When Zhao Jue, the king of Xiangyang, appeared with a young and tender face, behind the love and confidant, there was nothing more than ripples of orange and treacherous clouds. When the long smoke fell and turned into dust, the king's hegemony was gone in an instant. All the tenderness was just a dream.
Yeah? No? But I saw a wisp of blue smoke rising up and melting into the high sky.
Note: Fellow Zhan Zhao, in order to avoid cannon fodder tendencies, there will be no fifth brother playing soy sauce.