Liaodong Dialectical Journal

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Chapter One: The capture of Liaodong Grey was the dead city, the towering squares of the melancholic patchwork quilt wept over their remains; their tears blood, they cried only of the unparalleled damage. Dust circulated the scarred city, threatening to engulf it. The wind was tempestuous; it howled and screamed through the destroyed labyrinth, its palms buffeting anything in its pathways. It went at each building with amazing speed, tearing at the bricks’ A small green river of hats and military uniforms slithered its way through the streets as hundreds of men and women and children gazed helplessly at it. The communist army of China had penetrated through to the Liaodong peninsula. Purely defective was the army, a…show more content…
Small streams of yellow light leaked modestly from the old paper windows high above the undulating wooden brackets of the ancient pillars, giving only slightest light. It was just before dawn when the sun is cerise; its light could be seen rising from behind the hundreds of buildings, as though climbing up an array of uneven steps. It was the most amazing silhouette Luo Rong had ever seen. “Let us enter.” said the skinny boy standing beside Luo Rong. “We are missing the speech.” “I was admiring the view of Chen kiang, but yes. Let us enter.” replied Luo Rong. The door pushed open to a towering assembly hall with statuesque pillars rising up to the seeming infinity, their heads clouded in the void. Unlike the rest of the city, the hall was a magnificent mahogany with redwood beams crossing over the roof and delicately painted silk lanterns on wooden stands. It was more of a Eurasian palace than an assembly…show more content…
His piercing eyes were pearls of pure antagonism; they screwed closed as he loosened the collars of his tree-green cadet uniform. “I control my ship, not you! I have seen more agony in my life then you ever will!” “History should not be written this way, regardless-” “I don’t bloody care about history, I am its antagonist!” Disputed the bearded man, his long finger pointed at the small, feeble-looking man with dark-faced visage adjacent to him. “Listen little man; don’t even think about trying me!” “Do you see this?” Spoke the small man with a content yet villainous intonation. He pointed at the crimson band wrapped around his arm. “Second division, Brigadier General; hammer and sickle. I am a communist party official; you are merely a ship captain.” The bearded man gave a hearty laugh, and then reluctantly stood up. His eyes narrowed noticeably on the insult of his inferiority

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