That voice echoed through the academy, piercing walls, piercing towers, piercing the clouds, and carrying into the distance.
At the same time, in every corner of the continent, countless people were doing the same thing—passing on faith.
In a military camp in Heaven Dou City, young soldiers sat in a circle, listening to an old general tell the story of Zhao Feng from years past. The old general's voice was aged yet powerful as he told how Zhao Feng had grown from an ordinary soldier into the commander of the Heroic Martyr Army, how he had always led from the front on the battlefield, how he had inspired morale in hopeless situations, and how he had held fast to his faith through a thousand years of loneliness.
"Commander Zhao Feng once said something." The old general looked at the young soldiers, tears glimmering in his eyes. "He said true protection isn't about how many enemies you kill, but how many people you protect. What we must protect isn't victory, nor glory, but those who need our protection."
The young soldiers listened in silence. Then someone raised a hand and asked, "General, who is our enemy now?"
The old general was silent for a while, then said, "Enemy? Perhaps there is no specific enemy. What we must fight against is fear, despair, indifference, and selfishness. These are the true enemies. They are more terrifying than any foe, because they destroy us from within."
The young soldiers nodded thoughtfully.
In a small village outside Heaven Dou City, an old woman was teaching children to sing. It was an ancient song, the Ode to the Heroic Martyrs, passed down after that great war a thousand years ago. The old woman's voice was no longer clear, and was even a little off-key, but the