"Wordless, I climb the western tower alone; the moon hangs like a hook..."
Within the Divine Capital, Liu Guangzheng drank alone atop a tall tower. Though he had long anticipated the current situation and knew that once Zhao Cheng made his move, it would shake Heaven and split stone, now that things had truly come to this, even with all his prior preparations, a touch of bleak sorrow still rose in his heart.
The struggle to Seize the Dragon had always been a matter of one side rising as the other fell. For a time, two sides—or even several—might stand in a divided realm, each holding its own against the others. But once that balance was broken, survival or destruction would be decided in the span of a morning or evening.
He also knew that his defeat had not simply been due to the gap in weaponry. More importantly, it had been a matter of people's hearts.
He possessed advanced knowledge from the modern age. He knew that history was not without examples of millet and rifles defeating aircraft and artillery.
After all, no matter how powerful a weapon was, the one wielding it was ultimately still a person.
Heaven's timing, favorable terrain, and the hearts of the people—only when all three came together could victory or defeat be determined.
Zhao Cheng's weapons might have been more advanced and more powerful, but if the people's hearts had been with him, then with Divine Province's vastness, he could have traded space for time and worn Zhao Cheng's forces down through guerrilla warfare.
But the crux of the matter was that the people's hearts were not with him.
Indeed, for countless millennia throughout history, those who represented the people's hearts had always been the great clans and powerful families, the noble class,