Zhao Ding once traveled to Daqian and became the King of Yan guarding the border in Daqian.
He has no ambitions and does not want to dominate the world or be an emperor. He is afraid of dying too quickly. He just wants to be a free and easy emperor in his fief.
If you have nothing to do, take a walk with the dog, raise flowers, tease the maid, and pick up some volleys of crossbows and magical cannons to protect yourself.
While writing to the imperial court and the imperial court crying about poverty, he was building a fiefdom.
Ever since, eight years later.
Outside the Daqian border, towers rose from the ground, and divine machine cannons stood at the top of the city.
Thirty-meter-high concrete city walls and a super-long wartime thoroughfare with eight carriages lined up side by side.
There are countless dense networks running rampant underneath.
Seeing that the fiefdom was impregnable.
Zhao Ding finally stopped with satisfaction.
At this moment, the emperor came.
Emperor: Good fellow, I asked you to guard the border, but you built a war fortress for me? And you are crying about being poor, but what is going on with the money in the warehouse that is more than the national treasury?
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