Joyce glanced uneasily between Spade and Mohan as they glared at each other like two Walmart shoppers about to throw down over the last lasagna pan.

"So, what is this about?" Joyce asked warily.

"Sacrilege," Spade spat out, glaring at Mohan as though the old man had singlehandedly destroyed the sandcastles of every child under the age of ten.

"Necessity," Mohan shot back. He shook his head mockingly at Spade like he was watching an edgy preteen make a highly regrettable Facebook post.

Joyce sighed and turned towards the woman also glaring at Mohan.

"Ms. Choo?" Joyce asked, waving to get the old woman's attention.

"An enemy of women has appeared in my shop," Ms. Choo growled, still glaring at Mohan.

Joyce decided not to ask. She didn't really want to hear about anyone's sordid love affairs unless she could blackmail them with it, and she wasn't gutsy enough to aim for Mohan. Or Ms. Choo for that matter, the old woman looked scary as hell when she was mad.

"Why are we in this shop?" Joyce tried again, settling for a more direct question this time.

"Ms. Choo is a member of the Flying Dragons' information network," Mohan said.

"A former member, she's retired," Spade snapped.

"I'm retired," Ms. Choo emphasized.

Joyce blinked. It seemed as though Canton shopkeepers hid as many badass people in their ranks as Chinatown waiters did. Ms. Choo of all people? The old lady with the best lychee?

Now she definitely didn't want to ask.

"Fine, since Ms. Choo's retired, let's buy some lychee and go," Joyce suggested.

"No," all three of them said at once. Joyce sighed and leaned back onto a pile of watermelons as they continued to square off like thugs pretending to want to fight.

Spade finally broke the tension to give Joyce a disapproving look.

"Don't lean on the melons, you'll crush them," he scolded. Joyce sighed and got off the melons.

Mohan also gave up on staring down Ms. Choo, who had at least half a century of customer service behind her. Joyce let out a small sigh of relief as the tension melted away.

"You're going on the Northern Expedition in three weeks, so I wanted to give you something," Ms. Choo finally said, looking at Joyce with a worried gaze.

Joyce gave her a smile. They'd prepared well, or at least as much as they could over the last two months despite the huge amounts of energy devoted to haggling with Taeyun and Jia Xu.

Joyce had quietly sat that one out, focusing on adding Xiang Yu's network to her own and working with Spade on battle plans. More like sitting on the side while Spade made several-step plans and gave them to her one step at a time, but still.

She still didn't feel prepared enough.

"You don't have to," Joyce said, patting Ms. Choo's hand reassuringly. Ms. Choo only shook her head.

"My father was the Commander of the Tiger Gods Division that served the Imperial Court under Marquis Zaiyi," Ms. Choo said. "He was a good shaman and a great commander. He left me something that I think might be of use to you."

"Wow, thank you so much," Joyce said, looking at Ms. Choo with wide eyes. It was like running into a celebrity on a bodega run. Who'd have thought?

Ms. Choo let out a sigh, patting Joyce's shoulder comfortingly. "He wasn't able to use that item, it was above his level. However, I think it will be very useful to you."

She sighed again, looking at Joyce unhappily. "You're too young for this kind of thing," Ms. Choo said. Joyce smiled sheepishly at the disapproving tone.

"I'm also too young to drink but that doesn't stop me," she said. Ms. Choo only shook her head in exasperation before opening the Staff Only door.

"Follow me," Ms. Choo said.

The three of them followed her quietly down the hallway, Mohan ignoring Ms. Choo's unwelcoming glare in his direction. Ms. Choo stopped in her living room, casually taking a nondescript box off her bookshelf and handing it to Joyce.

"Good luck," Ms. Choo said warmly. Joyce offered a smile and opened it, taking out what looked like a scrap of metal.

"Oh cool, is this an artifact?" Joyce asked. Her vision flashed black as the words echoed back.

Joyce whirled around, looking around with shocked eyes. The living room was gone. She was standing in the middle of what looked to be like a giant hall with very expensive-looking decorations.

"Holy shit! What the fuck?!" Joyce gaped around her at what looked to be worth a billionaire's fortune.

A strange energy prickled at her senses. She turned towards the front of the hall, where she could see a man sitting on what appeared to be a throne, partially hidden by a layer of translucent curtains. Joyce squinted, but she was too far away to see anything properly.

Joyce gingerly approached the man. "Hello?" she called. "Do you happen to know where the emergency exit is? Or just a window, I'll just jump."

"Which fool dares to enter without my permission?" The man asked. Joyce jumped nearly a foot into the air as his voice sounded out.

"Yea, sorry about that," Joyce said nervously. "I just came to collect an artifact I could use for the Northern Expedition, no idea how I ended up here."

"So you have come to seek my aid," the man said, sounding as though Joyce was a cockroach that had skittled by in his peripheral vision right before he kissed his girlfriend.

