The mighty Yangtze flows east, its waves washing away the tears of heroes.
Born in the dirt of the frontier and raised amid the smoke of war, he carried one simple, steadfast loyalty in his heart: to be the Han realm’s last garrison soldier. From Ding Yuan’s camp to Dong Zhuo’s halls, from a lone horseman at Hulao Pass to a broken halberd at White Gate, the world mocked him as a servant of three masters, never seeing the shattered realm balanced on the tip of his halberd. The warlords called him fickle, unaware that a solitary moon of the Han dynasty had always hung in his heart.
This is the war between a lone wolf and an entire age of aristocratic clans, and the story of a warrior who protected the last glimmer of light in the clumsiest way he knew: when faced with the choice, he would rather break than bend. When the Red Hare tramples the dust of Luoyang, and the Sky-Piercer Halberd lights up the night in Chang’an, all the betrayal and struggle, pride and downfall, are tempered in the torrents of history into a single verse:
“Right and wrong, success and failure, all fade in a blink... The green hills remain, while the sun sets red again and again.”
[The heart of the story]
A man whom history reduced to “brave but brainless” chooses, amid the chaos, to become a halberd with a heart: he would rather break than bend.
