The dragon roars, the sky is thunderous, the tiger roars, and the wind roars over thousands of mountains.
The iron armor still carries the blood of the previous dynasty, and the jade flute has been blown with new fire.
During the Zhengjia period of the Great Xia Dynasty, Jin Ou gradually cracked, and the crisis was like a pile of eggs hanging in the sky. The nine gates and nobles occupy the court, weaving a heavenly iron net. The noble men from poor families feel helpless when they look at the rich gates, and the people in the head of Guizhou turn their backs on jade food. When Emperor Wu was dying, the dragon case was three inches thick with dust; the kings were vying for the tripod, and the bones of the palace were buried nine layers deep. The beacon smoke suddenly rises in the northern Xinjiang, the Northern Hungarian wolf cavalry knocks at the pass, and the cold blade reflects the thirty years of drunken life, dreams and death in the Central Plains.
When the world hangs upside down:
The iron-blooded King Dongfang Xu of Qi came out of the capital, his armor reflected the setting sun like blood;
Su Changqiao, a counselor from a poor family, threw his pen and tore the silk book, and the ink marks turned into thousands of miles of rivers and mountains;
The lone general from the border town suddenly drew his bow and shot at the wolf, his arrow breaking through the centuries-old haze.
There are also knights from the Jianghu who step on the moon, the beauties in the palace split silk into flags, and the common people in the market rise up. They used green blood as ink, swords as pens, and together wrote the inscription of wind and clouds under the bloody sky - this inscription is not gold, jade, or pearls, but the determination of broken blades embedded in flesh and blood, the immortality of loyal souls embedded in history, and the light of sparks embedded in the eternal night.
See how the iron-blooded King of Qi turned the tide, how the counselors of Guanhanmen defeated the situation with wisdom, and listen to the lonely general from the border city howling in the flames of war:
The clouds follow the dragon, the wind follows the tiger, are they not for the common people? But I hope that this life will become a firewood, and I dare to shine on the mountains and rivers for thousands of years!
