My brothers are all warriors capable of taking on ten thousand men; I'll roam freely in the Thr

Luoyang, Nangong.

The setting sun, like blood, dyed the charred beams and pillars and the collapsed palace walls a bleak dark red.

The once magnificent Han Dynasty palaces are now just ruins. Scattered among the charred wood and rubble are broken jade ornaments and blackened bronze artifacts, silently telling the story of the sudden collapse of a four-hundred-year dynasty.

Yang Zaixing stood before the ruins, his spear gleaming coldly in the setting sun.

He gazed at the scene before him, remaining silent for a long time before finally sighing softly, "The four-hundred-year-old Han Dynasty, reduced to ashes overnight... Is this the turning of fate?"

His voice was very soft, and behind him were only Zhang Fei, Guan Yu, Zhou Yu, and dozens of Jingnan Army guards.

Sun Jian had already led his troops to search towards the ancestral temple and armory. The two groups of men split up and searched separately.

Guan Yu narrowed his phoenix eyes slightly, stroked his beard, and remained silent.

Zhang Fei swept his eyes across the ruins and spat, "That old traitor Dong Zhuo deserves to be torn to pieces!"

Zhou Yu, though only fourteen years old, was mature beyond his years. He remained calm and composed, saying, "Palaces may be burned down and the state may be destroyed, but the hearts of the people are the foundation of the world. If you, my lord, can bring back the emperor and restore order to the court after your westward journey to rescue him, the fate of the Han Dynasty may not be over."

Yang Zaixing glanced back at Zhou Yu, a complex expression flashing in his eyes.

What's the will of the people?

He recalled his elder brother Ji Xuanyuan's achievements over the years: fighting the northern barbarians, pacifying the Yellow Turbans in the east, building water conservancy projects, promoting agricultural tools, establishing hospitals, and recruiting poor scholars...

When the people of Youzhou mention "Lord Zhuo," who doesn't call him "the Upright Official"?

If this world truly is destined to change hands...

The master can only be the eldest brother!

He didn't say these words aloud, but only kept them to himself.

"Report!"

A sergeant from the Jingnan Army rushed over and knelt on one knee: "General! Something has been found in the well in the southwest corner of the South Palace!"

Everyone's spirits lifted.

A glint of light flashed in Zhou Yu's eyes: "Bring it here immediately!"

A moment later, two soldiers carried in a wooden box.

The box was made of ebony, about a foot square, and its surface was carved with cloud and thunder patterns. Although it had been soaked in well water, it had not rotted, which showed that it was an extraordinary item.

Zhou Yu took it personally and placed it on a remaining section of the stone steps.

He took a deep breath and slowly opened the box.

The box was lined with yellow silk, on which was placed an object, about four inches in diameter, with five dragons intertwined on the top button and a corner inlaid with gold. It was the Imperial Seal of the State!

As the setting sun shone on the jade seal, the eight seal characters "Received the Mandate of Heaven, May Your Life Be Long and Prosperous" seemed to be ignited, radiating a captivating luster.

Zhou Yu's breath hitched, and his hand holding the feather fan trembled slightly.

Even with his exceptional intelligence, he could not hide his shock upon seeing this treasure, which represented the authority of the world, with his own eyes.

"This...this is the Imperial Seal of the State?" Zhang Fei leaned closer, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Let me see!"

He reached out to take it.

"Fifth Brother!" Guan Yu called out in a low voice.

"This is a national treasure; it must not be touched lightly!"

Zhang Fei withdrew his hand, embarrassed, and said, "I...I was just taking a look..."

Zhou Yu had come to his senses and carefully picked up the imperial seal, examining it closely.

With its warm and lustrous jade texture, simple and elegant carving, and lifelike five-dragon knob, it is undoubtedly the Imperial Seal of the State recorded in historical books.

"My lord is truly a divine being," Zhou Yu murmured.

"They even foresaw that the imperial seal was hidden under the well in the Southern Palace!"

Yang Zaixing, however, was thinking much further ahead.

He stared at the jade seal, his eyes gleaming: "With this... does it mean that my elder brother is the chosen one? He can... he can... become emperor?"

By the mandate of Heaven, may your life be long and prosperous.

These eight characters are the proof of an emperor's authority and the sign of destiny.

Throughout history, how many heroes and great men have gone mad for this thing?

If my elder brother obtains this seal...

The atmosphere inside the tent suddenly became quiet.

