World is rich and colorful.

In vast places, time surges like a raging tide, generation after generation is born, grows, and ages, and civilizations manifest in countless forms. Dynasties sweep across the land, and nations rise and fall. The lives and deaths of tens of millions of people are condensed into a mere punctuation mark in the history books.

In small places, however, each individual's life is an epic poem. In every second of this world, thousands upon thousands of people live seemingly insignificant lives, yet their thoughts and emotions are equally real and immense. Some laugh with joy, some weep with sorrow, some rage hysterically, and some grieve silently... These emotions are like hurricanes and tsunamis, driving their ordinary bodies forward in an ordinary way.

Every second in this world, captured from different perspectives and angles, could be a grand and authentic narrative poem. Countless people's fates intertwine, causes and effects interwoven, colliding and then separating. A broken thread often leads to strange outcomes in unknown distant places. These interwoven threads are mostly chaotic yet uniform, but at certain moments, we see countless, massive threads converging and colliding in a certain direction.

In the first year of Wu Zhending, on the 23rd of April, the setting sun outside Hanzhong City looked as if it had absorbed the taste of gunpowder, revealing a ghastly gray-black color in the clouds. The sunset was not magnificent, merely its ordinary appearance, repeated countless times in this world.

As he brought the city under this setting sun into view, his army was rapidly gathering forward. Xi Yin rode on his warhorse, the wind rustling the fluttering banners, mingled with the sound of voices. The massive battlefield began to transition from chaos to order, the air filled with the smell of horse manure and vomit.

The atmosphere of the battlefield was becoming familiar to him, as always. Decades of war, countless reviews of troops on the battlefield, and the forest of swords and spears, the soldiers' breathing exuded a solemn and tenacious aura. This was a war formation that Wanyan Xi Yin felt both familiar and yet increasingly alien.

The speed of the soldiers' assembly and the spirit emanating from the ranks allowed Xi Yin to quickly understand the quality of the army before him. The Jurchen army had matured and become terrifying under his command. For forty years, after developing such spirit, this army had never encountered an equal opponent. But as the war progressed, he gradually experienced the feelings of many years ago:

At that time, the Jurchen warriors entered the battlefield with a "live for today, no tomorrow" mentality. They were fierce and intense, but on the battlefield, they could not yet achieve the level of control they had today. Aguda, Zong Han, Lou Shi, Zong Wang, and others acted hysterically and went all out on the battlefield. Every war was a crucial battle. They knew that the fate of the Jurchen lay ahead, but they, who were not yet mature at the time, could not clearly understand the direction of fate. They could only do their best and leave the rest to the supreme gods.

They learned in battle and gradually matured. They also saw the direction of fate more and more clearly. In the later stages of the war to destroy the Liao, they became increasingly skilled in using their army. Fate was firmly grasped in their hands—they had seen the whole picture of the world clearly. Xi Yin and others, who once admired Han learning and respected the Wu Dynasty, gradually saw the advantages and disadvantages of Confucianism. There were certainly respectable things in it, but on the battlefield, the Wu Dynasty was powerless to resist the general trend of the world.

As time passed, the veterans had matured in the flames of war, and the army still maintained its sharp edge. However, in the recent battles, Xi Yin seemed to see the traces of fate running wild again. He could certainly do his best, but unknown things stood in the way. He had a faint premonition that he could not grasp the outcome of things.

Only one thing was certain: the battle before him would once again become the most crucial one. The fate of the Jurchen lay ahead!

"...The Huaxia Army's position is five miles ahead...near Reed Gate... Grand Marshal's army is coming from the west, and now in the city..."

The army advanced slowly after disembarking. The Jurchen general Cha La, summoned from within the city, followed Xi Yin, reporting the battle situation of the past few days as thoroughly as possible. Xi Yin's eyes were cold, and he listened quietly.

Almost as soon as he learned that the battle west of Hanzhong had begun, Xi Yin decisively abandoned the siege of Qi Xinhan's three thousand troops near Xicheng County and led more than ten thousand troops quickly onto ships, sailing west along the Han River. He understood that before this great battle that would determine the future of the Jurchen, encircling a mere three thousand men was not so important.

