"Brothers of Dingzhou, we are the Imperial Guard from the Capital City, here in Dingzhou by His Majesty the King's command, escorting the King of Beiyang to issue a royal decree to Master Zheng Gongxuan," a somewhat slick-looking man quickly rode forward, speaking in a gentle voice.
A black stallion surged out from the opposing army. A rather ugly man burst into loud laughter, "So you're the Imperial Guard, huh? This is what the Imperial Guard looks like."
His words were brazen and disrespectful, but the Imperial Guard, acting under orders, dared not move.
"Well then, since you are here to issue a decree to our lord uncle, go ahead, but according to Young Master Ming's orders, please hand over your weapons," he said.
For an army, their weapons are their lifeblood; an army stripped of its weapons is no longer an army.
