And so, it was June once again.
The fierce battle of Chang'an, the change of hands in Guanzhong, it's been over a year.
In this year, intimidated by the might of "Heavenly King Wu," the fires of war subsided in all directions, and the various warlords quieted down.
After all, no one wanted to become the next unfortunate soul after the Li Family, to be assaulted a thousand miles by the Martial Guardian army, to have their domain trampled by flying cavalry.
Everyone tried to keep a low profile, not daring to make any rash moves.
In this chaotic world, there was, at last, a rare moment of tranquility.
...
The mighty Yangtze River flows east, washing away the heroes of ages past.
By the old stronghold to the west, people say: it's the Red Cliff of the Three Kingdoms' Zhou Yu.
Rocks jut out of the river, waves crash against the shore, rolling up layers of white froth like snow.
The landscape is picturesque, a scene of many heroes of its own era.
