Chapter 1693: Shangxie Promotional Video

The sound of the guqin rang out, and the camera jumped in from the boundless night sky.

The stars are sparse and the moon is bright. The camera sweeps across the brightly lit pleasure boats on the river, the wide and bustling streets, and finally winds its way into the luxurious and quiet palace city like a snake.

Along the way, it passed countless palaces, some bustling and some quiet, and finally sank from the treetops into the red-painted, white-paper windows.

The hall was dark, the faint light from the window casting a dim shadow.

There was a man sitting on the ground in the shadow, with his back against a large and majestic screen depicting mountains and rivers, but his figure was lazy and decadent, just like any playboy indulging in a singing and dancing house.

The camera silently brushed across the corner of his bright red robe embroidered with golden dragons, and entwined with his fingertips resting on his knees.

The fingertips were in the faint light and shadow, holding a jar of wine in an extremely casual posture, revealing a very cold drunkenness.

The camera was pointed upwards, but the dim light only illuminated his smooth and exquisite jawline, and his face could not be seen clearly.

He was half-submerged in the dim shadows, like a decadent yet extremely moving rose petal growing in the night.

The sound of the guqin fell silent for a while.

His voice, like a whisper, could be heard in the darkness.

"I can't die here,"

He tilted his head back and took a sip of wine. The crystal liquid slid down the corners of his lips to his chin, and finally dripped down like cold tears.

His Adam's apple moved, he swallowed the wine, and repeated it in a low voice,

"I can't die here."

The low, clear, and naturally cool voice disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The camera suddenly captures large numbers of armored soldiers walking through the streets late at night amidst the sudden and tense drumbeats.

They held torches, their expressions gloomy as they hid in the shadows, their footsteps moving in unison through the deserted streets late at night, like a hundred ghosts parading at night, making one's backs numb.

A leisurely male voice sounded from somewhere.

"Jinliang is about to rise in arms, and the Wuxu War is about to return. Who is the god of war we need most at this time? Of course, it's the emperor who pacified Gumo and repelled the nomads."

"So, if you can't bring the emperor back in one piece, there's no need for you to come back alive."

The male voice was mature and naturally had a superior tone.

Soldiers in black armor lined up and went deep into every street and alley, quickly disappearing into the night like water flowing into a river.

The tense drum beats suddenly disappeared, and when the sky gradually became clear, only the clear and lingering piano music remained in the background music.

Following the sound of the piano, the camera leaped into the clear sky, winding for thousands of miles, and finally saw the vast undulating forest waves.

There is a mountain top above the forest waves.

There are remnants of a tomb on the top of the mountain.

On the broad stone platform where the snow had not yet melted, someone was dancing with a sword.

She was dressed in a fluttering white robe, her black hair was like a waterfall, and as she spun and leaped, the sword light was like snow, stirring up a strong wind on the flat ground. Large pieces of fallen leaves flew up along with her sword blade, and gradually danced into a soaring and winding dragon.

As the snow shone, a pair of dark eyes were clearly reflected on the sword blade.

Like the clearest and warmest mirror of time, it reflects the sword with a sense of carelessness and sharpness.

Finally, she sheathed her sword, and when she heard a noise coming from the bottom of the mountain, she stopped and turned to look.

Someone was walking slowly along the winding mountain road.

With her black hair fluttering behind her, the girl held her sword and leaned against a tree trunk on the top of the mountain, waiting nonchalantly.

The camera turns to the foot of the mountain, bringing the artistic conception of "all the mountains seem small at a glance" into the audience's sight.

When the wind rose and then fell, the traveler was already in sight.