Beneath blue skies and white clouds, across a green grassy plain, a not particularly large army advanced at an unhurried pace. At the front of this impressive-looking force, three extraordinary men rode side by side.
"Pah!"
A glob of spit struck the ground, actually smashing a small pit into it.
"Damn it," a fiery, boorish voice rang out. "That Gongsun Zan really is a piece of work. Our elder brother going to that Heaven-Sacrifice Alliance was showing them respect—it was their good fortune and blessing. Yet he kept making excuses and changing the subject. What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"
Needless to say, who else but Zhang Fei, Third Master Zhang, could spit hard enough to leave a pit in the ground, possess such a fiery temper, and have such a rough voice?
Speaking of which, Third Master Zhang could be considered a powerful figure in his own right, a proper member of the landowning class. He had received a higher education since childhood and could even paint exquisite portraits of beauties; his talent was truly remarkable. Yet his wild-bear build, rough voice, and explosive temper made it impossible to connect him with the words "talented and cultured." Perhaps this was what they called facing one's true heart and acting as one pleased?
Guan Yu still wore that red poker face. It was impossible to tell whether his narrow, slanted phoenix eyes were open or closed, while his magnificent beard fluttered in the wind with a certain elegance. "Third Brother, stop talking such nonsense. So what if we do not go? Those warlords all hold their heads high while keeping their hands and feet low. Even if we went, we would only suffer their cold stares. I would be ashamed to keep company with them. Once we achieve