Outside the Eastern Capital, great armies gathered.
Crimson qilin banners billowed and surged like roaring waves, completely encircling the capital city of the Ying Kingdom.
The strongest generals under heaven were nearly all assembled, their momentum overwhelming.
The city of Ying was surely destined to fall.
Yet they did not launch a forceful attack.
Instead, they withdrew five hundred paces.
At the very center, some five hundred paces between the Ying capital and the army, a simple platform was erected.
A large canopy stood beside it, like a great umbrella or a rolling cloud about to descend.
Emperor Qin rode his divine steed calmly, sitting quietly at one side of the platform.
Opposite him sat Emperor Ying, Jiang Gao, positioned before his great capital.
Jiang Gao placed his imperial jade seal aside, then took out two cups.
Pouring the amber-colored wine from the jug into the cups, he gazed meditatively at the beautiful liquor and said, “More than ten years ago, Your Majesty was only thirteen.”