Northern Wei has swallowed up the northern Hu tribes, sharpening its weapons and watching the world like a tiger poised to pounce.
Western Zhao has shut itself off from the world, content in its own isolation, while its heroes have lost their spirit.
Southern Qi is like a fire blazing beneath a pot of oil: endless infighting has brought it to the height of its power, and now it is beginning to decline.
In this world of rigid hierarchy,
An Shuo is born into the lowest register of Southern Qi and, by ill luck, is conscripted into the auxiliary troops.
He takes up a blade, determined to rise above his station.
But the court is shrouded in uncertainty: the emperor trusts no one, the chancellor wields unchecked power, the crown prince builds a faction, officials abuse their authority, and aristocratic clans line their pockets.
He realizes that no matter how high he climbs, he is only a pawn.
If that is so, then he will use his blade to pierce the sky that blinds them, cut through the brambles blocking the way, and put the warriors in charge!
A yellow hound on his left, a gray falcon on his right: who says the young cannot be wild?
He spurs his horse and charges, a thousand riders sweeping across the plains.
He will lead a hundred thousand men in black armor across the great river, and make his name resound throughout the land!
Needless to say, it looks good, but it's missing. Nian Yang 🥰