with a tattered piece of armor tied to his chest, looked funny. But seeing the clotted black blood clots on it, Hou Yuntao couldn't laugh, this was a ruthless man covered in blood, in fact, just a day ago, he killed more than a dozen people.

The murderer in Hou Yuntao's eyes screamed strangely, threw himself at his feet, and cried. This cry was full of too many emotions, heartbreaking, Hou Yuntao was in such a strange place, and there was a trace of warmth in his heart.

"Big young master! God is pitiful, I left a blood for the master, the Hou family shouldn't be extinct! Thinking of the old man he had always respected, lying here with his head in a different place, Yang Shu was even more sad, and he could no longer suppress the pain in his heart.

The boy doesn't flick when he has tears, but he hasn't reached the sad place.

"Uncle Yang..."

This voice blurted out, Hou Yuntao himself was startled, this "Uncle Yang" was like a key that opened a door in his mind. Countless familiar and unfamiliar memories poured out, blending with his original memories. Twenty years of high-rise buildings and technological explosions; Twenty years of four books and five classics, hard reading.

I am Hou Yuntao, and I am also Hou Xuanyan, the eldest son of Hou Yuzeng, the head of the Nanjing Military Department of the Ming Dynasty.

It's crossed...

Hou Yuntao quickly understood, it was not that he was quick in thinking and not panicked in chaos, but that he had read too many novels.

The first year of Hongguang in the Ming Dynasty? Well, the era name is good, which emperor is it?

Suddenly, a terrible thought poured into my heart, this can't be the Hongguang of Zhu Yousong, the little blessing king, right? Hou Yuntao instinctively reached out and touched his head, fortunately, the hair was still there, he didn't want to keep a pigtail full of ridiculous money rat tails. Thinking of this, Hou Xuanyan's memories came out in vain, and half of his life was not as good as the ups and downs of the past few days.

The more Hou Yuntao recalled, the more frightened he became, and in the end his face turned pale and trembled.

Now it is the end of the Ming Dynasty, Jinling fell, Emperor Hongguang was captured, and the Qing soldiers poured into Jiangnan like raging beasts. The Manchu Qing Dynasty issued an order to shave their hair to break the backbone of the Han people, and Daddy Houtong once raised the banner to resist the Qing Dynasty, gathered 100,000 village soldiers in Jiading, and died in a battle. After the city was broken, Daddy took his two brothers and committed suicide by throwing himself into the river. Hou Xuanyan's memory is over here.

As a senior fan, Hou Yuntao knows a lot about this history, which is clearly the first slaughter of the three massacres in Jiading.

That is, there are two more bloody massacres, waiting for this once-rich Jiangnan town... Hou Yuntao's eyes suddenly darkened, and he gasped.

Wait a minute! Hou Xuanyan in history is dead, that is, history can be changed. Thinking of this, Hou Xuanyan's heart surged, I might be able to... Change this darkest part of history.

"That's right!" Hou Xuanyan cheered up, as a person who was familiar with the history of the Ming Dynasty, since he had come here, how could he do nothing. Taking advantage of this excitement, Hou Yuntao picked up the loyal servant Yang Shu on the ground and said with relief: "Uncle Yang doesn't have to be like this, I promise you that you will definitely take revenge." ”

Who knew that after Yang Shu heard this, he was shocked and shouted, "No, absolutely not." The Qing army is strong, and the eldest young master has finally come back from the dead, so we should flee quickly. ”

The other survivors in the bamboo forest also echoed it, and Hou Yuntao looked at these people carefully, it didn't matter if he didn't look at them, he looked at his heart like a knife.

The bamboo forest was densely packed with slaughter survivors, their clothes were ragged and scarred, and a few of them were in front of them, and the flesh turned out of their bodies was still dripping blood. Most of these people were defeated village soldiers, who salvaged the bodies of the Hou family's father and son, and gathered here in fear.

They looked at themselves with sadness in their eyes. Yes, the eldest son of the Hou family came back from the dead, but the relatives of the vast majority of them never came back.

Hou Xuanyan suddenly understood his situation, and his optimistic thoughts disappeared without a trace. Like them, he is just a poor worm that survived a barbaric massacre of civilization. The general trend of the world is like a tsunami and landslide, what can a small insect do.

Suddenly, Hou Yuntao's face turned red and he became excited. He had read too much of the book, and he could guess the plot with his eyes closed.

Yes, I'm a traverser, how could I come empty-handed.

He closed his eyes and pondered, trying to feel the changes in his body, and shouted in his heart: Come out, my system! My Warehouse! My gold, my hands, my fingers!

It's a pity that all that replied to him was a gust of wind from the mountains and bamboo forests, and the wailing of his companions.

Made! Wearing naked?

Hou Yuntao's pupils contracted, and he scolded in his heart, if he wore it to the Tang Dynasty, he would wear it naked, Lao Tzu copied a few poems, engaged in small inventions, and still mixed up. But this is the end of the Ming Dynasty, it is the three slaughters of Jiading, and no one has to cross it well.

Looking at the cheeks of the old tears around him, he became a little hideous because of the pain. No one thought that this loyal servant, who grew up carrying his two brothers on his shoulders since he was a child, would be as brave as ever. In the street battle after the city was broken, he single-handedly slashed more than a dozen Qing soldiers, and only fled in despair after seeing the master's family throw himself into the river.

There are also two familiar bodies on the wooden pile, if you don't cross it, maybe it's three corpses, and the family is neat.

Hou Yuntao's eyes unconsciously flashed with tears. He inherited the memories of this body, and naturally he had his emotions, and who didn't have feelings accumulated through memory.

Hou Yuntao gritted his teeth and said: "It's impossible to escape, where can you escape?" ”

After carefully recalling the historical knowledge of later generations, Hou Yuntao remembered that the Qing army's defense at this time was very lax, and it was a good time for a counterattack.

Even if he escapes, Lao Tzu will first bite off a piece of meat from Li Chengdong, a dog thief.