A knife-edged cold seeped into him, climbing his spine and piercing straight to the crown of his head.

Liang Jing's eyes snapped open. He didn't see the messy dorm room from his all-night gaming session or the sterile white ceiling of a hospital. Instead, his vision swam in a blurred, jostling... darkness?

His eyes struggled to focus. By the faint slivers of light filtering through cracks, he barely made out his surroundings—a cramped space reeking of mildew and old wood. The relentless bump and sway beneath him, the monotonous clatter of wheels on stone.

A... carriage?

How was he inside a carriage? And this antique, rickety thing was a far cry from his sleek supercar.

Before he could process it, a stabbing pain exploded at his temples. A torrent of chaotic, fragmented memories flooded his mind, ruthless and overwhelming.

The Great Xia Empire.

Grand Chancellor of the Imperial Secretariat. Commander of the Eastern Depot.

The Shadow Hand of the Empire, Liang Jing.

A man who held the court in his grasp, whose networks sprawled everywhere, trusted by the Emperor... and feared like a venomous serpent by all officials.

Also, renowned as the most handsome man in the capital, if not the entire realm—a reputation utterly eclipsed by the terror inspired by his absolute power and ruthless methods.

A dying empire, its fortune crumbling, ravaged by natural disasters and human strife, suffering three years of brutal drought, its people in despair... and he was at the pinnacle of power in this sinking ship. The chief... eunuch?!

"Bloody hell!" Liang Jing nearly choked. He was a proper, modern-day scion of a wealthy family, just grinding for a world championship spot in esports! How did he end up as... this? And missing the vital parts?!

As internal chaos reigned, threatening to send him back to the void, a voice—cold, utterly devoid of emotion—echoed directly within his consciousness:

[Host's intense will to survive and inherent inclination for order detected. Binding conditions met.]

[The Path of the Righteous System, activating...]

[Activation successful!]

[Host: Liang Jing]

[Identity: Grand Chancellor of the Imperial Secretariat, Commander of the Eastern Depot, Great Xia Empire]

[Current Righteous Points: 0] *[Note: Obtainable by opposing or eliminating key antagonists of fate. Righteous Points can enhance host's cultivation, techniques, skills, and are directly converted into the Great Xia's Imperial Mandate.]_

[Current Available Funds: None] *[Note: Host's reasonable expenditures to preserve the Great Xia Imperial Mandate will be rewarded with random multiplier refunds. Refunded funds are strictly for state affairs, public welfare, and host's own faction development.]_

[Current Great Xia Imperial Mandate: 17 / 10000] *[CRITICAL. On the verge of collapse!]_

[Ultimate Goal: Consolidate the Imperial Mandate, Reforge the World, Ascend as a Celestial Emperor!]

Liang Jing: "..."

He stared at the semi-transparent screen in his mind, especially at the glaring "17" Mandate points and the words "Celestial Emperor." He remained silent for three full breaths.

Then, an indescribable sense of absurdity, mixed with a strange thrill sparked by the sheer audacity of the system's promise, began to dilute the frustration of his... unfortunate new physical state.

Spend gold? Get rewards? Crush villains? Gain power? And become a Celestial Emperor?

This script... maybe it wasn't so bad?

Who cared about being a Shadow Hand or a eunuch? Survival was what mattered. And it seemed he could not only survive but thrive, with immense power and wealth.

"Your Excellency, we have arrived." A voice, thin and reedy, laced with cautious deference, came from outside the carriage.

Liang Jing took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his turbulent emotions. Drawing on the merged memory fragments, he adjusted his expression and posture. The original owner's cold, imperious demeanor—forged by absolute power and a contempt for all beneath him—slowly settled over him like a cloak.

He pushed the carriage curtain aside. The glaring sunlight made him narrow his eyes.

Before him stood the imposing, solemn main gate to the palace. Steps of white marble led upward towards the Golden Hall, the symbolic heart of Great Xia's power. Guards in gleaming armor stood rigid on both sides, a forest of spears and blades, yet they instinctively bowed their heads, their very breath hitching, at the sight of his distinctive black carriage.

Leaning lightly on the arm of a young eunuch, Liang Jing stepped down. His official black robes, embroidered with intricate serpentine patterns, shimmered with a cold light under the sun. His posture was ramrod straight, his face as flawless as jade. His long, phoenix-like eyes swept lazily across the scene, devoid of any discernible emotion, yet the gaze sent a chill down the spine of anyone it touched. The beauty of his features was undeniable, but it was a beauty tempered by terrifying authority and frost.

Walking on polished gold-flecked bricks, he passed through successive gates. Every servant, every guard along the way knelt, pressing their foreheads to the ground, not daring to make a sound.

Inside the Golden Hall, the atmosphere was so thick with tension one could almost taste it.

On the Dragon Throne, the young Emperor of Great Xia, Xia Lin Yuan, looked pale and hollow-eyed, forcing himself to appear alert but unable to hide the exhaustion and frailty etched on his face. Below, civil and military officials stood in divided rows, the divide between them clear.

The moment Liang Jing's figure appeared at the grand entrance, the faint murmurs in the hall died instantly.

Dozens of pairs of eyes—filled with hatred, fear, wariness, or veiled schadenfreude—snapped to him simultaneously.

He paid them no mind, his steps measured and calm as he walked directly through the path the officials unconsciously cleared for him. Stopping at the foot of the imperial dais, he gave a slight, perfunctory bow.

"Your servant, Liang Jing, pays his respects to Your Majesty."