Yang Zaixing's words were too straightforward and too sharp, like a knife that cut open the window paper in everyone's hearts that they dared not touch.

"General Yang, be careful what you say!" Zhou Yu quickly put the imperial seal back into the box, closed the lid, and wrapped it in layers of cloth.

"This is a national treasure, crucial to the stability of the state. My lord should have already rescued His Majesty by now. This seal should naturally be returned to His Majesty... um... until my lord returns, and then I will entrust it to him for his decision!"

He spoke tactfully, but his meaning was clear: the fate of the imperial seal was a decision only Ji Xuanyuan could make.

Before this, no one may make any unwarranted comments.

Yang Zaixing realized he had spoken out of turn and clasped his hands in a fist and said, "Sir, you are right. I was being presumptuous."

However, those words, like a fine thorn, have deeply pierced the hearts of everyone present.

Is destiny...or is it ours?

Meanwhile, near the armory.

Sun Jian stood amidst the ruins, his hand on his sword, the setting sun casting a long, imposing shadow of him.

Behind him stood four generals: Cheng Pu, Huang Gai, Han Dang, and Zu Mao, followed by his eldest son Sun Ce, his second son Sun Quan, and several hundred personal guards.

The core areas, such as the Southern Palace and Deyang Hall, had already been searched by the Jingnan Army. Sun Jian had no choice but to turn to the ancestral temple and armory, which had also been burned down, but perhaps some things were still missing.

Amidst the ruins, a pungent, burnt stench filled the air.

Blackened armor and broken weapons lay scattered on the ground, with occasional fragments of bamboo slips and charred silk scrolls—the remnants of the military equipment and classics of the Han Dynasty over four hundred years.

"My lord, I'm afraid we won't find much here," Huang Gai sighed.

"When Dong Zhuo moved the capital, all the valuables had already been taken away, and what remained..."

Before he could finish speaking, a gust of foul wind swept by, lifting half of the charred banner.

Beneath the flag, a corner of a broken bluestone slab is visible, with a faint light shining through its edge.

"Hmm?" Sun Jian frowned.

Huang Gai stepped forward and used his scabbard to clear away the broken tiles and loose soil.

Several guards worked together to pry open the stone slab.

The stone slab did not conceal a secret chamber, but rather a narrow stone niche, partially hidden by a collapsed wooden frame.

There was no glitter of gold, silver, or jewels, only a cool, frosty aura emanating from it.

Sun Jian waved his hand to dismiss the crowd and personally bent down to reach out his hand.

It was cold and heavy to the touch, neither wood nor iron.

With a forceful pull, he retrieved a sheathed ancient sword from the stone niche.

The sword is over three feet long, with a black scabbard covered in ancient cloud and thunder patterns. It is simple and unadorned, yet it exudes a profound and weighty aura.

Sun Jian gripped the sword hilt and applied slight pressure.

"Zzzzt—"

A clear, resonant sword cry rang out, like a dragon's roar echoing through the heavens!

The sword was drawn three inches from its sheath, and in an instant, a crimson light flowed, illuminating Sun Jian's face, which was covered in bristling hair and beard!

Two ancient seal script inscriptions are clearly visible on the spine of the sword.

"Crimson Sky!"

"This is..." Cheng Pu, who followed closely behind, gasped. The veteran general, who had been through many battles, even trembled slightly in his voice.

"The Crimson Heaven Sword used by Emperor Gaozu to slay the white serpent?! How could it be here?!"

Sun Jian drew his sword completely.

The sword itself is not dazzling, but it possesses a powerful aura that can suppress all directions.

As the light shifted, the faint phantom of a crimson dragon swirled around the sword, as if it were about to burst forth from the sword and soar straight to the heavens!

The moment he gripped the sword, an indescribable tremor spread from his palm throughout his body. It wasn't the ecstatic joy of obtaining a treasure, but a heavy responsibility that had weighed on his shoulders across four hundred years.

"Father!" Sun Ce stepped forward, his sixteen-year-old eyes burning with fervent light.

"This sword... could this sword truly be the sword of our ancestor?!"

He was fond of martial arts from a young age and was well-versed in history books, so he naturally knew the legend of "Chixiao" sword. Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Bang, used this sword to slay a white snake to start a rebellion, overthrow the tyrannical Qin Dynasty, and establish the Han Dynasty, which lasted for four hundred years!

Sun Jian did not answer, but gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, feeling the resonance that seemed to connect him to his blood.

