The fierce autumn wind blew hard, carrying dry dust that stung the eyes. Tens of thousands of Bingzhou Wolf Cavalry stood frozen in the middle of the dusty dirt road. Their footsteps, which had initially shaken the earth, now came to a complete halt. All eyes were fixed on the giant figure sitting on the saddle of the legendary red horse, Red Hare. Lu Bu gripped the hilt of his Sky Piercer Halberd so tightly that the veins in his arms bulged. His blazing red eyes stared straight at Zhang Liao. The God of War had just yelled at all his generals and demanded an absolute answer from his most trusted man. Zhang Liao did not answer immediately. The knight in dimmed silver armor remained sitting calmly on his horse. His face was as hard as carved stone. He briefly glanced at Chen Gong, the military advisor who was turning pale beside him. The eye contact between the two rational men seemed to speak in a silent language. After

The room inside the temporary residence felt damp and stuffy. The stone walls were mossy, and the wooden floor creaked softly with every step. However, amidst the very rundown conditions of the border city of Xiaopei, a highly contrasting scene was unfolding. Lu Bu sat on the edge of the simple wooden bed. The giant man, whose hands were used to cleaving human bodies and crushing enemy skulls, was now holding a small porcelain bowl very carefully. His large, calloused hands looked awkward holding a wooden spoon. His eyes, which usually blazed with killing intent, now softened into something very gentle and full of warmth. Diao Chan leaned against a pile of pillows that were starting to look faded. The most beautiful woman in that era looked deathly pale. Faint dark circles adorned the bags under her eyes. However, a very sincere, happy smile never left her dry lips. Her slender hands continuously stroked her still-flat stomach. 

The shattered pieces of the sword hilt scattered across the bedroom floor. Lu Bu stood there with heavy, ragged breaths. Wang Kai's parting words about his unborn child deserving to be born in a palace kept echoing inside his skull. The words swirled like poison, burning away every inch of his sanity. The God of War stared at the pale face of Diao Chan. She was sleeping, exhausted from her severe morning sickness. Lu Bu adjusted his wife's blanket with an incredibly gentle touch. But the moment he turned around and stepped out of the room, that gentleness vanished without a trace. He slid the door shut violently. Lu Bu strode into the main hall of his temporary residence in Xiaopei. The War God's face darkened. A suffocating, murderous intent poured out of his body, causing the room's temperature to drop drastically. In the middle of the hall, dimly lit by candlelight, a thin figure in a gray robe stood like a statue. It

The oil lamp flickered softly inside the main bedroom of the Xiaopei residence. The night felt incredibly silent. Lu Bu sat on the edge of the wooden bed covered in thick silk. His massive hands, scarred from countless battles, gently stroked the forehead of the sleeping Diao Chan. The face of the most beautiful woman in China looked terribly pale. Cold sweat clung to her temples. This early pregnancy, only a few weeks along, had completely drained Diao Chan's physical strength. She had spent the entire day lying down, enduring the endless nausea tormenting her stomach. Lu Bu took a deep breath. The God of War stared at his wife's still-flat stomach with a highly complex look. There was pure tenderness there. There was hope for an heir. But at the same time, there was a suffocating frustration that gripped his throat every time he looked at the moldy stone walls of this room. "You are carrying my flesh and blood, Chan'er

The cool autumn wind swept across the courtyard of Xuzhou's military barracks. The atmosphere in this city felt incredibly peaceful. It was a peace that felt absolutely absurd considering this place was a sea of blood and corpses just a few weeks ago. At the edge of the training ground, Jo Fan sat leaning back in his dragon-carved wooden wheelchair. His legs were covered with a thick blanket. His lower motor nerves had not fully recovered yet due to the system penalty from printing the steel armor. The white-haired young man reached into an oiled paper bag with his right hand. He pulled out a piece of spicy cassava chip and popped it into his mouth. Crunch. The crispy sound echoed loudly. Jo Fan chewed slowly. His tongue was indeed still numb from the previous system penalty, but the sensation of chewing something crunchy gave a little bit of peace to his constantly overthinking brain. <