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... Kingdom," she said. "I know your ties there are cut, burned, and buried. But this isn't about pride. It's not about history. It's about survival. If we're going to have any chance of stopping Sylvathar, we need all three kingdoms aligned."

Galen didn't flinch. Didn't scowl. Didn't scoff. But the smirk faded from his lips. His voice stayed calm—too calm, like he was commenting on the weather.

"And I respect that," he said, swirling what little wine remained in his glass. "But eve ...

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Most people don't choose reincarnation.

Reincarnation finds their way to them.

Perhaps they did something great in their life.

Or maybe truck-sama wasn't looking where it was going.

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A new life where everything changes for the better.

But...

Reincarnation isn't always the greatest thing.

Sometimes you just draw the short end of the stick.

Di Tou just happens to have drawn the shortest stick.

Pulled out of his life randomly.

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He just became the newly-crowned movie emperor when he died a tragic (actually, very stupid) death. On his way to cross the NaiHe bridge, he managed to evade Meng Po and not drink her soup. Thus keeping the memories of the life that he just had.

But he would never have imagined that he would be reincarnated hundreds of thousands of years later. In the Interstellar era! If it happened to other guys, they would definitely want to be a mecha warrior. Don’t most men dream of that at least once in their life? But sadly, that’s not for him.

There’s only one goal in his mind – to be the number one star in the Interstellar era.

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Jianghu was in turmoil, an era of great strife. The leader of Great Qin wielded the Mo Blade, leaving the world battered and bruised. The ageless figures of Jianghu crouched upon the mountains, and with a single turn, they cast the entire world below them. Strong men measured the earth with their feet, and heroes of Jianghu could cleave the heavens with one sword, yet in the blink of an eye, they were drunk in the embrace of beauties. The Taoist carried his sword, the Scholar drunk on wine. Wearing tattered clothes, a beggar grasped a rotten branch and dared to storm the ancestral hall of the Taoist Sect. On the willow-lined causeway, in the long pavilion, a man who had sat withered for thirty years turned and stepped out, holding a peach blossom, with a flick of his wrist, he shattered ten miles of red candles. The era of Great Qin was renamed the Great Yuan Era. The youth with the Wooden Sword left his mountain village behind.