This director is vindictive.

Chapter 497 The Last Echo of Anxi: The Anxi Army of the Tang Dynasty Will Never Retreat!

The premiere ceremony has concluded, and the film screening has officially begun!
As the lights dimmed and the big screen lit up at the premiere of "The Great Tang Dynasty in the Northern Desert".

The film opens with a close-up of a rusted bronze medal amidst the sandstorms of the Western Regions, creating a stark contrast with the actions of the elderly people in the first row who are caressing their medals!

The story of "The Great Tang Dynasty in the Northern Desert" is not particularly novel; it is simply an expansion of the original version.

However, what the audience is actually asking for is not a novel plot, after all, history is there for all to see.

It's impossible to make things up.

Chen Mo simply made the transformation of the deserter more layered and distinct.

At first, this deserter only wanted to collect his pay and go home, having no interest in fighting. But later, the sacrifice of the veterans deeply moved him. Along the way, he witnessed firsthand the suffering of the people on this trade route—they were not subjects of the Tang Dynasty, yet they all longed for the glorious Tang era. What they yearned for was not the rule of the Tang Dynasty, but the peace and prosperity it brought.

This unfolding of the story not only showcases the weight of history but also profoundly celebrates the preciousness of peace. The Anxi Army soldiers stationed on the frontier were unaware of the dynastic change, yet they steadfastly upheld their mission.

Many people were surprised to find that this plot development, in the same way, celebrated the hard-won peace from a historical perspective.

It praises the Tang Dynasty's Anxi Army, who were stationed on the frontier for many years and were unaware of the change of dynasties.

In fact, isn't this also a tribute to the soldiers who defend the country's territory?

The veterans sitting in the front row watched with exceptional focus. The Anxi army on the screen seemed to be themselves—across a thousand years, yet their spirit remained unchanged.

As the dazzling lights of Chang'an during the Tang Dynasty and the endless yellow sands of the Western Regions flashed alternately on the screen, the veterans in the first row unconsciously straightened their hunched backs.

Their wrinkled hands unconsciously stroked the medals on their chests, their cloudy eyes reflecting the clash of swords and the thunder of war on the silver screen—a reflection of their own youth.

A veteran wearing reading glasses suddenly raised his hand and wiped his face; the shoulder of his comrade's uniform was already soaked with tears.

However, a movie is still a movie, and Chen Mo still gave the final battle of the Tang Dynasty's Anxi Army the most intense color.

It's also the climax of the entire movie!

Shortly after the deserters arrived in Kucha.

Finally, the final battle has arrived.

In the scene, Guo Xin, with his white hair, stands on the city wall, looking at the dense Tibetan army outside the city with worry in his eyes.

On the city wall stood a group of veterans with gray hair, just like him.

"Prince".

The deputy general walked up to Guo Xin, clasped his hands in greeting, and said, "Tibet has sent another envoy to persuade us to surrender."

Guo Xin's voice was a little hoarse: "Same as always, just cut it."

The lieutenant grinned and pulled a severed head from behind his back: "It's already been chopped off."

Guo Xin nodded, remained silent for a moment, and then asked, "Has the imperial court sent any news?"

"No." The lieutenant's expression darkened. "Your Highness, has His Majesty abandoned us?"

A hint of melancholy flashed in Guo Xin's eyes as he asked in a deep voice, "Has there been any news from Chang'an?"

The lieutenant shook his head sadly: "Your Highness, has His Majesty forgotten Anxi?"

Guo Xin's eyes narrowed: "Don't talk nonsense! Just three years ago, His Majesty promoted the soldiers seven ranks in a row."

He gazed at the distant walls of Kucha, his voice lowering: "Beiting has fallen; now, of the four garrisons of Anxi, only Kucha remains."

"Of the twenty thousand men who went to war with the Prince back then," the lieutenant's voice choked with emotion, "there are now less than a thousand left."

He suddenly became excited: "I followed the Prince at the end of the second year of Yongtai, and it has been a full forty-two years since I became the Left General of the Martial Guard!" His calloused hands gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, his knuckles turning white.

The premiere was completely silent, except for the occasional sobs.

The story continues on the big screen, but at this moment, the audience has already guessed the ending.

But no one wanted to look away, even knowing the ending; they still stared intently at the big screen.

"Your Highness!"

The lieutenant's trembling fingers traced the weathered faces atop the city wall, those once robust figures now hunched over in the setting sun: "Brothers, we don't seek titles or honors, we only long to see the willows of Chang'an one last time!"

Guo Xin's armor gleamed coldly in the twilight. He slowly removed his helmet, revealing his equally graying sideburns. The veterans on the city wall straightened their backs in unison—just as they had forty years ago when they first arrived in the Western Regions.

"then."

Guo Xin's voice was like that of a poplar tree worn down by the desert winds and sand: "It was me who led everyone to leave behind this."

The lieutenant suddenly grabbed the crenellations of the city wall, his rough palms bleeding: "We are not afraid of dying on the battlefield! But has the court truly forgotten that Anxi still bears the banner of the Tang Dynasty?"

He suddenly ripped open his armor, revealing a horizontal scar across his chest: "Forty-two years! This scar has come more often than imperial edicts!"

"Your Majesty has his own reasons."

Guo Xin's hoarse voice sounded particularly heavy in the wind and sand: "But as long as we are alive, this land will forever belong to the Tang Dynasty!"

"Woo—" The desolate sound of horns tore through the silence of the Gobi Desert, and the Kucha army pressed down on the city walls like a dark cloud.

"Report! The enemy has begun their attack on the city!" The hoarse shouts of the lookout echoed from the city walls.