The moment he disembarked, he sent for the highest-ranking general in Hanzhong City to understand the development of the situation. But the whole situation was beyond his expectations. Zong Han led ninety thousand men and was almost beaten into a miserable state by the charge of twenty thousand men. Although Zong Han's tactics looked imposing, Xi Yin understood that if he had the confidence to win on the main battlefield, Zong Han would not have used this time-consuming and energy-consuming attrition tactic.

The two had fought side by side for nearly their entire lives. He could understand that Zong Han was such a heroic and wise man, and if there was a real chance to charge forward, he would not retreat. In other words, to force Zong Han, who had fought on the battlefield for more than forty years, to this point, the Huaxia Army's combat power was evident.

At the Jialing River, Pu Cha was killed, and in the chaotic battle, almost all the middle and lower-level generals under his command, such as the Meng'an Mouke, were beheaded.

That night, with less than ten thousand men, he attacked Zong Han's camp. After falling into a trap, he forcibly broke free and even killed the pursuers, leaving them in utter fear.

In four days, with barely twenty thousand men, he confronted Zong Han's attrition tactics. In the end, it was Zong Han's troops that showed signs of defeat. Some of the defeated soldiers gathered towards Hanzhong, and the enemy was actually able to seize Hanzhong's South Gate with a mere few hundred men. What an astonishing desire to attack and decision-making ability in small-scale battles!

"...How did they do it?"

As the warhorse moved forward, Xi Yin finally spoke.

"...Huh?"

"You came from the battlefield. You should have some thoughts about your enemy. What do you think...how did they do it?"

"...This, this humble officer doesn't know... The Huaxia Army is brave and fierce. I heard that they...are all those who retreated from the Northwest back then, and they have deep hatred for our Jurchen. I think that the Devil of the Mind bewitched them with sorcery, making them fearless..."

"..." Xi Yin did not look at him or speak. After a while, he asked, "How much iron cannon and ammunition is left in the city?"

"This humble officer...can only give a rough estimate..."

"Wanyan Yuchi." Xi Yin did not wait for a report and called out the name of his disciple directly.

A middle-aged general in his forties came over: "This subordinate is here."

"Three things, go and do them for me."

"Yes."

"First, take a thousand men into the city, assist the city's officers and soldiers, and strengthen the defenses of Hanzhong. The Huaxia Army is attacking north from Reed Gate. Arrange manpower to guard all passages and walls. If any city gate falls again, you will be punished the same as Cha La."

"Yes."

"Second, count all the cannons, ammunition, bows, arrows, and warhorses in the city. Except for the manpower needed to defend Hanzhong, I want you to organize manpower to transport the supplies to the battlefield outside the city before sunrise tomorrow. If there are not enough men, come here to ask for them."

"Yes."

"Third..." Xi Yin paused on his warhorse, but then his eyes swept across the pale sky and earth, and he resolutely said: "Third, if there is enough manpower, gather the residents and civilians in Hanzhong City and drive them towards the Huaxia Army's position at Reed Gate in the south. If they resist, you can kill people and burn houses. Tomorrow morning, cooperate with the decisive battle outside the city and charge the Huaxia Army's position. Handle this matter well."

On the warhorse, Wanyan Yuchi received the order: "Yes." His eyes shifted with some hesitation, but he soon accepted the fact. After Grand Marshal Zong Han exhausted the Huaxia Army with ninety thousand troops for four days, Xi Yin made the decision to fight head-on. This decisive decision was perhaps in response to the news that the Huaxia Army leader, known as the Devil of the Mind, had broken through Jianmen Pass.

—If they dragged on for a few more days, and that Devil of the Mind arrived, things would be even more lively and troublesome.

The two took their orders and left.

Ahead, the city walls stretched out. In the setting sun, the black flag of the Huaxia Army came into view. The ground outside the city walls was speckled with blood stains and corpses, indicating the fierce battle that had broken out here not long ago. At this moment, the Huaxia Army's line of defense was shrinking. At the end facing the Jin army, Huaxia Army soldiers were digging in the ground. Most of the figures were stained with blood from the fighting, and some were wrapped in bandages.

