Tang Dynasty: Starting with 3,000 elite cavalry, a bloody battle to retake the city.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

"Hahaha, Fatty Cheng, take this arrow! Ghost-Faced Archer, a hundred paces, a perfect shot—die!"

"Watch me take down that dog's head! Pfft!"

Suddenly, a youthful yet impassioned shout of battle assaulted my ears.

Han Ye frowned.

Having fought for so long, he was overly sensitive to the word "kill," as if a knife tip were cutting through his nerves.

He glanced to the side, then froze, before finally managing to curl the corners of his mouth into a smile.

Several young men in fine clothes, wearing colorful "ghost masks" on their faces, were chasing and playing around on a street corner.

Of course, they weren't real masks—they were all over the place, painted with smiling faces, angry faces, and even cat and dog faces like graffiti.

But they held wooden swords in their hands, bamboo arrows at their waists, and shouted "The Ghost-Faced General is here!" They imitated the legendary scene and acted out that tragic battle.

Han Ye was stunned.

He then smiled.

So... they were imitating me too?

These children have taken his name as a symbol of heroism.

They regarded that bloody battle as the most thrilling legend.

He stood in the sunlight, his white robe fluttering in the wind, watching the group of running figures, and a warm feeling that he couldn't describe suddenly rose in his heart.

"Oh……"

"We really... became a story."

Han Ye twitched the corners of his mouth and chuckled softly, his voice so soft it sounded like he was talking to himself, yet it carried an undeniable desolation.

They are indeed imitating him—

He had a spear in his hand, a bow and arrow on his back, and wore a crooked ghost mask on his face.

Ah, isn't that just him?

The "Ghost-Faced General" who once struck fear into the hearts of enemy nations and was a legend among the people.

But now, these young men in brocade robes are actually imitating them quite well, even their postures are about 70-80% similar.

"Be careful!"

A startled cry shattered the afternoon's hustle and bustle.

Han Ye was lost in thought when he suddenly caught a glimpse of a golden-feathered arrow flying through the air with a sharp whistling sound, aimed straight for his chest!

too fast!

The boys were completely stunned, their faces turned pale, and they stood there with their mouths agape, forgetting even to breathe.

The guards beside them were all highly skilled, and they instinctively tried to intercept the arrows, with blades hidden in their sleeves and palms already moving—but the arrows were too fast, and they had barely moved when the arrows were already upon them!

"Buzz—!"

The air seemed to tighten for a moment.

The next moment, that slender hand simply lifted up slightly.

Spread your fingers, then clench them again—

The golden arrow hovered in mid-air, its tip no more than three inches from his throat, its tail still trembling and emitting a low hum.

The entire room fell silent.

The guards froze in mid-air, their pupils contracted sharply, and they felt as if they had been struck by lightning.

They didn't stop them.

But this person... managed to catch the Broken Army Arrow with just two fingers?!

Empty-handed?!

"hiss--"

The group of young masters gasped in shock, their legs going weak.

They originally thought the arrow would at most give them a fright, but to their surprise, Fatty Cheng's hand slipped and the arrow actually went astray!

If something really happens, not only will his own father not forgive him, but the Censorate will write their names into the impeachment memorial the very next day!

But this young man before me...

They looked to be about the same age as them, or even thinner, and their clothes were unremarkable.

The results of it?

He raised his hand to catch the arrow with a calm and collected demeanor, as if he were catching not a deadly arrow, but a willow catkin drifting by the roadside.

"Fatty Cheng! You almost caused a major incident!" The young master in the lead glared angrily at the fat man behind him who was covered in sweat.

He immediately turned and rushed to Han Ye, cupping his hands in a respectful bow, his tone so sincere he almost knelt down: "Brother, please forgive me! My brother's hand slipped; he had no intention of offending you. If he has harmed you in the slightest, I will be eternally apprehensive!"

They adopted an extremely humble posture.

Han Ye's eyes flickered slightly, a hint of surprise in his heart.

These scions of prominent families are not pretentious and are willing to admit their mistakes and correct them.

He intended to laugh it off and turn to leave.

But the young master's eyes were frighteningly bright; he stared intently at him and blurted out:

"Are you... imitating the 'Ghost-Faced General'?"

In short, it was like a stone falling into a still lake.

The young master was taken aback, then nodded vigorously: "Exactly! We have long admired General Ghost Face, and today we have come to the training ground to practice our military formations and emulate his heroic bearing!"

Han Ye's gaze swept over the gaudy mask in his hand—red lacquer with gold trim, intricate patterns, like a theatrical mask sold at a temple fair.

He couldn't help but shake his head, his voice lowering slightly: "Wrong."

"The mask of the Ghost General... is not like this."

Everyone was taken aback.

"Their masks are only black and white, they contain laughter amidst tears, and tears amidst laughter, they are nameless and silent."

"It's not for publicity, but for... concealment."

The moment those words were spoken, the surroundings fell silent.

Not only were the boys stunned, but even the guards held their breath, their hearts trembling.

They certainly knew their masks weren't "authentic" enough.

But who has ever seen the real Ghost-Faced General?

There are no portraits, the imperial court never records them, and folk tales are scattered and fragmented.

They could only piece it together from their imagination—adding some gold powder to make it look imposing, and drawing it to look ferocious to scare people.

How could this young man know even such details?!

The young master's eyes suddenly lit up, and he grabbed Han Ye's wrist, his voice trembling: "You...you really saw the Ghost-Faced General?!"

"Tell me quickly! What kind of person is he?! Is he really like the legends say, a man who can single-handedly rout an army?!"

He was so excited that his face turned red, as if he had seen a living god.

