I Really Don’t Want to Be a Tyrant

Chaoge, Star-Plucking Pavilion.

Jiang Yuan held a bronze wine goblet in his hand, his face expressionless as he gazed upon the extravagant revelry before him. The women draped in gauzy silk before him—each one a rare beauty—were all tributes sent by ministers and minor vassal states eager to win his favor. As for their origins, Jiang Yuan did not inquire. It was clear not all of them came willingly; some were surely abducted by force.

The woman reclining in his arms was even more breathtaking—a peerless beauty, her skin like jade, her figure graceful and alluring, and her peach blossom eyes mesmerizing as she gazed seductively at the stern-faced Jiang Yuan.

Seemingly returning to his senses, Jiang Yuan looked at the beauty in his arms, smiled gently, pulled her closer, and kissed her deeply. Only then did he drain his goblet in satisfaction.

He could hardly believe that he had crossed over into the Shang Dynasty and become the infamous tyrant King Zhou!

At this moment, the Shang Dynasty was teetering on the edge of doom. The Star-Plucking Pavilion had been built, the cruel paoluo torture had already been enacted—his empire was no longer the heart of the people.

Jiang Yuan, who knew a bit of history, understood his current situation: he was merely enjoying himself while waiting for death.

He was filled with indignation. Damn it, if transmigration was his fate, couldn’t he at least get a cheat code? Why did he have nothing at all?

He had complained about this countless times, but still received no response. He began to wonder