Dusk clouds hang low above the city of Chang'an, and the cold spring of the seventeenth year of Zhenguan has not yet faded away.
"Urgent report from the border -" Huang Menguan's voice tore through the solemnity of the Jinluan Palace. Sandalwood scented the hall, Li Shimin held a memorial in his hand, his brows gradually furrowed like distant mountains. The green smoke from the bronze crane incense burner in the hall suddenly stagnated, all civil and military officials lowered their heads in unison, and the copper bells on the eaves outside the hall made a tinny sound in the draft.
"At the edge of the Turkic invaders, Youzhou is in danger..." Taizong tapped his fingertips on the dragon chair. His eyes swept across the court officials, and finally landed on a tall figure in the generals' row. "Luo Qing family, what do you think?"
The young general stepped out from the crowd. His face under the golden crown with tied hair was still a bit green, the hem of his crimson official robe swayed slightly with his steps, and the soft silver armor around his waist glowed coldly in the candlelight. The smell of incense mixed with ambergris in the palace suddenly became clear, and Luo Tong unconsciously tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.
"I'm requesting orders to go on an expedition." The voice was not loud, but it was instantly audible in the hall. The eighteen-year-old General Huaiyuan straightened his back, candlelight dancing in his eyes, "The last general is willing to lead three thousand light cavalry to attack Yinshan Mountain at night."