Facing Wanyan Xi Yin's banner, most of them glanced over here. Looking through binoculars, the posture of those figures showed no fear, only a calmness to welcome battle.

There were more than ten million people in this world who had a blood feud with the Jurchen. But there had never been a team that could face the Jin army in such a state.

They had already been fighting for four days, even breaking up the army led by Zong Han.

How did they do it?

Did they still have the strength?

Xi Yin thought about all of this in his mind.

For decades, they had walked the battlefield, absorbing experiences and learning lessons, taking everything in this world into their eyes and hearts. Every war and survival made them stronger. At this moment, Xi Yin would recall the smoke of countless battlefields. Aguda had passed away, Wugumai was dying, Zong Wang, Lou Shi, Ci Bushi, Yin Shuke, Ba Lisu... one general after another had passed from their lives, but at this moment, Zong Han and even Xi Yin were truly at their strongest state on the battlefield.

Time had passed for decades, and at this moment, he could still only do his best and leave the unknown fate to the supreme gods.

***************

The walls of Hanzhong were not magnificent or towering either, just an ordinary earthen stone wall. The wilderness outside the city walls was a patchwork of green and yellow, and the soldiers' clothing was mainly earth-colored, with touches of blue-green. The bloody smell was, as always, unpleasant.

Liu Muxia arrived outside Hanzhong City in the evening. After arriving with his company, he was assigned to a position with his company members. Someone pointed to the east and told everyone: "Wanyan Xi Yin is here. If a fight breaks out, you'd better dig some horse traps in front."

"Is digging horse traps enough?" The squad leader asked the company commander for instructions.

"You are responsible for digging pits tonight, conserve your strength, and pay attention to rest. Whether you can sleep depends on what the opposite side wants."

Fatigue and pain were gathering in his body, but within tolerable limits. When his comrades talked about the Fifth Army breaking through Jianmen Pass, Liu Muxia looked up at the Jin soldiers' traces in the east. Even as an ordinary soldier in the Huaxia Seventh Army, he knew that the decisive battle was coming.

So after dinner, he quietly began to dig pits.

He was not afraid of Wanyan Zonghan, nor was he afraid of Wanyan Xi Yin.

He was from the Northwest. The living environment in the Northwest has always been rough, and therefore, he had lived in a world full of murderers, bandits, and swindlers since he was a child.

His family died early. He did not have much emotion for his family, and similar situations were never rare in the Northwest. After the Huaxia Army came to the Northwest and won the first battle against the Western Xia, he went to Xiaocang River and joined the Black Flag Army, which was considered by the outside world to be extremely vicious, "to make a living."

The inside of the Huaxia Army was a completely different environment from what the outside world had guessed. He did not know when he had been assimilated, perhaps on the second day after joining the Black Flag, when he collapsed from the fierce and excessive training, and the squad leader brought him that bowl of noodles late at night.

Or perhaps it was at the moment when they cooperated with each other in patrols and training.

Or perhaps it was at the moment when his comrades, who had brought him noodles and supported his back in training, sacrificed themselves in the three years of fighting in Xiaocang, which he had never expected.

"...I was originally...from Bianliang. My family was in a village by the Yellow River. I had a wife, a daughter, and old people at home... When the Jurchen came...everything was gone..."

He could occasionally recall the beautiful Central Plains that his comrades had told him about.

He was not actually touched. For the first ten years of his life, he had lived in the chaotic and precarious Northwest frontier. His family had died, and he did not know why he should cry. Was there really such a beautiful thing as the Central Plains in the world? He did not know.

He just liked living in Xiaocang River. They fought side by side in the valley, repelling waves of supposedly vicious enemies on the dam. They cheered together, and their survival had a warm core. These people, who had once had strange and different lives, became his comrades and family.

They were all dead.

He would recall the three years of fighting in Xiaocang River, and what Ning Yi often said to people when bidding farewell to the dead during that time.

"...In this world, millions and millions of people have died. Before they died, they all had their own lives. What makes me most sad is...their lives will be forgotten like this... The people here today, they resisted, they wanted to live like human beings, they died, their resistance, their lives will be forgotten, the things they did, the things they remembered, will disappear from this world, as if...they never existed..."

