"A dragon roars in the vast sandstorm, and a sword is fiercely pointed at the border. The iron-blooded heroic spirit should still be there, and the heroic spirit is still strong and majestic!"
General Wang Xiaojie stood on the top of Youzhou City, facing the northern border ravaged by sandstorms, and recalled his years of fighting with the Turks, and could not help but recite aloud.
"The general has great spirit and writes great poems!" exclaimed Chief Secretary Wu Wendeng.
"Alas, I am also inspired by this. The northern border is restless, the Turks are constantly harassing us, coveting our Great Zhou territory. If we don't defeat them completely, I'm afraid our descendants will have to endure more wars!" Wang Xiaojie said with emotion. The diffused sand blew across his face, which was full of scars from the years, making him look even more vicissitudes.
"Yes! General Wang, look, the sandstorm is about to dissipate!"
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