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Time flies, in the blink of an eye, thirteen years have passed.
Chu Capital, Baling.
On the spacious imperial road outside the city, a procession slowly made its way towards Baling.
Passersby on both sides of the road, seeing this, promptly made way and paused to watch.
As inhabitants living beneath the imperial city, these passersby were naturally not without discernment, ordinary processions would not easily catch their attention, but this one was indeed different.
Based merely on appearance, the members of this procession, each with hair hanging loose or braided, donned in exquisite furs, resembled nomadic barbarians—or perhaps those of noble status—though it was unclear whether they were from the Snowy Wilderness or the northern steppes.
In the midst of the procession, there were also dozens of Chu soldiers clad in fine armor, escorting on both sides, led by an official in a red robe at the forefront, marching the barbarians towards Baling.
