Versão Mítica dos Três Reinos

“Young master, young master~” Chen Xi vaguely heard someone murmuring in his ear.

His head felt heavy as he struggled to open his eyes. *If only I hadn’t drunk so much...*

Three days had passed, and Chen Xi finally grasped the situation. It was the broad era of the Three Kingdoms, right after the Yellow Turban Rebellion had been quelled—a time of heroes rising one after another. This was the era he had once daydreamed about during his idle moments. After all, whether it was the white horse and silver spear of Zhao Zilong or the embodiment of wisdom in Zhuge Kongming, the fan base in later generations was immense. Given China’s vast population, it was inevitable.

He was currently a distant branch of the Chen family from Yingchuan, somewhat related but so minor that no one paid him much attention. At home, he had only a maid who took care of him and an old steward—typical of someone who could eat well alone while the rest of the family went hungry.

Watching the steward wield a sword so skillfully that the water couldn’t even splash off it, Chen Xi was at a loss for how to react. Were people of this era really so formidable? Could the historical accounts be accurate—that the qualities of ancient people utterly surpassed modern ones by leagues? Chen Xi was skeptical.

“Master Chen, how have you been feeling lately?” an elderly man dressed as a physician poked his head in with a smile.

“Much better now,” Chen Xi replied promptly, bowing slightly. To his knowledge, even a mild headache or slight fever in this era could be fatal. The fact that