Wu Jian stood before his mirror. Light flickered from the candle, providing just enough illumination for him to see his reflection. Shadows played across his face as light and dark danced with the fire’s flickering.
I’ll be going into battle soon.
The idea made his heart hammer in his chest, made the blood pumping through his veins feel cold. He wouldn’t deny he was afraid. He was very scared. Yet he would not allow his fear to control him.
These clothes don’t offer much protection…
No longer dressed in a hanfu, he now wore an outfit worthy of combat—loose-fitting black pants, a sleeveless black shirt with a gold dragon coiling around his torso, bandages wrapped around his arms and hands, and gong fu shoes.
Hou Jingshu had once told Wu Jian that the Shang Kingdom’s military wore armor
