Brothers, Drink The Liquor Of The Warpath! . . .
Zuo Wu-Ji pursed his lips and exited the main hall, a tinge of embarrassment coloring his expression. He was keenly aware of his need to be submissive in this situation. He understood that these men were all on the brink of heading into war, and any interference or provocation from him could easily result in a beating or worse. In the midst of their battle preparations, they had little tolerance for his status as the young lord of the House of the Minister.
Normally, they might show him some respect due to his position, but in the current warlike atmosphere, he had become insignificant to them, even worse than a mere nuisance. These battle-hardened warriors feared nothing at this moment.
Suddenly, a long and resounding clarion call pierced the night sky, plunging everything into immediate silence. It was as if the world was holding its breath. In an instant, thousands of clarions echoed loudly and harmoniously, shaking the very foundations of the surroundings. The weighty war drums joined in, setting a rhythm that felt as though the god of thunder himself had descended, leaving everyone's hearts pounding with anticipation.
Amidst this powerful symphony of war, Prince Hua-Yang's distinctive and resonant voice carried on the wind, spreading through the night. His words electrified the atmosphere, "Tonight, with my brothers, we will drink the liquor of the warpath together!"
A hushed silence enveloped all the camps, but every man's face suddenly flushed with excitement. The liquor of the warpath was a drink for warriors, a symbol of life and death on the battlefield, a testament to their willingness, trust in one another, and their commitment to their homeland.
The voice of Prince Hua-Yang reverberated through the night sky, making even the stars appear to tremble in its wake. Hundreds of thousands of warriors stood tall, their eyes gleaming with a fierce determination. The same words echoed in every heart present – "Liquor of the warpath."
That was the essence of it all.
"Liquor of the warpath!" Prince Hua-Yang shouted once more, and the response from the hundreds of thousands of warriors erupted into a deafening roar that shattered the silence of the night.
As the soldiers roared in unison, proclaiming their shared desire for victory, the entire capital was engulfed in a cloud of dust stirred by their thunderous cheers. Cha-Eun Xiao couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the fervor surrounding him. It was a spectacle of grandeur, a testament to the spirit of men who were ready to face the brutality of war.
For Cha-Eun Xiao, this was more than just a ceremony; it was a profound display of unity and determination. It was a celebration of men who had shed their civilian identities to embrace their roles as soldiers. The very essence of their being was encapsulated in this moment.
Prince Hua-Yang's commanding voice rang out once more, rallying his troops, "Today, we drink up the liquor of the warpath!"
The soldiers responded with unwavering determination, "We march forward and never look back!"
With each call and response, the sense of camaraderie grew stronger. Prince Hua-Yang's voice resonated through the night, "The day when we come back with victory!"
The soldiers echoed in unison, "We drink the liquor at the victory banquet!"
"GOOD!" Prince Hua-Yang exclaimed. "Brothers! Raise your cup! Let's drink them up! For the blood we will shed together!"
Around the palace, every soldier lifted their drink simultaneously and emptied it in a spirited toast. Faces flushed with excitement, and their blood ran hot.
"My drink is bottom-up! You?" Prince Hua-Yang stood up and shouted.
"We have drunk up!" The soldiers shouted back.
"Drink your fills!" Prince Hua-Yang encouraged them.
And then, he declared with conviction, "Men should drink up their liquor of the warpath. Men should sever the enemies' heads on the battlefield. Men should meet their end with a smile while fighting. Live or die, men should never let the drink down."
The atmosphere in the Palace of Hua-Yang had transformed into a blazing inferno. Prince Hua-Yang's charisma had ignited a fire within his men, a fire that burned with unyielding loyalty and unwavering determination.
Cha-Eun Xiao couldn't help but be in awe of Prince Hua-Yang's leadership. He realized that the title "War God of The Kingdom" was not bestowed lightly; it was earned through deeds and actions. Just the way Prince Hua-Yang had rallied his troops was a testament to his extraordinary leadership.
In that moment, Cha-Eun Xiao had the utmost respect for Prince Hua-Yang. He understood that leading these fervent warriors into battle would be an awe-inspiring sight, a merciless force to be reckoned with. With such a great general and a formidable army, victory seemed inevitable.
Amidst the resounding cheers and jubilation, Prince Hua-Yang walked to a table in the main hall. His expression was resolute, his gaze sharp as he assessed the faces of every general present.
