At the end of the Ming dynasty, two stone lions have crouched outside the county yamen for three hundred years, watching dynasties rise and fall and human lives pass like grass. The swordsman Liu Feiyun wanders here, while the woman general Jiang Yuqing holds a lonely city. The Qing army marches south, and the realm collapses. A sword can cut down a hundred men, but it cannot stop history’s iron hooves. The realm cannot be saved, nor can its people. All that remains is a dewdrop in a stone lion’s eye, reflecting the last flash of swordlight before dawn.
