Great Wind

The great wind rose, and the clouds soared!

Banners stood in the wilderness; mountains and rivers reeled. Blood filled the Great Wall frontier. The wind wailed beneath the dimming sun. Tumbleweed snapped, grass withered—there was no road home.

The aged Minister of War, Zhe ChangGong, understood what it meant for four hundred thousand troops to leave the frontier. Everyone would die. All they could do was pounce fiercely before death, weakening the fiends with all their might and laying the groundwork for their future extermination. It was only a pity for those young, iron-blooded Military Generals who had just spread their wings like great rocs. They were the soul of the army, yet they had to be sent to their deaths.

A thousand armies were easy to find, but a single general was hard to come by. Those young iron-blooded commanders were worth far more than the pedantic, useless fools in the Imperial Court who constantly prattled about the realm and its people. What a pity.

A four-horse war chariot stood in the center of the army as Minister Zhe rose tremblingly to his feet.

The wind blew, scattering his white hair and making him seem even older.

Yet his eyes were no longer clouded. He saw clearly—the weathered faces of the old veteran soldiers behind him, and the boys of fifteen or sixteen. There was fear in their eyes, fury, and relief...

His crimson brocade official robe stood out vividly, visible to all. The shouts gradually subsided as every gaze fixed upon their commander.

Banners snapped in the wind, black armor bristled with killing intent. The four hundred thousand soldiers had no path of retreat.

A sound-amplifying formation carried his voice throughout the ranks.

"This old man is Zhe ChangGong. I am over sixty this year and have served