"Brothers!" He raised his drink high.
"Great general!" They stood as one, echoing, "Success and glory!"
"Thank you, my brothers! I hope that we will return victorious and glorious, just as you have wished. We will show no mercy as we slaughter every enemy in our path!" Prince Hua-Yang declared, downing his drink.
"Prince the mighty!" They shouted in unison, their voices nearly shattering the roof.
Prince Hua-Yang laughed heartily and took his seat, infusing the atmosphere with life and energy. The main hall erupted into a frenzy of celebration, as warriors reveled in the camaraderie and brotherhood that would carry them through the trials of war.
The liquor flowed freely, and the soldiers embraced the night with an unshakable resolve to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
The aroma of liquor permeated the air, filling the room with its heady scent. It was a testament to the unreserved nature of these men, laid bare in the presence of camaraderie and impending war.
Amidst the raucous laughter and shouts, nearly twenty empty liquor buckets lay shattered on the floor. Food, meticulously prepared but now ignored, sat untouched, while each man had already drained four bowls of liquor. The less adept drinkers surreptitiously employed their martial arts skills beneath the table, attempting to steady themselves.
For those who reveled in their love of drink, bowls of liquor were held aloft, and cheers rang out. The gathering, once characterized by solemnity and discipline, had transformed into a lively and boisterous affair.
These soldiers were not blind to the dire situation in the south. The adversary that had rendered the Southern General powerless was undoubtedly formidable. As they prepared to face the unknown, the specter of death loomed large in their thoughts.
No one could guarantee their survival in the impending battle. Many among them might never return. Accepting this grim reality, they chose to revel in their last gathering, their last chance to bond as brothers.
Unspoken but universally understood, their collective sentiment was clear: "Even if we do not return, we have shared a heartfelt drink with our brothers today. We will drink until we can drink no more, even if it means we'll vomit. This is our final revelry."
The room echoed with their joyful cacophony, resembling a bustling marketplace, yet fine liquors abounded.
...
"Hey, Qiao! Get over here! You owe me, man. You dislocated my shoulder last time. Down that drink, and we'll call it even!"
"Even? My foot! You kicked me in the groin, remember? I spent two weeks clutching my crotch in agony. You nearly made my wife a widow, you scoundrel! I'm the one who was generous enough not to hold a grudge!"
...
"Hey, Song Lao-Qi! You rascal! You swiped my gold during that gambling match... Let me tell you, I don't give a damn now. Don't avoid me! By the way, did you win or lose?"
"Nonsense... I never took your gold! I merely borrowed a couple of your jades last time. It took me ages to gather the courage to do it, and, unfortunately, those two turned out to be worthless junk. I nearly lost everything that night. Blame it on the bad luck your lousy jades brought me."
"What?! You absolute numskull! It was you! You devious rat! You took my jades! I wondered how they vanished so suddenly! You better return them to me..."
"Hey there! You just said you don't care anymore. A gentleman's word... I can't possibly return them to you, not even if you beat me to a pulp. Those two wretched jades are long gone..."
...
"Zhao Lao-Da! You scoundrel! I'm going to unleash a torrent of curses upon you!"
"Go ahead! Cursing me won't kill me. Once you're done, our score is settled. You get that?"
...
"Tan Shi-Yi! You despicable wretch! You beat me mercilessly, and I languished in bed for ages just because you wanted my position! You even brought a gang to take me on! Listen well, either your gang faces mine, or my gang faces you..."
In the midst of the rowdy gathering, two figures engaged in a spirited exchange of words, their voices filled with a blend of camaraderie and playful aggression.
"Humph! You? What kind of fine gentlemen do you think you can muster? Probably just a motley crew of ne'er-do-wells. Count yourself lucky I've been stationed far away from your sorry lot... Otherwise, I'd have no qualms about teaching you a lesson and turning you into a cripple! All you've got is a foul mouth, after all. I'll take what's rightfully mine!"
The retort was swift, laced with defiance, "Screw you!"
"Screw you and your entire clan!"
A challenge hung in the air, daring the other to back up their words, "Oh, really? Well then, let's see what you're made of! We'll drink until one of us keels over and taps out!"
"Do you honestly think I'm afraid? You'll be the one retching your guts out!"