The great Han Dynasty was in decline, the eunuchs were in chaos, and the Yellow Turbans were rising.
I, Zhao Zilong, bid farewell to my master and stepped into this whirlpool of troubled times single-handedly.
In front of the Changban slope, Cao Cao's cavalry was like a forest, but I came in and out seven times, my robes stained with blood.
Not for fame and fortune, but because Adou in my arms is the last trace of the great man's blood.
When the tip of the spear pierced the enemy general's throat, I suddenly remembered what my master said before his death:
"In these troubled times, we need a flag that never falls."
