On the banks of the Wu River.
The Overlord of his age sat alone astride his horse on the riverbank, watching the surging tide of the Han army approach, an indescribable melancholy welling up within him.
The night before.
He had watched helplessly as the woman he loved slit her throat before his eyes.
Her blood had blossomed like plum flowers.
The Han army advanced slowly, its formations like a forest, its blades like rain.
How many of these men had once been his soldiers? Yet now, all of them gazed at him with burning eyes.
On the river.
A small, black-canopied boat floated in the middle of the river, seemingly watching.
In the sky.
A group of Black-Robed People stood in empty space, quietly watching this historic scene.
Astride Wuzhui, Xiang Yu looked bedraggled, but his expression was composed.
A few years ago.
He could never have imagined that he would find himself in this situation.
His valor was unmatched, and throughout his life, he had been inferior to no one.
Even after losing to Jiang Yang in the King of Qin's Palace back then, he had firmly believed that he had encountered the god Taiyi.
What was wrong with losing to a heavenly god?
Knowing his death was near, he recalled the method the god Taiyi had imparted to him in the King of Qin's Palace that year.
It had made his will all the firmer and more fearless, yet something had always been missing.
Only now did he understand: all he lacked was death.
"Did Taiyi mean for me to see him after I died? So be it. I have indeed been a failure as the Western Chu Overlord. Then let me bid farewell to this Mortal Realm."
With that, Xiang Yu charged, driving back hundreds of