As if they had never existed...

Liu Muxia therefore often thought of the village by the Yellow River outside Bianliang City, the old people in his comrade's family, his wife and daughter. His comrade had also died, and those memories were as if they had never happened. Including the bowl of noodles that the squad leader brought him, including their side-by-side battles. These things would one day be as if they had never happened...

He felt pain and fatigue, but it did not matter, he could endure it. He silently dug the horse traps.

The sun was gradually setting. The sun set like this every day. On the second day he joined the Black Flag Army, he failed to complete the training subjects before sunset. The squad leader forced him to run forward in such darkness. He told himself in his heart that he could not turn against him, and could wait until tomorrow to steal something and leave... That night he went to bed hungry, and the squad leader brought him a bowl of noodles, and the noodles even had a delicious egg in it.

That was Xiaocang River many years ago. The valley had not even been completely built, and they sometimes had to level the ground on the playground. The dam was being built step by step. And today's Xiaocang River was a barren mountain. The traces of their existence had been erased.

The squad leader swung that knife at the Jurchen.

And the Jurchen did not even know about this.

…

This was not right.

************

Night was gradually falling. The stars were sparse, and the moon rose in the sky, like a knife, splitting the sky by the Han River.

On the plains west of Hanzhong, the sound of cannons rang densely at some point, and the soldiers' fighting and charging were reflected in the firelight.

The Jurchen troops and Huaxia Army troops rushing towards Hanzhong City were interspersing and fighting all over the place in the darkness.

A large number of Jurchen troops were scattered aimlessly on the wilderness, and Huaxia Army troops were also in fierce battles in the darkness.

The fighting of millions of people, tens of thousands of people, had tens of thousands of lives and stories.

On April 21, Wanyan Sabaha once led his cavalry in a desperate charge towards the Huaxia Army. He was lucky enough to escape after being injured, and at this moment, he was leading his troops towards Hanzhong. He was a nephew of Wanyan Zonghan and had followed Zonghan in battle for thirty years. Compared to Yin Shuke and Ba Lisu, although he was inferior in talent, he had always been a faithful executor of Zonghan's plans.

The Jurchen had finally fought their way out of such a difficult living environment. He fought alongside heroes, and at this moment, he was willing to die for heroes.

Zonghan had joined up with Gao Qingyi and others, and was trying to mobilize a large army to gather towards Hanzhong. After decades of fighting on the battlefield, he could clearly feel that the strength of the entire army was rapidly declining after the previous battle. In the process of spreading from the plains to Hanzhong, some of the re-assembled troops quickly collapsed under the Huaxia Army's interspersion. That night, only Xi Yin's arrival gave him some comfort.

After four days of fighting, his troops were exhausted, and the Huaxia Army was also exhausted. But in this way, Xi Yin, who was waiting for work, would gain the most ideal opportunity.

Ba Lisu was dead, but Ning Yi could not come over yet.

That night, looking at the moonlight in the sky, Zong Han poured the liquor he carried with him onto the ground, mourning Ba Lisu.

This long life of fighting, how many people died on the road...

That night, a large number of troops were risking their lives, fighting forward on the road. Wanyan Sheyema was trying to invigorate and encourage the morale in the darkness. This increasingly mature Icefield Wolf did not want to miss the battle that was about to take place under Hanzhong City.

His whole life had been longing for heroes like his fathers. It was not until the death of his brother that he gradually understood the qualities needed to become such a hero. At this moment, the Huaxia Army's strength made him stunned, and also made him truly feel excited. If there were no such enemies, how could his name be recorded in history?

Some people's stories will leave traces in history, but for life, these stories are not superior or inferior.

The Jurchen warriors who had fought alongside the Jin generals for more than twenty years would think of their wives and children in their hometown under the moonlit light. The Khitans, Liaodong people, and Xirens who followed the Jin army south, wanting to seek fame and fortune in the last southern expedition, felt fear and helplessness in their exhaustion. With the mentality of seeking wealth and danger, they followed the army south and fought bravely, but at this moment, the Southwest became an embarrassing quagmire. The gold and silver they had plundered could not be taken back. The joy of slaughtering and looting had turned into regret. They also had memories to miss, and even family to care for and warm memories—who wouldn't?