Nine-year-old Sun Quan stood beside his elder brother, looking up at the ancient sword in his father's hand, his young face showing a thoughtful expression beyond his years.

He suddenly spoke, his voice clear and crisp: "Father, historical records state that the Crimson Sky Sword is the sword of the emperor, not to be wielded by a mere subject. Now this sword has appeared in the ruins of the armory. Is this auspicious or inauspicious?"

This question, asked with such maturity, drew the attention of the surrounding generals to the young second son.

Cheng Pu pondered, "The armory is a vital national site. Storing such a divine weapon might be to suppress the nation's fate. Dong Zhuo is now more tyrannical than Jie and Zhou. The appearance of the Crimson Cloud Sword... could it be a sign from Heaven, commanding our lord to emulate Emperor Gaozu, punish the tyrannical, and bring peace to the people?"

The four words "punish the tyrannical and pacify the people" struck Sun Jian's heart like a heavy hammer.

He recalled the various ulterior motives of the Guandong Allied Forces, Yuan Shao's hesitation, and the evasive and retreating faces of the warlords in their tents.

He recalled the cries of the people of Luoyang when Dong Zhuo fled west, and the despair of the gentry he saw along the way who had been coerced into joining him.

This sword, like a mirror, reflects his original intention of "punishing the rebels and supporting the Han" when he raised his army.

It also served as a wake-up call, striking at his growing confusion amidst the power struggles.

Sun Jian suddenly burst into laughter, casually strapping the Crimson Cloud Sword to his waist, replacing his original sword: "Just a sharp ancient sword, perfect for slaying traitors!"

He summoned his trusted confidants and placed the Crimson Sky Sword flat on a stone table that had been temporarily cleared.

His gaze swept over Cheng Pu, Huang Gai, and Han Dang, finally settling on his two sons.

"Bo Fu, Zhong Mou, come forward."

Sun Ce and Sun Quan stepped forward.

Sun Jian gently stroked the blade of the sword, his voice calm and firm: "This sword is not a divine weapon that a subject can possess privately. It belongs to Emperor Gao, to the righteous act of destroying the tyrannical Qin, and to the four words 'to punish the tyrannical and bring peace to the people.'"

He looked at Sun Ce: "Bo Fu, do you know the weight of this sword?"

Sun Ce raised his head: "I know! Whoever wields this sword should emulate Emperor Gaozu, wielding this three-foot sword to achieve unparalleled feats and save the people from suffering!"

"Alright!" Sun Jian nodded, then looked at Sun Quan.

"Zhongmou, what do you think?"

Sun Quan thought for a moment and slowly said, "A sword is a weapon of death, but the will of the wielder determines its fortune. Father, obtaining this sword is both the will of Heaven and a test. If you use this sword to fight for personal gain or seize power, then it will be ominous. If you use this sword to punish traitors and bring peace to the people, then it will be auspicious."

A look of satisfaction flashed in Sun Jian's eyes.

He rose, gripped his sword, and pointed it to the sky: "The evil of Dong Zhuo is evident to all! Yuan Shu and his ilk are each harboring their own ulterior motives, wasting resources and supplies. There is no use in us staying here! Once Luoyang is stable, we will march west, reorganize our troops, and this sword will be pointed at the traitor Dong Zhuo and all those who bring disaster to the country and its people!"

His voice, like the clang of metal on metal, echoed through the ruins: "Our achievements should be won on the battlefield, not by relying on inanimate objects. The Crimson Sky Sword is a spur, not an auspicious omen. It reminds me that Sun Wentai raised an army to punish the tyrannical and bring peace to the people, not to carve out his own territory and become a warlord!"

The generals stood solemnly, clasped their fists in unison, and said, "We are willing to follow our lord!"

That night, under the stars and moon.

Sun Jian stood outside the independent camp, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword at his waist.

The Crimson Sky Sword remained silent, yet it seemed to resonate with the fierce spirit of the "Jiangdong Tiger" in his bloodline.

Sun Ce practiced his halberd not far away, the wind whistling through the air, and the same flame burning in the young man's eyes as his father.

Sun Quan sat on the ruins, gazing at the starry sky, lost in thought.

Amidst the scorched earth of Luoyang, Sun Jian took a deep breath.

His goal was no longer the vague "to occupy Jiangdong and observe the world," but the clear "to emulate Emperor Gaozu and establish a new dynasty with the sword."

This road may be more difficult, but...

He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, his eyes like the crimson sky within its sheath—restrained yet already harboring the sharpness to cleave through the era.