Two thousand Dare-to-Fight Warriors appeared in Luoyang like the wind.
Then, on an ordinary morning, as the sun rose and morning light spilled down, these Dare-to-Fight Warriors left the city like the wind once more.
Many carriages had appeared among the mounted procession. Naturally, they carried more than just Diao Chan: there were also Cai Yong and his younger daughter, who was not yet ten, as well as many books, chiefly unique copies and exceptionally valuable volumes, all to be taken to Zhao City.
They naturally wore no armor on the march. Their tied-up hair streamed backward in the wind, revealing lean, capable faces.
Many Imperial Academy students called their friends over to watch. This might be their only chance in this lifetime to see the Dare-to-Fight Warriors.
Diao Chan lifted the carriage curtain and gazed at the city where she had lived for so many years yet had never properly looked around. She did not know whether she would ever return.
The students of Luoyang caught a fleeting glimpse of a woman as beautiful as someone stepping out of a painting departing, stirring waves of commotion and astonished cries.
Luo Shu led the Dare-to-Fight Warriors out of Luoyang. Facing the towering city and listening to the surging Luo River, the Luo Clan Scions and Dare-to-Fight Warriors dismounted one after another. Diao Chan watched with some curiosity.
Everyone dropped to one knee together toward Luoyang and the Luo River, crossing their hands and bowing their heads. Luo Shu raised his hands high above his head, while everyone else held theirs against their chests, their expressions solemn.
Diao Chan immediately understood what they were about to do. These were gestures of praise to the Sage King handed down since ancient times, among the oldest of all the ways of praising him.