Prologue: Two SwordsHuo Long sat upon a grand throne carved from the very stone of the tallest mountain peak in North China. The throne stood at the edge of a balcony overlooking an awe-inspiring ndscape. Below, a sea of people filled the mountain ranges, tribes from every corner of the north united under one rule. The air was thick with anticipation and the sound of their collective cheering seemed powerful enough to shake the very mountains.

  Huo Long was a man of formidable presence, a powerful and violent aura emanating from him. His face was chiseled and stern, framed by a mane of wild, jet-bck hair that fell to his broad shoulders. His eyes, sharp and piercing, burned with an intensity that could cow even the most stalwart warrior. Scars crisscrossed his weathered skin, each one a testament to the countless battles he had fought and won. Muscles bulged under his ceremonial armor, which was adorned with intricate patterns of dragons and fmes, symbols of his dominance and power.

  To Huo Long's right stood a young girl with long brown hair and rge, fierce eyes. Her expression, one of intense determination, seemed almost out of pce on a face so young. This was Huo Lian, his daughter. Despite her tender age, she had a fierce presence that contrasted sharply with her otherwise cute and delicate features. Her small frame and innocent appearance masked a fiery spirit and a keen mind, attributes she had inherited from her formidable father.

  In the center of the balcony, resting upon a marble pedestal, was a golden crown. Seven powerful chieftains, each a leader of their respective tribes, approached the pedestal with grave expressions. The ceremony was both symbolic and binding. One by one, each man drew a knife and cut his palm, allowing his blood to flow freely. The crimson drops spttered onto the golden crown, mixing to form a deep, dark red.

  When the st man had added his blood, they all grasped the crown together. The weight of their combined will, their hate, jealousy, and greed, made the air around them heavy. They lifted the blood-stained crown and approached Huo Long.

  With a solemn, almost ritualistic motion, they pced the crown upon Huo Long's head. The golden circlet, now marked with the blood of the tribes' leaders, glinted in the sunlight. The crowd erupted into cheers, a deafening roar of approval that reverberated through the mountains.

  Huo Long, with the crown now upon his head, stood and raised his arms, acknowledging the unity he had forged. His eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the vast expanse of his newly unified territory, but he never once gnced at the fierce-eyed girl standing by his side. Huo Lian's presence was ignored, as if she were just another part of the background. The cheers of the crowd swelled, drowning any thought of her in the grandeur of the moment.

  Far below from the grandeur of the mountain peak was a humble farm nestled in a lush valley. The contrast was stark. Where the mountains were harsh and imposing, the valley was peaceful and verdant, a testament to hard work and simple living.

  A man, massive in stature with arms and legs the size of a grown man's waist, worked the fields. His powerful build and the ease with which he handled the rge plow made him look more like a minotaur than a farmer. Despite his imposing appearance, he had a face that exuded warmth and kindness. His eyes, a gentle brown, sparkled with a perpetual cheerfulness, and his ughter rang out hearty and sincere, a comforting sound that seemed to echo through the valley.

  This man was Zheng Wei, a gentle giant whose enormous muscles belied a heart full of compassion and gentleness. He stood up, his towering figure casting a long shadow over the well-maintained farmnd, and ughed heartily. His eyes sparkled with satisfaction and pride.

  A young boy approached him, his steps quick and filled with purpose. The boy, Zhen Jian, carried a rge jug of crystal-clear water. His sturdy build and bright, happy eyes mirrored the cheerfulness of his father. With a broad smile, he handed the jug to Zheng Wei, who took it with one hand, his other hand coming to rest lovingly on the boy's shoulder.

  Zheng Wei took a long, refreshing drink from the jug, then set it down. He looked out over the farmnd, his arm still around Zhen Jian. The nd was well-tended, a patchwork of green and gold under the setting sun. Both father and son stood together, silent but proud, their bond strengthened by the fruits of their bor.

  As they looked out over their nd, a sense of peace and accomplishment settled over them. In this moment, the world was simple and good, and the farm stood as a testament to their hard work and unity.