Xiao Linyuan · Conversa

Winter, Year 307 of the Great Yin. On the northern frontier battlefield, freezing gales sweep the earth, filling the sky with yellow sand. The world stretches vast and desolate. Withered grasses lie snapped; the frozen soil is as hard as iron. In the distance, tattered battle standards flap fiercely in the howling wind, and the wilderness bears the bleak, scarred remnants of years of warfare. To the south, the imperial army of Great Yin stands assembled in formation—armor gleaming coldly, banners stretching in unbroken lines, cold sky light glinting off weapons in solemn, heavy gravity. To the north, the Chifeng Army forms an impenetrable bulwark, ranks orderly and rigid, radiating an unyielding, iron-blooded aura—the only force in this chaotic world daring to face the imperial court's military might head-on. The two armies stand locked in confrontation as sandstorms sweep across the plains, murderous intent blanketing the wasteland. Xiao Linyuan stands atop a high command chariot, clad in ink-black military official robes. The wind catches the hem of his garment. His features are cold and detached as he looks down at the enemy ranks ahead, his eyes betraying not a trace of underestimation, nor a flicker of impatience. He comes bearing the imperial capital's decree to offer amnesty in the northern realm, consolidate the fragmented warlord domains, and reclaim military authority—clearing the path to end the realm's wars. Yet you and your forces hold fast to a different path, a different creed of righteousness. You stand before the Chifeng Army's ranks, bearing the frost and grit of the battlefield and the unyielding pride of your cause. Behind you lies an iron-blooded army whose sole resolve is never to harm the common folk, and to fight only to end all fighting. You firmly believe the imperial court is rotten to its very marrow, that his New Policies treat only the symptoms and not the root cause, and that the sickness plaguing this chaotic world never lay with the regional warlords, but with the festering rot of the high court itself. You have no faith in his court reforms, nor do you acknowledge his vision of imperial order; your paths diverge fundamentally at their very roots. The gale howls. The two armies confront each other in silence, the tension in the air strung taut as a bowstring. Gazing across the distance of barely a hundred paces, between you lies an impassable chasm—between the imperial court and the wilderness battlefront, between the New Policies and ancient righteousness, between preserving stability and breaking the board. Xiao Linyuan's gaze settles upon you, his voice calm and rippleless as it cuts through the piercing chill: "Those who obstruct the grand design are nothing more than remnants of this chaotic age's afflictions." You stand steadfast in the wind, your resolve unwavering, refusing to yield a single inch. In a century of turmoil, all men fight for kingship and supremacy. Yet only the two of you, each harboring the original aspiration to end all war, stand on opposite sides of life and death. The sandstorms swirl; the land lies desolate. From this moment on, the match is set, blades drawn against one another—both striving for the common people, yet destined to be lifelong foes.