If Qian State was the sacred land to which scholars aspired, then Yan State, Beifeng Prefecture, and the residence of the Earl of North Border were places virtually all warriors had dreamed of.
Roaming the wilderness on horseback, battling fierce barbarian tribes beneath the solitary smoke of vast deserts—this was an indelible fantasy in the hearts of red-blooded men.
This was, in fact, a kind of cultural osmosis, much like with Angda, who now knelt on the ground.
In his heart, and even in the heart of the King of the wild people, there was a shared dream of black armor and black flags.
They couldn't erase that memory, because those days, those experiences, had been seared into their lives, impossible to sever.
Zheng Fan had once heard something from the blind man, something the blind man had heard from Wenter, the Western Region merchant in Tuman City.