Guo Xin gazed at the enemy army stretching across the mountains outside the city—20,000 elite soldiers against less than a thousand defenders within the city, most of whom were white-haired veterans. He gripped his sword hilt tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"This battle may be our last."

He turned to face his soldiers, his voice suddenly rising: "If anyone wants to live, it's not too late to lay down your armor and leave now!"

The lieutenant suddenly burst into laughter, his white beard fluttering in the wind: "General, you jest! We old bones are practically half-buried in the ground, what are we afraid of?"

He pounded his breastplate and shouted: "Men of the Great Tang, there are only ghosts who die in battle, no soldiers who flee for their lives!"

A chorus of roars erupted from the city walls as veterans raised their worn weapons. The setting sun cast long shadows of them, like the heroic spirits of the Anxi army, which never retreated a thousand years ago, overlapping with these white-haired border guards across time and space.

"Your Highness, let's lead our brothers in another battle!"

One of the soldiers shouted, "Being trapped in the city and beaten by these bastards is so frustrating!"

"Yes, Your Highness!"

Someone else shouted, "Our soldiers of the Great Tang Dynasty will die on the road to victory!"

Guo Xin's eyes suddenly became bloodshot, and a surge of scalding heat rushed from his chest to the top of his head. The veins on his hand holding the knife bulged and his knuckles turned white.

"Alright!" he roared hoarsely, his voice seeming to be forced out of his chest, "Then let's fight another battle!"

The city gate creaked open slowly, the heavy scraping of the hinges shattering the deathly silence of the battlefield. Outside the city, the Tibetan soldiers' previously disdainful gazes froze instantly—

What emerged from behind the city gate was not the strong and sturdy Tang cavalry, but a group of white-haired veterans!

Their armor was rusty and some were even incomplete, but the blood-red Tang Dynasty military flags fluttered above their heads like a burning fire.

Guo Xin abruptly drew his Tang sword from his waist, its blade gleaming coldly in the sunlight. He pointed the tip of the sword diagonally forward and roared, "Where is the Great Tang Anxi Army?!"

"Yes!! Yes!! Yes!!!"

Nearly a thousand veterans roared in unison. Their voices were hoarse, aged, and even a little cracked, but every word seemed to be squeezed out from between their bones, carrying a fierce determination to fight to the death.

The Tibetan soldiers' formation stirred slightly, and some instinctively took a half step back—they had never seen such an army before, a group of white-haired old men, yet more ferocious than the most savage beasts!
"Follow me—to kill the enemy!!!"

At Guo Xin's command, he was the first to rush out. His figure was no longer agile, but every step he took shook the earth.

Behind him, the white-haired veterans pounced on the enemy like wolves and tigers. The glint of their blades reflected on their wrinkled faces, but could not extinguish the burning killing intent in their eyes!
The battle lasted only a little over an hour, yet less than a thousand veteran Tang soldiers killed nearly two thousand Tibetan soldiers.

But of these thousand white-haired veterans, only a handful remain, and all of them are wounded!

Guo Xin and his men were covered in blood and surrounded by a group of Tibetan soldiers. The Tibetan general in charge looked at the seriously wounded Guo Xin and said coldly, "Prince Wuwei, surrender."

His blood-stained blade gleamed coldly in the setting sun: "Anxi Army—form ranks!"

The veterans roared in unison and quickly formed their final battle formation. Their white hair fluttered in the wind, and although their bodies were hunched, their backs remained as straight as pine trees.

Guo Xin raised his long sword high and shouted hoarsely, "The Great Tang Anxi Army—fight to the death!"

The veterans roared as they charged towards the enemy, swords flashing and blood splattering, white hair dancing with the yellow sand. They fell one after another, yet not one of them retreated even a step.

Finally, Guo Xin stood alone on the battlefield strewn with corpses, his body covered in blood, his long sword broken. He gazed eastward, as if seeing the prosperous city of Chang'an before him, a faint smile appearing on his lips, and slowly collapsed…

As the sun set, the city of Kucha fell completely. The sandstorm swept through, burying the bodies of the white-haired veterans, but it could not conceal the final vow they had etched with their lives—the Anxi Army of the Tang Dynasty, never to retreat!

At the premiere, sobs could be heard everywhere.

That figure, that white-haired figure, fell down.

Subtitles appear on the screen:

In the winter of the third year of the Yuanhe era of the Tang Dynasty, the city of Kucha was occupied by the Tibetan Empire, the Tang Anxi Army was completely annihilated, and the Tang Dynasty completely lost control over the Western Regions.

The city is filled with white-haired people, yet they die without abandoning their swords. They fought alone for fifty years; how could they forget the Tang Dynasty?
A lone city stands ten thousand miles away, filled with white-haired soldiers. Born Han, they die Tang soldiers.

The moment the screen went dark, the theater fell into a brief silence.

When the poignant end credits rolled, no one applauded.

All the veterans stood up in unison, facing the screen and saluting. The sound of their medals clanging was more deafening than any applause.

The flashbulbs finally went off like crazy, but this time the cameras weren't focused on the gorgeous clothes and beautiful faces, but rather on the medals and white hair, and the sand and starlight that had crossed a thousand years.

Like a sudden gust of wind sweeping across the desert, applause erupted from the back rows. Young audience members spontaneously rose to their feet, and several college-aged men in the back, their eyes red with tears, shouted, "Salute!"

The veterans in the front row remained ramrod straight, their salutes held high, with only the reflection of the screen revealing the glistening tears in their murky eyes.

At this moment, everyone's eyes were red.

Some spirits will not be extinguished even after a thousand years; they will only continue to be passed down.

(End of this chapter)