Changshan is truly settled. Young Zhao Yun hid behind a pile of firewood and watched the Yellow Turban rebels burning down a neighboring village.
There was a broken gun on the ground. Taller than his people.
He picked it up.
From Zhaojiazhuang to Jieqiao, from Gongsun Zan to Liu Bei, from a man freezing his bones on a hill to riding alone among thousands of troops to capture the flag——
"Your Majesty, at dawn tomorrow, there will be three flags of Cao Jun outside the city."
White horse and silver spear, unparalleled loyalty and courage. This is not a legend - this is Zhao Yun.
