Chapter 128: To the Divine Gate We Go, the Han Banner Points to the Sky!

"I… I haven't finished speaking…"

Ling Xi saw the fleeting oddity on Su Ming's face.

For some reason, he was no longer as frightened as before.

This man…

Perhaps he is not entirely cold‑blooded.

At least, when hearing these ancient laments…

She could sense the subtle fluctuations in his emotions!

"There's one final fragment."

Ling Xi's voice was as light as the wind, fearing to disturb something.

"I don't know how to describe it…"

"It has no image."

"Only a hoarse, weary sigh, filled with endless remorse…"

Ling Xi closed her eyes and strained to imitate the sound she had heard then.

"Zhao Zilong… Zhao Zilong…"

"It is my fault…"

Boom!

Those few words spanned millennia, bearing endless desolation and sorrow!

Zhao Zilong!

Changshan Zhao Zilong!

The white horse with a silver spear who entered and exited Changban seven times, rescuing Ah Dou amid ten thousand troops!

The ever‑brave, never‑defeated, ever‑victorious general!

And that voice…

The one who called himself "Gu"…

Besides the late Emperor Liu Bei of Han, who else could there be?!

The Battle of Yiling!

Liu Bei, avenging Guan Yu's death, marshaled the entire nation's strength to attack Wu.

Their camps were set ablaze by Lu Xun for seven hundred li, nearly wiping out Shu Han's elite and severely draining their vitality.

From then on, they completely lost the capital needed to vie for the throne of the world.

At that time, Unique stepped forward to die counsel, urging him not to attack Wu…

It was Zhao Yun, Zhao Zilong!

But Liu Bei did not listen.

In the end, White Emperor City was left orphaned, and the hero died with lingering resentment.

That line "Zhao Zilong, Gu's fault!"!

It was his final words to Zhao Yun before death!

It is the greatest regret of this chaotic‑era warlord's life!

"So…"

Su Ming narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Ban", is Liu Chan's surrender letter, the grievance of a hundred thousand Shu soldiers!

"Prison", is Chancellor Zhuge Liang's Eight Formation Diagram, the plight of the ancient Sage of Strategy!

"Gate", is Guan Yu and Zhang Fei's blood tears, the Saint of War, the wrath of a foe to ten thousand men!

And this final one…

…is the "Regret" from the late Emperor Liu Bei of Han!

Lord, minister, general, chancellor, soldier…

What demons and monsters are imprisoned within.

Clearly it is an entire era's ultimate unresolved grievance!

Ban, Prison, Gate, Regret.

Those four characters are like four insurmountable mountains, crushing everyone present.

Jingzhe, Guyu and the others' faces turned ashen, instinctively looking at Su Ming.

In their eyes, this man was the all‑powerful Demon King.

But now, facing this near‑legendary forbidden place, he…

…what will he choose?

Avoid his edge?

Consider a long‑term plan?

After all, Ling Xi's prophecy was…

Ten deaths without life!

"Impossible!"

Mengdie was the first to react, stepping forward, her pretty face full of anxiety and resolve.

Had she known earlier that Ling Xi could see such terrifying details, she would never have brought it up, even if beaten to death!

"Mr. Su! It's too dangerous there!"

"Since we've already uncovered the general situation inside, we can proceed calmly, no need to rush!"

Exactly!

Jingzhe also gritted teeth and stepped forward; those eyes full of battle intent were now filled with pleading.

If we go, it should be me, Jingzhe, who leads the way for you! How can you personally court danger?

They had just seen a hint of hope that had stepped out of the greenhouse, embracing heaven and earth.

How could you just watch helplessly as that unique sun charges into a black hole doomed to go out?

Su Ming didn't speak.

He merely gazed at them with those still, ancient-well eyes.

Touching?!

Not at all!

You're going?

He slowly opened his mouth.

Only death awaits.

Moreover, your deaths would be meaningless.

As his words fell, everyone's face turned pale.

Must it be so realistic!

This man couldn't even be bothered to find a noble excuse.

