His steps were steady, neither hurried nor slow.
Wherever he went, people made way for him, and countless eyes fell on him—curious, awe-inspiring, grateful, and skeptical.
Upon reaching the high platform, Zhao Muyun turned around to face 100,000 soldiers and civilians.
The sunlight fell perfectly on him, and his white clothes shimmered with a faint golden glow in the morning light.
For a moment, everyone felt as if this was not a general from the mortal realm, but a god descended from heaven.
"Fellow villagers," Zhao Muyun began, his voice not loud, but carried clearly by his inner strength, "it has been three years. Since Li Jingang rebelled and seized the capital, wreaking havoc on the world, it has been a full three years."
The square was silent except for the sound of the wind.
"In the past three years, war has raged across the land, and people have been displaced." Zhao Muyun's gaze swept across the audience. "I know that some of you have lost loved ones, some have lost their homes, and some have suffered greatly in this chaotic world."
A low sob could be heard from the crowd.
"But today," Zhao Muyun raised his voice, "all of this is over!"
He opened his arms as if to embrace the city: "Li Jingang has been captured, and Fengchao has been destroyed! From this day forward, the capital will return to the Great Yin Dynasty, and the world will return to peace!"
"Peace has returned...peace has truly returned..." an old man murmured, tears streaming down his face.
"General! General!" Someone shouted first, and then a thunderous roar echoed through the sky: "General! General!"
The sound was like a tidal wave, shaking the dust off the palace walls.
Zhao Muyun raised her hand, and the shouts gradually subsided.
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