One general's success is built on the bones of thousands of people. Behind the portraits of meritorious officials hanging high in the Qilin Pavilion of the Golden Terrace, there are flickering flames and countless dead souls wailing.
Adrian Fu sighed: "What a sin."
Duan Guihong was so angry that he almost fell backwards. He said angrily: "When two armies confront each other, it's either you or me. You feel sorry for them, but why don't you think about the innocent people who died in vain at the hands of the Tartars! With such a soft heart, what great things can you achieve in the future!"
"Oh?" Adrian Fu said in a slow and steady voice, "I will protect my country and I will not offend anyone unless they offend me. Isn't that enough? What big deal is the prince talking about?"
"You!" Duan Guihong was speechless for a moment, and after pointing at his nose, he cursed: "The bow is put away after the bird is dead. The emperor wishes you would die at Qingsha Pass, and you still want to defend the territory for him? Even if you defend a place and establish yourself as a king, it is better than being bullied by him. Do you understand?!"
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