Fang Yingying's small mouth opened slightly, just about to speak up to persuade her, but was pulled by Xia Yajun's hand and suddenly stopped.

  A faint cry... The sound was soft, but everyone heard it clearly.

  Lin Mu stepped forward with big strides, he walked to Lin Ye Xing's front, heavily knelt down and said: "I wish to follow Master Xu to the Northern Border."

  His right sleeve was torn off, and at this moment it was grasped in his brother's hand. Just now he had used force to struggle free, Lin Jia Hui did not notice for a moment, but left behind a piece of cuff.

  Lin Jiahui looked at his younger brother with a face full of awkwardness, and the sleeve on his hand was particularly eye-catching.

  "You... you idiot." Lin Yixing angrily said: "Do you think this makes you a hero? That's Jiang Kongming's desperate plan!"

  In his rage, he directly called out his name. Fortunately, he was very cautious about Xu Haifeng and did not scold him loudly.

  "The child knows." Lin Muhe said loudly.

  "Do you know?" Lin Yixing almost didn't dare to believe his ears, and the anger in his chest dissipated by half. He asked in surprise: "Since you knew, why were you so impatient."

  Lin Mu knelt on the ground, raised his head, and his eyes were clear and firm: "I know, son, but the Xiongnu are our great Han's enemy, so I have to go fight them."

  Silent.

  At this moment, the hall was quiet to an extreme degree.

  All that was left were the clear and audible sounds of sniffles and gasps in the hall, which rose and fell like a heavy steel hammer pounding on everyone's heart.

  The Xiongnu are enemies of our great Han, so son must go and fight them.

  Lin Muhe's words were plain and unadorned, as if they came from instinctual choices, as if they were a matter of course, but they were powerful and shocking.

  The Xiongnu are enemies of our great Han, so son must go and fight them.

  These simple and unadorned words, this plain sentence, is a nation's most pure and primitive cry from the heart.

  At some point, Xu Haifeng and others had already stood up from their chairs. Even the crowd that hadn't risen when Zhang Jin arrived now automatically got to their feet. Their gaze towards Lin Muhai was distinctly different.

  The young man kneeling on the ground was a southerner and not robust. At this time, he had shrunk by half and was completely unremarkable. But at this moment, he seemed incredibly tall.

  Stand tall and be a good man.

  Lin Jiahui's gaze focused on the short but straight figure on the ground, his hand trembling, and that piece of almost weightless half sleeve seemed as heavy as Mount Tai at this moment.

  His eyes were complex, looking at his younger brother with a mixture of admiration, estrangement and relief. He seemed like a wandering soul lost at the crossroads of life, finally deciding on the path forward.

  He suddenly stepped forward, knelt beside Lin Muhe's body, and kowtowed three times: "Disciple is willing to go."

  His voice was calm but left no room for doubt.

  "Disciple wishes to go..."

  The disciples in the hall all knelt down, even those who were injured and crippled endured the pain and knelt on the ground.

  Looking at the scene in front of him, Xu Haifeng's eyes became slightly moist.

  Those who are righteous and chivalrous often slaughter dogs. Those who are treacherous and unfaithful are often scholars.

  No matter the changes of the times or the replacement of dynasties, in the midst of turmoil, those who can always write out magnificent and tragic events are often those rough and unpolished, bold and straightforward hot-blooded men.

  Patriotism, these two sacred words, can be embellished by the noble-born sons of high-ranking officials to be beautiful and magnificent, can be proclaimed to be earth-shaking and heaven-stirring, can be written to be eternal and immortal.

  What about those pugilists? Some of them don't even know how to write these two characters.

  However, when the Xiongnu attacked the capital and invaded the Central Plains, how many young men from aristocratic families chose to do the same as Emperor Xiaohuan of Han and the three great family masters?

  What righteousness is worth dying for?

  After the Xiongnu people were promised not to be killed after surrendering, the northern Great Han was like a domino, one by one, and the villages and towns all raised their flags of surrender.

  However, at this time, a surge of resistance was quietly rising among the people. Their leaders were not aristocratic sons, nor were they court officials, but rather those who were seen by some as the root of chaos in the world - the rivers and lakes people.

  There is a simple and natural patriotic idea that has melted into the blood, bones and soul of these rough men.

  Patriotism, why patriotism? They will tell you with their actions that loving one's country needs no reason.

  Lin Muhe's face was full of sincerity, his voice not loud, yet piercing through the layers of defense, directly touching that beating heart: "Child, no regrets."

  His lips trembled violently, Lin Yixing's rationality told him to refuse, but his teeth chattered uncontrollably and he couldn't utter a single "no".

  After a moment, he turned his head towards Zhang Jinzhong, with thick apology in his eyes.

