"Brother Xuande, did you know that the Taoyuan sworn alliance was supposed to take place three years later?" In the wine shop, Li Xuan played with the forged bamboo slips of the genealogy and chuckled at the back of Liu Bei making medicine for his sick mother. Outside the window, Guan Yu was competing with pork, and Zhang Fei's snake spear was still stuck next to the wine jar. History is shaking at the tip of the knife, and he has prepared ten ways to turn this oath that should have been passed down through the ages into a Shura field where heroes are buried.