But many Central Plains people and Northwest people no longer had family, and even their memories were beginning to become less warm.

That night, another Huaxia Army troop after another arrived outside Reed Gate in Hanzhong City. They had already experienced successive battles, and the soldiers mostly had injuries, some light and some heavy, but the defeat of the Jurchen would give people endless strength. Some troops even made attempts to attack the city walls to the west or north, of course, they were not easily successful.

The troops arriving at the Hanzhong battlefield were arranged by the staff to rest temporarily, and a small number of troops were interspersing northward in the city, trying to break through the blockade of the streets and attack more critical positions in Hanzhong City.

After nightfall, Chen Hai entered the staff and asked the brigade commander Hou Lietang for instructions: "The Jurchen troops are all northerners. Wanyan Xi Yin has arrived at the battlefield, but he is not attacking. I think it is not that he doesn't want to, but that he can't. It is currently the flood season, and they are sailing north, there must be wind and waves, and many of them are seasick, so they can only start operations tomorrow... I don't think we can let them sleep well tonight, I ask for a night raid."

"We also considered the seasickness, but do you think a person like Xi Yin would not guard against you sneaking up in the middle of the night?"

"Then we can't let them sleep well, I can let the three battalions under my command take turns to fight, make a big show, in short, don't let them sleep."

"...There is a point, Commander Qin went to check the night, I will report to him later, you be prepared."

"Yes." Chen Hai saluted.

Walking out of the simple staff, the moon seemed to be falling from the sky. Chen Hai did not smile, his eyes were full of the wind and snow that had started more than ten years ago. More than ten years ago, he was still young, and Mr. Ning once wanted him to become a storyteller.

"The continuation of civilization is not based on blood."

"When the Jurchen came, many people died, and many entire families were gone. Zheng Yiquan's bloodline did not remain, but when he died, you were next to him, so you passed it on... Try to pass on the story..."

That day, Mr. Ning said this to him, who was still young, but in fact, over the years, how many people had died beside him, not just Zheng Yiquan? And today, he had a better and more powerful way to pass on their will.

In this world, there are special moments when tens of thousands of threads will gather towards one person, and that person will become thin, will become important. Some threads will break, and some threads will be carried by bystanders and continue to move forward. The continuation of blood, the replacement of nations, the rise and fall of countries, all things compete and kill, it has always been like this.

Liu Muxia finished digging the horse traps and silently polished his knife.

Someone counted the fire thunder and hand grenades, and passed them over.

Chen Hai took a battalion of soldiers and quietly left from one side of the camp.

The sentry posts were replaced.

Some people had time to rest, they lay down fully clothed, ready to fight.

"I can't sleep..."

Someone spoke softly.

"Let me tell you, I still remember the Central Plains more than ten years ago..."

The Central Plains more than ten years ago... From that moment on, how many people cried, how many people shouted, how many people moved forward in blood in heart-rending pain, and finally got to this point...

Everyone's story is very ordinary, and one person's death seems so insignificant among the deaths of millions of people. But whose life and memories are not an epic full of ups and downs?

Flames and torment had been colliding violently under the ground for many years, and countless, huge lines converged at this moment.

The magma was erupting—

…

Chen Hai launched a night raid and fought with the Jurchen's scout ambush on the banks of the Han River, with shouts of killing shaking the sky, in wave after wave.

The Jurchen warriors in the camp were occasionally awakened by the sound, and anger and anxiety were gathering.

Late at night, Xi Yin walked onto the city wall. The defending general of the city was reporting to him the continuous fires on the plains to the west. The Huaxia Army troops were interspersing from northwest to southeast, and Zong Han's troops were going from west to east, with fighting constantly in one place after another. And not only the plains to the west, but also the small-scale fighting in Hanzhong City had never stopped. That is to say, fighting was taking place in every place he could or could not see.

Xi Yin supported the city wall and pondered for a long time.

"...Don't they need to sleep?"

He sighed softly.

The Huaxia Army they were facing was only twenty thousand people.