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Southern outskirts of Bianjing, Red-Eyed Army camp.
Dozens of resolute faces filled the tent.
The air was thick with the mingled smell of rust and leather, punctuated now and then by the crisp clink of armor striking armor.
"Heavenly King, the brothers can barely hold themselves back any longer!"
An armored general strode forth abruptly, the saber at his waist ringing sharply with his movement.
His blazing gaze shot toward the figure seated at the head of the tent. "The walls of Bianjing are right before us. When will you order the assault?"
The Red-Eyed Army had surged northward like bamboo splitting before a blade, defeating Bianjing's royal army with almost invincible momentum.
Ban Sheng had routed Xie Ling in Yunyue Marsh of Jiangnan Circuit, then advanced and retreated through Jiangnan Circuit three times before finally smashing Great Qi's five-Hundred-Thousand Army with a single blow.
Their prestige had reached its peak.
A bronze statue had been dug from the silt of the Yellow River, its head wrapped in red cloth, its eyes wide with fury, terrifying to behold.
Ban Sheng had stood and shouted, "Since death is certain anyway, why not fight our way into Bianjing and drag the Nine Great Surnames from their high horses?"
"Heroes are not born to any breed. Who dares call himself a true man?"
And so followers had gathered like clouds... and only a year had passed to this day.
Six hundred thousand Red-Eyed Army troops now stood beneath the city walls.
Two people occupied the places of honor within the tent. One was a burly middle-aged man, unarmored and dressed in coarse hemp robes.
His face bore the marks of time, yet an aura of authority that needed no anger still shone between