Outside Changshan City, at the Ten-Mile Pavilion.
The cold wind rustled, sending withered yellow leaves swirling.
A dozen or so magnificent horses stood solemnly, their iron-shod hooves lightly pawing at the ground as they snorted clouds of white mist. At their head was Chen Sheng, clad in a fitted, jet-black martial uniform and a dark cloak.
He sat atop his divine warhorse, his posture as straight and tall as a pine tree, his gaze calm as he looked toward the official road in the distance.
Behind him, his core group of trusted elites—Li Huai Sheng, Xu Shenzhi, Yan Ming, and others—were all present. Each man wore a solemn expression, their weapons hanging from their saddles, exuding an aura of fierce competence.
The transfer order from the Jingwu Bureau had arrived abruptly. It had only come yesterday, strictly commanding him to depart immediately without delay. Chen Sheng knew that an official order was as immovable as a mountain, so he dared not tarry for even a moment.
