Outside Chang'an.
As Yin Kuang watched the ancient city of Chang'an in the distance, where thick smoke mingled with the sunset glow and battle cries merged with wails, he sighed with emotion—and yet, inexplicably, felt a surge of exhilaration. Such a majestic ancient capital, steeped in history and forged from centuries of Han culture, had been personally guided by him toward destruction, stripped forever of its bustle and prosperity. That sense of pride was truly beyond words.
The jet-black fragment of the Imperial Seal of the Realm in his hand had lost the luster of jade due to the destructive power contained within it. It was black as though it had been soaked in ink, like a stone. Yet Yin Kuang could sense an intense "power of destruction" within it—this was the last burst of power Dong Zhuo had squeezed out before his death, enough to destroy the Imperial Seal of the Realm, which was ordinarily nearly impossible to damage. It was hardly strange for it to contain the "power of destruction." And this was exactly what Yin Kuang needed most!
Destruction? Ruin? Yin Kuang suddenly looked at Wang Ning and smiled. "This is a beautiful sight, isn't it?" Naturally, he meant the sight of Chang'an consumed by war before them. Wang Ning replied indifferently, "It's all right." To him, the final moment when life faded away was the most beautiful.
Wang Yue sighed, saddened by the destruction of the ancient capital Chang'an. Then he withdrew his gaze from the city, lifted Dong Zhuo's head slightly, and said, "Boy, take me to see His Majesty at once." It was clear that after killing Dong Zhuo, the old man no longer felt any need to be polite to Yin Kuang. Yin Kuang said, "Don't worry, Senior. His Majesty doesn't have wings—he