Joyce paused for a moment before going along. "Yes, I'm going on a military expedition to reunify the country because it's kind of a mess right now," she said.

"Hmph. You seek to impress your commander then?"

Joyce winced as she looked down at her unkempt robes. "Um, I'm kind of one of the commanders," she said weakly.

"A child like you intends to wage war? What a foolish notion. You'll be crushed by the battlefield within a week," the man said scornfully. An oppressive aura seemed to emanate from where he was sitting, making her incredibly uncomfortable. Joyce winced again.

"I'm prepared," Joyce said. "We're gonna try to minimize casualties as much as we can, so at least my conscience will be clear on that."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Ridiculous. No conscience is clear in war. Minimizing casualties? A fool certainly acts foolishly as well. You would at least stand a chance if you massacred your enemies, and you want to toss away your only advantage?" The man's voice was tinted with a heartfelt disdain.

"Um," Joyce said uncomfortably. "That's my preference, yeah."

"Why did you even appear before me then?" The man demanded.

"Like I said, I want to unify the country. But I'm the walking equivalent of a nuclear bomb, and I don't want to recreate Hiroshima and Nagasaki in this world," Joyce drew in a deep breath. "That's why I'm begging for some help here."

"A spirit-sent? You certainly are a weak one though. Why on earth would a weakling like you be the commander of something like this?"

Joyce was about to get to that anyway, so she ignored the insult and continued. "I received an edict from the Great Dragon that more or less requires it, so…" she trailed off awkwardly.

"Hiding behind an edict and flinching away from death," the man scoffed. "You are a fool and coward unworthy of my help." He ignored Joyce's sputtered protests.

"The First Apostle massacred the scholars and destroyed countless books. Do you know why he did that?" The man demanded. He continued without waiting for a reply.

"After unifying the country, he crushed the different schools of thought to solidify the ideological base of the new nation. In the absence of the scholars, the shamans gained unprecedented importance. The rise of the shamans altered the course of history so that no nation could stand strong without them, or be crushed while standing with them."

"What do you think the consequences of that were? How many wars avoided, how many cultures preserved as a result? To commit an atrocity to avoid further atrocities, do you think that is something you are capable of?"

The imperious air around the man intensified to an unbearable degree. "It was the act of a tyrant. No, the act of a conqueror. The unfathomable foresight, power, and cruelty of the First Apostle, do you think you have even a fraction of those attributes?"

"Um," Joyce said uncomfortably. She fumbled for a reply before giving up and keeping silent.

"You lack the qualities of a ruler," the man said in a disappointed tone. He waved his hand in a dismissive motion, wide sleeves swooshing through the air authoritatively. "You are unsuited for war and conquest, and even less suited for unifying this divided country."

He pointed a finger towards her. "What are you even fighting for?"

Survival. Joyce nearly said it reflexively, but managed to hold back the response. This whole exchange was both hair-pulling levels of annoying and terrifying, and she wanted to just get it over with without getting smushed to a pulp for giving a half-assed reason. She pushed through the anger boiling through her veins to reply.

"I just want to live a good life," Joyce said.

"Oho? What a foolish goal," he said mockingly.

Joyce let out a laugh as she shook her head.

"Foolish? It sounds pretty flaky, doesn't it? But that's really it. I want to live a good life," she said. "What do you think that requires?"

She began ticking items off on her fingers. "The country needs to be at peace. The economy has to be doing well. Society can't be too divided. There can't be too many inequalities, or injustices, if we want to keep things running smoothly. Good infrastructure, decent public services, social mobility. There can't be room for too many fanatics or zealots. There needs to be enough liberties and rights."

She looked up at the man again. "Do you think these conditions create themselves?"

The man's gaze seemed to pierce straight through the curtains. "Go on," he commanded.

"Even with the way this country is now, I intend to achieve my goals. And I think that's very possible. Everyone wants a good life. If they have a chance to do so, they'll seize it. Do you know how many people suffocated in shipping containers, died in deserts, rivers, or the back of a truck for just a chance to live a better life? In my world, there were a lot of people like that. I don't think this world is too different."

Joyce let out a deep sigh. "This world is honestly pretty lucky. Even the smallest nations have a good number of shamans and spirits, so you guys didn't have colonialism. Or even the world wars. Y'all skimped straight out on a whole shitload of wars because of that. You guys don't even have nuclear bombs, which is also pretty neat. But there are still a lot of things that didn't change. That's why I think I can succeed, even if I'm an outsider."

Joyce tried not to flinch as the man behind the curtain stared at her intensely. She held back another sigh and gave her conclusion. "I will create the conditions to live a good life. That is why I'm doing this."

The man stared at her silently for a long pause before throwing his head back and laughing. Joyce stared in bewilderment as the man cackled like a gambler who'd got a winning slot.

