The Pale Era

In the 320th year of the Zhao era, winter had already lasted three years.

This was a dynasty in its twilight years, and the end of every rule.

The Northern Baidi cavalry shattered the Great Wall, while the burning “Heavenly Fire” lit up the fallen cities. At court, factions schemed against one another, and the verbal blades wielded by the purists and the practical scholars were deadlier than real swords. Land was swallowed up by the powerful, refugees ate their own children, and the Red Turban Army rose in revolt. The White Winter froze not only rivers, but also an entire age’s chance of survival.

Lu Chen, an illegitimate son of the Marquis of Zhenbei’s household and the descendant of a disgraced official after the fall of Yumenguan, waited to die at Ghost-Cry Post, a place of exile.

Then, on that snowy night, the Di people’s executioner’s blade came down. As he teetered on the brink of death, an unfamiliar voice rang in his mind: the legacy of “Warfare,” dormant for a thousand years. The tactics and strategies of the great generals of old, from Han Xin and Li Jing to Yue Fei, flooded his soul. He led three hundred battered soldiers through a breakout in the snowy night, then burned the Blackwater River with a fire attack. From that moment on, he set out on a path from which there was no turning back.