If they go, they're just delivering themselves!

They're dead weight!

They're a burden!

Suddenly realizing, in this man's world, they don't even qualify as cannon fodder……

You help me guard it; don't let anyone enter that place.

Then wait for me to return.

Su Ming stopped looking at them and headed straight for the door.

It was already past two in the afternoon; there was no time to linger.

Creak——

The carved wooden door was pushed open, then slowly closed.

Only deathly silence filled the room, and twelve lost women.

In the afternoon, the ancient street was deserted.

Su Ming walked alone on the blue-stone road.

On either side stood antique-style shops selling various Shu specialties and Three Kingdoms-themed memorabilia.

Now, it had long been emptied of people.

Su Ming strode straight into a Han-themed shop.

On the wall hung replicas of the Azure Dragon Crescent Blade and the Zhangba Snake Spear.

Inside the glass case sat a delicate model of the Wood Cow Flowing Horse.

These crafts were once valuable.

Now……

Just unwanted trash.

Even if those people took them as offerings, they'd deem them inadequate.

Su Ming's gaze finally settled on a corner.

There stood a flag.

Not a dragon flag.

Nor a commander's flag.

Just a plain black flag with a white border.

In the center of the flag, written in vigorous strokes, was a large character——

【Han】!

Su Ming stepped forward, reached out, and gently brushed the dust from the flag.

Beneath the cold fabric seemed to slumber an unyielding backbone of a nation.

He took nothing else.

This alone was enough.

He gripped the cold flagpole and hoisted the black flag onto his shoulder.

Afterward, he left a red ticket behind and turned away.

He crossed a stone bridge.

Below the bridge lay the dry Jin River.

He passed through a bamboo grove.

When the wind passed, the bamboo leaves remained still; only deathly silence remained.

The oppression and sorrow in the air grew ever thicker.

Su Ming's expression remained blank, his steps neither hurried nor slow.

Step, step, and another step.

Finally.

He came to a stop.

Ahead, a continuous red wall separated inside from outside.

Inside the wall, verdant bamboo concealed ancient cypresses reaching the sky, solemn and reverent.

This is the main gate of Wuhou Shrine.

Above the gate lintel, the four large characters 'Han Zhaolie Temple' exuded an indescribable sorrow beneath the overcast sky.

Su Ming did not rush to enter.

Thud!

He slammed the Han flag he bore on his shoulder heavily onto the blue stone slab.

"Junior Su Ming."

"I came especially..."

"Knock on the gate!"

His words fell.

There was no earth-shaking response.

The wind did not rise, the clouds did not stir.

That heavy vermilion temple door remained tightly shut, not a twitch.

The four characters 'Han Zhaolie Temple' on the lintel grew ever more glaring.

Su Ming just stood there.

One hand held the black‑background white‑character Han flag, the other hung naturally.

His body stood like a spear, nailed to the blue stone slab, motionless.

One minute.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Anyone else, faced with this silent, lifeless temple door, would have long lost patience.

Either he would step forward and push the door to investigate,

or he would feel like retreating and turn away.

But Su Ming chose neither.

He would stand like a stone statue gazing into endless distance, confronting this ages‑long time!

Because.

"Eye of Truth," he saw!

Countless blood‑red threads surged from all sides deep within the shrine, wildly converging on this vermilion temple door!

They wove, coiled, and scrutinized behind this door!

Another ten or so minutes passed.

The light of the threads finally reached its peak.

A solemn, killing sound echoed in Su Ming's heart.

"Who comes, and on what basis do you knock on the gate?"

"He has come!"

Su Ming slowly lifted his head, calmly gazing at the lintel inscribed 'Han Zhaolie Temple'.

His right hand, holding the flagpole, exerted slight force.

Thud!

The base of the flagpole struck the ground heavily once more.

"By the Han spirit not yet cooled by this flag, by the forty‑year‑old unresolved grudge,"

"By the lands you cannot hold, I come to claim them!"

"By the hatred you cannot swallow, I come to quell it!"