A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

Wei Zhao led his army on a rapid advance.

The warhorses were changed three times, but the riders remained the same.

The armor was scorching hot in the sun, and sweat soaked through the lining, only to be dried by the wind. Over and over again, a layer of white salt stains formed on the collar.

It's still half a day's journey to Jiangnan County.

Scouts ahead reported that the official road was clear and most of the garrison along the way had been routed. The vanguard of the Southern Barbarians had not yet reached the city of Jiangnan, but they would have to wait at most two or three more days.

Wei Zhao gripped the reins, calculating in his mind—half a day is enough.

As long as they can occupy Jiangnan County before the Southern Barbarian elephant cavalry, the defensive line can be established.

Just then, the scout in front suddenly reined in his horse and turned around.

"Report! There's a stage on the main road ahead!"

Wei Zhao was taken aback.

A stage?

Why would you build a stage on this desolate road, where there's no village or shop in sight?

He spurred his horse forward, bypassing the vanguard, his gaze passing over the swirling dust—

It really is a stage.

It was made of wooden planks, not very big, with four pillars supporting a red cloth roof.

Two red lanterns hung on the stage. They were lit during the day, but the candlelight was almost invisible in the sunlight, and the red color was particularly dazzling.

There was a person sitting on the stage.

The bright red dress, from the neckline to the hem, was like a ball of fire.

The woman sat upright in a chair in the center of the stage, her hands folded on her knees, her posture relaxed, as if she were sunbathing in her own yard.

The thunderous sound of 100,000 cavalrymen's iron hooves rolled over from afar, dust filled the sky, and murderous intent soared to the heavens.

She sat there, motionless.

Wei Zhao frowned slightly.

This woman is quite bold. With 100,000 cavalrymen passing by, she sits alone in the middle of the road, unafraid of being trampled into a pulp by the horses' hooves.

He raised his hand, and the entire army slowed down.

The cavalry's speed changed from galloping to jogging, then from jogging to shuffling, and finally came to a stop.

The panting of 100,000 warhorses and the clanging of armor echoed along the official road.

Wei Zhao spurred his horse forward, and the white horse stopped three steps away from the stage.

He looked up.

The woman was looking at him too.

Their eyes met, and the woman in the red dress smiled.

It's not a polite, courteous laugh; it's a laugh that carries a touch of charm, a hint of composure, and a hint of understanding.

The curve of his lips was just right, not too much, not too little, as if he had practiced it a thousand times.

Then she stood up.

The movements were slow, almost deliberate, as the hem of the red dress slid off the chair, unfolding layer by layer.

The water sleeves peeked out from the cuffs.

She spoke.

"In my drunken stupor, I pick up a lamp to examine my sword—"

The operatic style, though not loud, has an extremely strong penetrating power, like a silver needle piercing the ear.

Wei Zhao paused for a moment on the reins.

That sound...

"Dreaming of bugles echoing through the camps—"

Her figure moved, not walking, but floating.

Her toes lightly touched the wooden board, her water sleeves fluttered, her red skirt twirled, and she looked like a red leaf being swept up by the wind.

Wei Zhao narrowed his eyes.

He recognized him.

Flowers can speak, Sixth Sister-in-law.

That woman who came from a brothel, was redeemed by Sixth Brother Wei Mou, and became his legal wife.

He had seen her once at the funeral hall. Her heavy makeup couldn't hide the dark circles under her eyes, but she stood up straight and didn't shed a single tear.

Later, she took over Sixth Brother's intelligence network, with her people spreading throughout the north and south of Wei. The news of the fall of Jianmen Pass was delivered by her people.

But he never expected to see her here.

I never expected her to appear in this way—alone, on a stage, in a red dress, performing in front of an army of 100,000.

What's going on in this woman's head?

Wei Zhao did not urge him or order a detour. He sat on his horse, his white wax spear resting against his arm, watching quietly.

The cavalry behind them also fell silent.

"Eight hundred miles of roasted meat are distributed among the troops, and fifty strings of music resound beyond the border—"

Hua Jieyu's voice suddenly rose, and she flung her water sleeves out, drawing a sharp arc in the air.

It was no longer a graceful dance; it carried a murderous aura.

Her red dress billowed, her steps shifted from light and graceful to steady and deliberate, each step on the wooden plank carrying weight.

The opera singing style has also changed.

From gentle to desolate, from desolate to passionate, a woman singing opera, without a single weapon on her body, sang with the momentum of a thousand troops.

"Autumn review of troops on the battlefield!"

When this sentence was uttered, Hua Jieyu waved her water sleeves in mid-air, and the red silk looked like a battle flag in the sunlight.

Wei Zhao got goosebumps on his back.

It's not cold.

He secretly glanced behind him.

One hundred thousand cavalrymen, clad in iron armor, stared intently at the woman in the red dress on the stage.

Some people are moving their lips and silently repeating along.

Some people gripped the reins so tightly that their knuckles turned white.

Some veterans had red eyes and were trying their best to hold back their tears.

Breaking the Formation.

This poem was written for soldiers, for those who, drunk, would light lamps to examine their swords, for those who would die on the battlefield, and for those who risked their lives to guard the homes of others.

Hua Jieyu chose this poem to bid farewell.

She doesn't know how to fight, ride a horse, or handle knives and guns.

But she knew how to put a ball of fire into someone else's chest.

"Having accomplished the affairs of the king and the realm, one wins fame both before and after death—"

Hua Jieyu's voice reached its highest point. Her red dress, flowing sleeves, and long hair fluttered in the wind. Her face, painted with rouge, showed no signs of worldliness, only a resolute beauty.

Then the sound faded away.

"Poor thing, his white hair has grown."

The last five words were as light as a sigh.

Her flowing sleeves cascaded down. Her red skirt settled. Hua Jieyu stood in the center of the stage, slightly out of breath.

The official road was quiet for several breaths.

The only sounds were the wind and the occasional snorting of warhorses.

Hua Jieyu tidied the stray hairs at her temples, bowed respectfully to the audience, and bent over at an angle that was neither humble nor arrogant.

"I am a woman named Hua Jieyu, but I am not skilled in martial arts or military strategy."

She straightened up, her gaze sweeping across Wei Zhao's face before landing on the 100,000 armored soldiers behind him.

"The task of protecting our country can only be entrusted to you all."

Her voice was still hoarse from singing, but she enunciated each word clearly.

"A simple dance to express my feelings."

She bent over again, this time even more deeply.

May all heroes return in triumph.

Triumphant return.

The words spoken by a woman from a brothel carried a weight heavier than any grand military ceremony, for some reason.

Wei Zhao dismounted.

He clasped his hands in front of the stage and bowed deeply. It was not a gesture of respect from superior to inferior, but a heartfelt respect between peers.

Behind me—

With a "whoosh".

One hundred thousand cavalrymen simultaneously dismounted, the clanging of their armor creating a continuous sound. One after another, they clasped their fists and bowed to the woman in the red dress on the stage.

Looking towards the south of the Yangtze River, my heart was filled with fighting spirit!

passionate!

As Wei Zhao mounted his horse and prepared to depart, he caught a glimpse of Hua Jieyu out of the corner of his eye.

Next to the makeshift stage, there was an inconspicuous blue-covered carriage.

Two mules, a small carriage, with the curtains drawn tightly shut.

Hua Jieyu stepped down from the stage, her red dress trailing on the ground, covered in dust, but she didn't care. She lifted the hem of her dress and walked towards the carriage.

Walking to the side of the carriage shaft, she turned around and beckoned to Wei Zhao with her finger.