In less than two days, scouts from the front returned with news.
Yu Wenye stood on the pass, gazing at the Sishui River stretching from south to north, its gentle ripples stirred by the breeze. It seemed to be a rare river flowing northward in the Central Plains, gentle yet full of stubborn defiance against fate, flowing into the Yellow River and then unleashing a turbulent surge.
The muddy waves lashed the shore, the murky Yellow River waters staining vast tracts of land along the bank, even touching the grassland across the river with a faint dry yellow hue.
Autumn has arrived.
Although they had just captured the gateway to Luoyang, now Luoyang City was being jointly attacked by his own troops and those of King Qi. The situation seemed under control, yet Yu Wenye inexplicably felt a hint of desolation. But this was fleeting, as the earthy autumn wind blowing in quickly swept away such feelings, leaving an autumnal chill settled in his heart.
