King Zhou withdrew his sword and turned to look at the piles of firewood and grease stacked below Lutai.
He picked up the torch that had been prepared long ago and threw it down.
The grease caught fire in an instant, and raging flames raced along the fuses laid in advance, shooting out in every direction. Lutai began burning from the bottom up, like an enormous dark-red flower in bloom.
Wen Zhong reined in his horse three li outside the city.
He looked back toward Chaoge and saw the pointed roof of Lutai tilt in the firelight, then billowing black smoke soared into the sky.
He clenched the reins, his nails digging into his palm, tearing open an old wound there once more.
The horse stamped restlessly twice. He squeezed its flanks and galloped south without looking back.
He could not fall into Xiqi's hands, much less bend his knee to that brat Ji Fa.
In Wen Zhong's lifetime, loyalty belonged to Shang. Since he could not stop the army from entering the city, he had to keep this life and leave Yin Shang one last thread of Incense.
At this moment, Chaoge had already fallen into utter chaos. The nobles had opened the city gates early, holding the Jade Wall aloft to welcome the Zhou Army. Palace servants fled or scattered. Only the fire on Lutai burned fiercer and fiercer, dyeing half the sky the color of blood.
King Zhou stood in the corridor, the Human Emperor Sword planted before him. Firelight reflected across his face, illuminating every wrinkle and scar with perfect clarity.
He lowered his head and looked at the blade. The inscriptions were dimming section by section.
As though it foretold that the last bit of Human Emperor Fortune of the Shang Dynasty would also burn