Mr. Shen, Could You Teach Us Instead of Returning Our Flying Sword?
"You don't need to rush to the front lines."
"Really, there's no hurry. The soldiers are holding the front line. You've worked hard for the Tang Dynasty for so many years—it's time to rest and enjoy life..."
"What? You say you weren't one of the Tang soldiers back then, just an Artifact Spirit who inherited some of their memories? Same difference, same difference. We've entered a new era now. Wouldn't it be good to see more of this age, to see more of the happy lives we live today?"
"Once you've seen enough and understood what kind of lives we live now, won't you have even more motivation to defend our home and country?"
After spending a month wreaking havoc along the northwestern border, Shen Le fought tooth and nail to drag Li Xingtang back to his own estate. He arranged a room and a bed for him. Though Li Xingtang did not need to eat, all manner of supplies still had to be prepared:
Lubricating oil for wiping down his armor, fine cloth for polishing it, an armor stand for storing it—assuming that one day Li Xingtang neither wanted to stand nor lie down, but wanted to hang himself from a rack instead;
Silver-polishing cloth, along with assorted tools for maintaining leather straps and boots...
Oh, right, he also needed clothes. Other people wore clothes on the outside; he wore them beneath his armor.
One set of Tang Dynasty general's official robes, one set of casual clothes, and one round-collared robe. Add gloves, wrap his face in a cloth mask, and pull his helmet down a little lower, and he looked exactly like a living person:
[Good! Just like that! Very nice!]
Two Silk Skirts flitted around