"Ha! That's a good one!" The man laughed, slapping a hand onto his knee.

"Um, I wasn't joking though," Joyce objected in a small voice. The man ignored her.

"Waging war to live a good life. That's the funniest thing I've ever heard." The man shook his head, the beads over his face clacking into each other. "I suppose it's better than what I expected. At the very least, you did not foolishly say something like waging war to end future wars."

"Yeah, didn't work out in my world," Joyce said. "Just motivated people to develop more efficient ways to kill each other."

"Blood and destruction have only ever resulted in more of the same, only a fool would think otherwise." The man slowly stood up. "But I suppose you are not that foolish."

Joyce stood as still as she could, holding her breath as the man walked towards the curtain, robes rustling as he moved. His hand reached out and the curtain parted.

"Very well, foolish child. I will accept your reason to fight."

Joyce gaped as the man stepped into full view. A jade headpiece adorned with beads partially hid the man's face, but he was unmistakably handsome with an imperious and commanding air. He wore multilayered robes of black silk embroidered with gold, with very-expensive-looking gold, jade, and ivory accessories. The man looked like he was wearing the contents of a millionaire's bank account.

"Wow," she said uncertainly. If the throne wasn't a dead giveaway, seeing him properly definitely was.

"Do you not intend to bow before the First Apostle?" The man asked. Joyce tried not to wince. As if meeting the Great Dragon wasn't enough, now she was meeting the First Emperor of China.

"Should I? I barely bowed before the Great Dragon," Joyce said uncertainly. "Like, all respect intended, I grew up in a democracy."

Qin Shihuang laughed again. Joyce decided not to complain. After all, it was better to be a joke than a smear on the floor.

"I will accept that excuse then, as you are also an Apostle. A ruler should not bow before another," Shihuang said.

"Definitely not becoming a ruler but okay," Joyce said. Shihuang acted as though he hadn't heard her.

"I hailed fire upon the world to unify this country. There was no awe-inspiring reason behind my conquest of the Warring States. I wanted to be rid of the annoyances that came with an endless war, the inconveniences of a stunted and inconsistent economy and culture. I simply wished to shape the world as I liked," he said. The aura around him continued to intensify as he spoke until Joyce felt as though she was being crushed like a beer can.

"And so I did." Shihuang looked straight at her. "And so will you." He gave her a quick look from head to toe, looking slightly displeased at what he saw.

"Even though you look like this," Shihuang said.

"Hey," Joyce protested. She patted her robes, trying to smooth out the wrinkles.

"In either case, you are an Apostle after all. Killing a human is much easier than nurturing one, you will soon understand that very well. But if you can maintain your convictions it will not be impossible to complete your goal," Shihuang said.

"Thank you," Joyce said earnestly. "That really means a lot to me, like, especially coming from you. You exist in my world too, you know, just not as cool. Or good looking. The paintings showed you as kind of ugly and fat with a pot-belly."

Shihuang ignored the more insolent parts of her comment. "I will bequeath this upon you," he declared imperiously, taking out a jade seal. Joyce bowed politely and gave her thanks.

"The Conqueror's Imperial Seal," Shihuang explained. "It will be of great use to you."

"Wow, I'm really grateful," Joyce said, "I'm just going to ignore the conqueror part for the sake of this conversation." He ignored her.

"You may use it to command any and all spirits in this country," Shihuang said. "Of course, its use depends on your power. For now, your use of it will be severely limited. You do not seem to believe in the Mandate of Heaven, but that is just as well. Such a thing must be earned anyhow."

"I'll make good use of it," Joyce promised. "I'll definitely return it after I've completed my goal."

Shihuang only laughed at her again before waving a hand at her.

"Very well then, if that is what you think. However, I do not expect to meet you again." He began to blur as Joyce squinted in confusion. "Go back, young fool. You have been here long enough."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Joyce asked. The palace shimmered and wavered before her eyes. "Nevermind then. Thanks again! Sorry I forgot to get your autograph!"

Her eyes shot open to the yellowish light of Ms. Choo's room. "Whoa."

She frowned at the hard surface beneath her and rolled into a sitting position, patting at the floor.

"What the hell?" she muttered.

"Joyce! Oh my god, are you alright?!" Joyce turned towards Spade's panicked voice. Spade looked at her with a shocked expression. "You suddenly passed out, I've already called Kajio. Mohan didn't know what was wrong either, he and Ms. Choo are still arguing over there."

Joyce patted Spade on the shoulder reassuringly, trying to ignore the shouting in the hallway.

"I'm fine," Joyce unclenched her fist to reveal the jade in her hand. "And…tada! Would you look at that."

Spade stared at her blankly.

"It's the Conqueror's Seal," Joyce said cheerfully. "We've got ourselves a trump card."