Chapter 126: Shocking the Entire Audience!

Wu Xiang’s adept use of the camera, blending fast and slow motion with a seamless interplay of long and close-up shots, created a marvelous chemical reaction. Given current technical capabilities, achieving this level of quality with film was truly remarkable.

The professionals attending the screening were no amateurs; they understood the difficulty of achieving such an effect, and Wu Xiang had left them genuinely stunned.

Yet, the shock was far from over.

Wei Qing’s cavalry suddenly surged forward, driving away the harassing forces before racing to reinforce the infantry. On the hillside, riders began to emerge; they had arrived just before the Han infantry collapsed. Wei Qing had suspected the Xiongnu’s tactics, and the scene below confirmed his intuition: the enemy had intended to stall him, only to concentrate their full force on destroying the infantry.

"Brothers!..." At that moment on the hillside, Wei Qing struck his sword against the spear of a front-line rider, delivered an impassioned speech, and then led his massive cavalry force in a downward charge.

While previous scenes had been shot in segments, this sequence was a continuous long shot. Furthermore, it featured the most realistic collision yet. Throughout the charge, there was no clichéd, soaring music typical of domestic films; instead, the soundtrack was ethereal and serene—a stark, almost jarring contrast to the battle.

However, through Wu Xiang’s long-lens cinematography and high-speed slow-motion shots, the image of ten thousand horses galloping became both aesthetically beautiful and deliberate. Combined with the music, it evoked a sense of spiritual transcendence. The soldiers' expressions—resolute, brave, even stoic—blended with these elements to create another extraordinary chemical reaction. It felt as if the people and horses on screen were simultaneously non-existent and undeniably real.

Closer, closer, and closer still. The two cavalry forces were about to meet face-to-face.

Turf flew from the horses' hooves; spears swayed in rhythm with the gallop... Everything was elongated, time seemed to slow down, and then!

"Ahhh!"

"Ohhh..."

Bang! Crash! ...The collision!

In an instant, the speed accelerated. The sound was deafening, like a car wreck; the entire theater seemed to tremble. The sound design was pushing the limits of the cinema’s audio equipment.

"Holy cow!"

"Incredible!"

"This is absolutely brilliant!"

Faced with such visceral footage and powerful sound effects, the professionals' hearts raced, and some even stood up in excitement. In this sequence, Wu Xiang utilized editing to perfectly merge speed and slow motion. Before the impact, the rearing horses were captured with high-speed cameras in slow motion; at the moment of impact, the film returned to normal speed, which, to the human eye, appeared lightning-fast. This served to mask the natural limitations of the horses' speed while delivering a visceral impact to the audience.

To truly shock an audience, one must have a perfect grasp of timing—capturing that exact moment of impact. People are strange; when it comes to visual perception, too long is boring, and too short feels fake. Wu Xiang had experimented with the editing countless times until he himself was sufficiently shaken.

Another tool was the sound design. In an era without 3D, where weapons couldn't "fly" at the audience, sound had to do the heavy lifting. Wu Xiang used a cunning strategy: the louder, the better. The cinema’s sound system was massive, and he took full advantage of it. Unfortunately for those sitting near the speakers, it was a rough experience, but it was all for the sake of the effect.

These techniques sounded complex, yet they occupied only a few dozen seconds on screen. In these war scenes, Wu Xiang drew inspiration from grand historical epics like *Hero*, *The Lord of the Rings*, and *Kingdom of Heaven*. Only a "reborn" soul like him could pull this off, and only through such methods could he achieve this scale on a limited budget. Otherwise, without hundreds of millions, it would be unthinkable.

The collision shattered the Xiongnu’s might, securing Wei Qing’s legendary legacy and causing the Xiongnu to crumble. Emperor Wu of Han continued his offensive while actively expanding his influence in domestic and foreign policy. Domestically, he implemented the "Grace Decree" through Zhufu Yan, and after the death of Tian Fen, he consolidated power. Years later, he launched another war against the Xiongnu.