  "Brother, forgive me. I am still a man of the rivers and lakes."

  Xī xiàn, zài yíng zhàng zhōng ā bù suǒ lún bàn yǐ bàn kào zài cháng cháng de hòu diàn zhī shàng, zài tā de miàn qián shì chū chǎn yú wò lóng chéng de jīng zhì bái jiǔ.

  This bewitching man with a strong feminine aura surprisingly loves such strong liquor.

  "Your Highness, a letter has arrived from Duke Abel of Marl." A servant carefully approached him and reported in a low voice.

  Absolem stretched out his long fingers, took the document from the tray held by the servant's hands, and his eyes swept over it. The originally scattered gaze that seemed to have no focus suddenly solidified.

  His lips were slightly open in surprise, and his beautiful big eyes stared tightly at the thin document, as if he wanted to see through these few words to understand the meaning behind them.

  After a moment, his eyes gradually became stern, and the cold smile at the corner of his mouth also grew thicker.

  The servant bowed his head tightly, his eyes fixed on the tips of his toes, not daring to look around casually. Because he knew that the few servants before him had silently disappeared from this world because they saw things they shouldn't have seen.

  "Bankcroft..." The name that rang out in the Caesar Empire was repeated in a whisper from Absolem's mouth.

  "Go get Atuso for me."

  "Yes... Your Highness."

  A moment later, the majestic Artuso strode in, giving Absolem a military salute that even he seemed dissatisfied with.

  He came from a military family, originally law-abiding and disciplined, but after being with this lazy prince for a long time, he unknowingly picked up some of his slackness. This change accumulated day by day, and even he himself did not realize it.

  "Your Highness."

  "Ah...... dear General Artuso, you've arrived. Please take a seat." As if he had just noticed the arrival of the commander, Absolem smiled and greeted him.

  As Artuso sat down and took the beautiful wine handed over by the servant, Absolem said lightly and absent-mindedly: "The commander of the Bancroft army has arrived."

  "Gulp...!" A mouthful of liquor had gone down his windpipe and Artuso began coughing violently.

  Absolem watched the general's disheveled appearance with great interest, his eyes filled with suppressed laughter, but he repeatedly said: "Ah, General, are you okay? God, how did this happen?"

  Arthur's angry gaze stared at this perfect, flawless face filled with innocent expressions. Having interacted with him for so long, if he still didn't know that he was doing it on purpose, then he would be really stupid.

  "Can't you leave this man alone?" Attuso's teeth ached with rage, though even he didn't know whether the anger was directed at Bancroft or Absolem.

  "Oh, why is that? Isn't he also a legion commander of my Caeser Empire like you?" Absolem's beautiful big eyes had an overtly flirtatious glint.

  Forcing down his anger, as a qualified soldier, Artuso was normally a calm and self-aware person. However, since three years ago, when his troops were assigned to this Absolem who had not even a bit of prince-like demeanor or self-awareness by Caesar the Great, his temper had started to become violent. Fortunately, the only thing worth celebrating was that he could still maintain his usual composure when facing others.

  "Your Highness, don't you know better than to ask such a thing? I have no common language with that madman."

  "Is he mad?" Absolem's words were heavy with meaning: "The madman in your eyes is the priceless treasure of His Holiness and the Grand Duke."

  Bancroft, a devout follower of the Vatican, came from one of Caesar's oldest families and commanded the illustrious Fourth Legion, expanding the borders for both Caesar and the Vatican with unshakeable achievements. If judged solely on military merit, even Abelmar, Duke of the First Counselor and most trusted advisor under Caesar, would have to yield three points.

  But this Fourth Legion was also infamous at the same time as it was renowned under Caesar.

  Bunker Hill would plunder every city he conquered, not leaving a single blade of grass intact. His character was extremely eccentric, being rough and violent, vengeful and prone to killing people at the slightest provocation.

  Of course, one-third of the property he plundered would be contributed to the Vatican, one-third would be handed over to Caesar, and the remaining one-third would be distributed among his soldiers, thus winning the loyalty and support of the troops.

  The Fourth Legion was probably not one of Caesar's eight strongest legions, but it must have had its number among the three.

  His behavior brought great difficulties to the imperial rule later on. However, he was extremely favored in front of His Holiness the Pope and Caesar the Great, and he fought under the banner of plundering heretics, so he had always been unbridled and unrestrained.

  "How could His Highness the Grand Duke have given such an order? And we are to retreat thirty miles, and let that madman take all the credit?" Artuso said indignantly.

  "Merit? Then it depends on whether he has this life to take it."

  Absole's face wore a faint, carefree smile, as if nothing had ever weighed on his mind. Yet, in Artuso's eyes, a sudden chill arose from within.

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