Han Ye looked into his burning eyes and suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

He smiled, a very faint, distant smile, like the wind blowing across a tattered flag on an old battlefield.

"I've seen it."

I've seen more than just it.

The face beneath that mask had been stained with the blood of enemies and shed its own tears.

That black armor was the first and last battle robe he personally donned.

But who can I tell all this to?

He shook his head slightly, his voice calm to the point of being detached: "The story of the Ghost-Faced General has already spread throughout Chang'an."

If you want to hear a story, you can easily find one in a teahouse or tavern.

"But you must remember—"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over each young face.

"They wear masks not to be worshipped."

"It's because they're too ordinary."

"So ordinary that once they take off their masks, they are just soldiers who can never go home again."

The wind swept across the training ground, fluttering the hems of the boys' clothes and also scattering those casual words.

The young master was stunned and speechless for a long time.

Han Ye said no more.

He suddenly reached out, his movements as natural as if he were borrowing a classmate's pen and ink, and took the bow directly from the young master's waist.

"Buzz—!"

The bowstring vibrated slightly, as if sensing something.

In that instant, Han Ye's fingertips traced the bow arm, and his eyes changed slightly.

This bow... although it is newly made, its material and structure are extremely similar to the standard war bows used on the border back then.

He remained calm and simply drew back the bow slowly—

The full moon shone like a wheel; the arrow had not yet left the bowstring, yet a murderous intent was already surging within.

The guards on both sides stood like iron towers, their murderous aura as sharp as frost blades, making one's breath catch in their throat!

Soldiers!

A true elite soldier!

Han Ye's pupils contracted slightly as he instantly sensed the chilling, bloodthirsty aura that permeated his very bones—these were no ordinary soldiers defending the city, but rather elite troops who had truly fought on the battlefield and tasted the blood of the enemy!

This group of people had secretly locked onto him.

But the young master they were protecting was completely unguarded.

Seeing Han Ye reach out as if to take the bow, he actually handed over the longbow in his hand, the action as natural as if he were entrusting it to a close friend.

"Buzz—"

With a slight tremor of the bowstring, Han Ye raised his hand and pulled it back, his movements fluid and without the slightest hesitation.

The arrow was pointing at a rough cloth target hanging high on the city wall of Chang'an.

A hundred paces away? No, it's probably close to two hundred paces!

The crowd erupted in whispers.

"At this distance... can he hit?!"

"Is he just bragging?"

"I believe the story of the Ghost-Faced General shooting an arrow through a willow leaf from a hundred paces away and blinding Jieli, but this kind of legend..."

Before he could finish speaking, Han Ye's gaze sharpened.

"Bang!"

The golden-feathered arrow shot out, so fast that it tore through the air and emitted a piercing whistle!

In that instant, time seemed to stand still—everyone stared wide-eyed as the arrow shot out like lightning, drawing a dazzling golden line that pierced the sky!

"laugh!"

The cloth tore, and the arrow pierced the crack in the city wall bricks, its fletching still trembling and humming like a dragon's roar!

The entire room fell silent.

Immediately afterwards, an uproar erupted!

"Oh My God……"

"This isn't archery; this is sword control!"

"Uncle Cheng said it's hard to guarantee accuracy from a hundred paces away, how could this person nail something to a wall from two hundred paces away?!"

Even Crown Prince Li Chengqian stood frozen in place, his eyes filled with shock.

He was about to speak when he suddenly turned around—

What about people?

That aloof figure from just moments ago has vanished without a trace.

Only the bow lay silently on the ground, like the lingering shadow of a dream.

"Where is he?!" Li Chengqian roared, his face ashen, grabbing the imperial guard commander beside him. "Where did that person go?! Go after him! Now! Immediately!"

The imperial guards stammered, "Your Highness...the...the person is gone..."

"Useless!" Li Chengqian laughed angrily. "Such archery skills? Are they something a mortal could possess?! In the entire Tang Dynasty, apart from the Ghost-Faced General, who dares to claim they can take an enemy's head from a hundred paces away?!"

His fists clenched, his eyes burning with a fierce light: "This person must have a background! Search every inch of Chang'an, find him! I—I must know who he is!"

The group of noble sons behind him also lost their composure.

Cheng Chumo stared, speechless for a long time: "My father, who fought alongside Emperor Taizong, wouldn't dare claim to be able to hit a willow leaf from two hundred paces... This man's casual arrow is more accurate than my father's at his peak?!"

Fang Yi'ai murmured, "Unless... it's that person wearing the bronze demon mask..."

Qin Huaiyu stared at the golden arrow on the city wall, his voice trembling: "Don't you all feel... the power, angle, and momentum of this arrow... are exactly the same as the legendary arrow?"

Everyone was startled.

At this moment, Han Ye had already blended into the crowd in the market, walking indifferently without even a ripple on his clothes.

Little did he know that his casual attempt had stirred up a storm in the hearts of the most distinguished young men in Chang'an.

Little did he know that the young master to whom he casually took the bow and arrow was none other than the Crown Prince Li Chengqian.

At that moment, Li Chengqian stood below the city wall, gazing at the golden arrow deeply embedded in the wall, when suddenly he trembled, his eyes lighting up—

"etc……"

"His archery skills... his aura... and his nonchalant attitude when facing powerful soldiers..."

"Could it be...?"

He clenched his fist tightly, each word etched as if carved with a knife:

"He is... the Ghost-Faced General?!"

A storm rises in Chang'an; a single arrow astounds the world.

A sweeping search that engulfs the government and the public has quietly begun.

When the interest struck and my hands started itching, I saw them imitating me as I drew my bow and shot an arrow, so I simply drew my bow and shot an arrow—a casual act that turned out to be earth-shattering!