In tens of thousands, in hundreds of thousands, the soldiers sang in unison—
"Yi Xu Xi!
A real man goes east, never to return!
If the Cang Sea wants to bury me, then let it be.
Today I set out on a campaign,
Tomorrow I am buried,
What of it, what of it, what of it?
Is it only the heroes of this world who can sing long tales?
I was born unable to see my old father sad!
After I die, I look toward my homeland, tears streaming in vain!
To have my corpse wrapped in horse hide is no good death.
Old friends have become a thing of yesterday.
What of it, what of it, what of it?
Is it only the heroes of this world who can sing long tales?
..."
The voice was magnificent, the voice was desolate.
The song echoed along the east bank of the Lian River, and soon even in the Autumn Kill Army's camp, the battle songs rose.
"Today I set out on a campaign,
Tomorrow I am buried,
What of it, what of it, what of it?
Is it only the heroes of this world who can sing long tales?"
