As Zhao Yun led the White Horse Soldiers into Ye City, the once merry drumbeats returned to a somber and solemn tone, as if bidding farewell to the White Horse and welcoming the strong into the arena.
From afar, Hua Xiong patted the neck of his Precious Steed. Zhao Yun could brush his cavalry's horses white, so couldn't their Xiliang Iron Cavalry brush them black? Not only did they brush their horses black, but also their weapons and equipment.
Accompanied by a deep drumbeat, Hua Xiong clamped the horse's belly and immediately urged his steed forward, while the Xiliang Iron Cavalry soldiers naturally formed a massive spearhead, with Hua Xiong as the tip.
As a Military Spirit Legion, they didn't need excessive display, nor any tricks; following Hua Xiong's galloping advance, the glow of the early autumn morning gradually faded, and the dim evening light slowly descended.
