Iron Dynasty Chapter 1: Your Highness, Your Highness
It seemed as if a hundred years had passed in his sleep. Dazed and confused, Xiao Ming awoke to a pounding headache. His eyes first landed on a canopy of white gauze above a chamber crafted from crimson lacquered timber.
“I’m… not dead?” Xiao Ming whispered. The vivid scene of the lab blast lingered sharply in his thoughts.
As he propped himself upright, the ornate purple silk coverlet slipped away. Clad in a plain white undergarment and simple trousers, reminiscent of attire from period dramas.
Odd. What’s going on here?
He shifted to rise from the bed, but glimpsing a pale, delicate hand made his pulse race. That hand wasn’t his.
Terror rushed over him while he lifted his palms to his face. A cold truth dawned—he had become someone else entirely.
“Your Highness, why are you rising?”
A tender, soothing voice echoed. A maiden in a flowing green gown stepped in from beyond the door, her demeanor full of respect and submission.
“Lu Luo?” The words emerged instinctively from his mouth. Suddenly, recollections surged into his head like a bursting volcano.
Now he comprehended his new persona.
His name remained Xiao Ming, yet in this realm, he served as the Seventh Prince of the Da Yu Empire.
The timeline of this world mirrored his original one until the era of the Three Kingdoms. Beyond that, events twisted into chaos, leaving him clueless about Da Yu’s parallel dynasty.
Forcing a comparison, it echoed the Ming Dynasty of the 17th century, blending tech and customs from the Tang and Song eras.
As for the wider world? Total mystery. This place sealed off all external knowledge.
He had crossed over.
Xiao Ming could only embrace this reality.
The upside? He held princely status complete with his personal domain.
The downside? His territory ranked as the most barren and isolated, absurdly distant from the imperial hub of Chang’an.
The gravest issue? His holdings neighbored the endless northern steppes, inhabited by savage tribes poised for sudden raids.
And that barely scratched the surface. The reigning Emperor, Xiao Wenxuan, grew frail with age, while the Crown Prince faltered weakly, ever on the brink of dethronement. The imperial seat hung in precarious balance.
Consequently, the princes clashed in open and hidden battles for dominance, plotting to wipe out competitors.
Though banished to a far-flung estate, Xiao Ming endured as a prince—inescapable from this savage destiny.
Exile to this barren waste stemmed from the Emperor’s disdain toward him.
At a tender thirteen, he’d been dispatched there, and over the ensuing five years, no imperial decree ever recalled him.
Contrastingly, the Sixth Prince, born merely a month his senior, lingered in Chang’an. Officials pressed the Emperor repeatedly to grant him lands, yet the ruler steadfastly denied them.
Beyond the Sixth, the Crown Prince along with the Second, Third, and Fourth Princes all stayed in the capital. Solely the Fifth Prince shared Xiao Ming’s fate with an assignment, though his prosperous Shu region dwarfed this forsaken expanse.
Upon reflection, Xiao Ming pinpointed the root of his harsh plight—his mother lacked any prestigious lineage.
Every other prince and princess boasted connections to the mighty Five Great Clans and Seven Aristocratic Families that gripped Da Yu’s power.
“Unfavored? Fine by me. At least I avoid the farce of feigning affection for the Emperor. Here in my domain, I can live freely as I please.”
So he convinced himself, yet existence in his territory proved anything but simple.
The soil lay infertile and bleak, with every vital asset gripped by entrenched local noble houses.
These dominant lineages governed akin to feudal lords, such that the populace pledged loyalty to the elites alone, ignoring their prince.
The former Xiao Ming had been naive and feeble, blind to the perils. The current Xiao Ming grasped it fully—these clans acted as loyal hounds in mutual gain, but ferocious beasts otherwise.
Having assessed his predicament, Xiao Ming let out a heavy sigh. He dwelled in a nightmare.
Yet abruptly, he recalled the trigger of his crossing—and a spark of optimism flared inside.
Right as the lab detonated, the test Science Crystal had slammed into him directly.
In his stupor, he’d sensed the gem embedded in his mind.
This Science Crystal functioned as an energy nucleus, hailed from an ancient lost society.
In the trial, scientists not only unearthed superior dark tech but also imprinted the entirety of humanity’s historical wisdom into the crystal.
The experiment’s aim was to seamlessly bind a person’s mind to the Science Crystal, forging a “Civilization Creator.”
Per secret dossiers, full synchronization would grant total command over the crystal’s vast tech archives.
Even more astonishing—the fused individual could impart wisdom to others via memories, enabling a swift leap in societal progress.
Thrill coursed through Xiao Ming as he attuned to the Science Crystal in his consciousness.
A colossal wave of insights avalanched upon him like an immense peak.
Spanning from antiquity to the present in tech, a vast repository of writings, designs for all manufactured goods, recipes for crafting materials—even revolutionary dark tech.
“Civilization Creator? What a windfall!”
Only instants before, despair had gripped him over his dismal territory.
Now, elation filled him.
A Civilization Creator meant one capable of erecting a society anew.
This power suited his plight ideally.
Though his realm suffered poverty, the Science Crystal allowed tech innovations to elevate output.
Armed with these, he could seize assets and strip authority from the noble houses.
Failing that, those elites would persist as enduring dangers.
With purpose solidified, Xiao Ming beamed foolishly.
“Your Highness? Your Highness?”
His goofy grin alarmed Lu Luo.
Over the last couple of days, the Prince had teetered on death’s edge—if he abruptly lost his sanity or perished, the whole household staff faced beheading.
Despite the Qi Prince’s lack of favor, royalty demanded such severe repercussions.
Tears brimmed in Lu Luo’s eyes as dread and grief consumed her.
“Father… Mother… Forgive me… I can’t honor you in my duties…” she sobbed, voice quivering.
Her weeping yanked Xiao Ming from his reverie.
He regarded his attendant maid—eighteen, with elegant and graceful looks.
From inherited memories, Lu Luo and Ziyuan had been bestowed by his mother, Consort Zhen, merely ten days prior.
The old Xiao Ming had clearly requested them for particular motives.
But prior to any action, demise had claimed him.
“Why the tears? I’m perfectly alive.”
Xiao Ming fathomed Lu Luo’s anxiety.
Though merely ten days in service, her shy disposition shone through.
Lu Luo hastily quelled her crying, murmuring, “Your Highness… I feared… you’d lost your mind…”
In Da Yu, “madness” typically implied demonic influence.
Xiao Ming rolled his eyes. “Ridiculous. Rather than fret, why not allow me to inspect your form?”
“Inspect… my form?” Lu Luo blinked, completely bewildered. “What does that imply?”
The prior Prince Qi, Xiao Ming, had been timid, frail, and short-fused—one factor in the Emperor’s aversion.
Nevertheless, the fresh Xiao Ming refused to mimic that demeanor. No point—within his domain, he reigned supreme.
Moreover, Xiao Ming had forever been laid-back, daring, and unblushing. Feigning timidity and peevishness repulsed him.
Now aware of his bond with Lu Luo, much like Jia Baoyu and Xiren, he inwardly celebrated.
After two-plus decades as a reclusive tech devotee, his restrained existence ended here.
Xiao Ming flashed a playful leer. “Inspecting the form involves looking, sniffing, inquiring, and palpating—and naturally, scrutinizing bodily features.”
Lu Luo’s sorrow shifted to amusement. “Since when does Your Highness know healing arts? I grasp looking, sniffing, inquiring, and palpating, but… what’s a bodily feature?”