This time, Huo Qubing took center stage. A young general, he won victory after victory with courage and unconventional tactics, striking fear into the hearts of the Xiongnu. This part of the story included the Xiutu King and Jin Ridi; after the golden idol used for worship was seized, Jin Ridi was captured and eventually pledged allegiance to the Han Dynasty.

These plot points symbolized national integration, but Wu Xiang added his own creative flourish: a romance between Huo Qubing and a Xiongnu princess. Somehow, they locked eyes amidst the fighting, and one thing led to another. This subplot was purely historical fiction—an artistic liberty taken by Wu Xiang. He figured that since history hadn't clearly recorded this, why not add some artistic flair? If the history books didn't say, who could say he was wrong?

Then came the "underdog" story: Wei Qing marrying Princess Pingyang. After all, Wei Qing had once been a mere stable slave to the princess; the social gap between them was immense. The princess was played by Asiru, a student from the '98 class of the Film Academy. Despite her name suggesting ethnic minority heritage, Wu Xiang felt Yao Chen was better suited for the Xiongnu princess role because of her distinct features—he wanted someone who looked like an "outsider."

By the third campaign against the Xiongnu, the war began to feel like an exhausting drain on the empire. Wu Xiang didn't emphasize the battle scenes here; instead, he left an intriguing plot point: the Xiongnu princess finds Huo Qubing and leaves him with a child. While this was an artistic invention, it was rooted in the historical mystery of the mother of Huo Qubing’s son, whose identity was never recorded. Wu Xiang felt like a grandmaster, using history as a canvas to serve his narrative.

As Huo Qubing achieved fame across the Han Empire, his mother, Wei Shao'er, appeared.

"My son, do you know who your biological father is?"

"Mother, didn't you tell me he was long dead?"

"I wish he were dead! But that old wretch is living quite comfortably. Do you know how he treated me? And how he treated you?..." Played by Li Bingbing, Wei Shao'er told the story through a series of flashbacks, concluding, "You are a man of status now; it is up to you how to deal with him."

Huo Qubing was conflicted. Would he seek revenge? He didn't have to. When Huo Zhongru saw Huo Qubing, he crumbled like a worm, stripped of all dignity.

Would Huo Qubing crush the weak? No. He helped his father and even brought his half-brother, Huo Guang, into the imperial court. Why not seek revenge? As Huo Qubing told his mother, "The revenge has already been taken."

With that, Wu Xiang’s story reached its conclusion. The screen went black, representing the passage of decades. The haunting sound of a *xun* (clay flute) echoed as the film ended on Emperor Wu’s vision: he was riding a white horse, galloping freely across an endless grassland.

The screen remained black, and a line of text appeared: *Centuries later, the Northern Xiongnu, who refused to submit to the Han, migrated westward, eventually leading to the collapse of the mighty Roman Empire. Historians call them the 'Scourge of God'.*

Applause broke out as the lights came up. These professionals couldn't help but stand and clap; they hadn't expected a domestic film to achieve such quality. It was a truly powerful piece of cinema.

Afterward came the Q&A, essentially a premiere for this group of critics. You had to show them respect, or their pens would be sharper than any blade. Fortunately, almost everyone praised the film, noting that its story structure and grand battle scenes were on par with Hollywood blockbusters.

The reporters then dove into their work, sniffing for news.

"Director Wu, did you use computer-generated effects? The large-scale battle scenes looked..."

"No, we used entirely practical, on-location shots," Wu Xiang replied quickly.

"Director Wu, what was the total budget for *Emperor Wu of Han*?"

Wu Xiang glanced at his partner, Yu Dong, thinking, *Did you set this up?*

"50 million. This is the largest budget I’ve worked with as a director."

50 million? Wasn't it just over 25 million? Indeed, it was, but 50 million sounded better. This was publicity. In this day and age, could you call your film a "blockbuster" if you didn't inflate the budget? While Wu Xiang usually preferred honesty, he realized that in this industry, the bigger the number, the better the hype. Yu Dong had even suggested saying 100 million, which made Wu Xiang break into a cold sweat at their lack of shame.

In the end, the screening had transformed into a full-blown press conference, with the goal of turning their cinematic ambition into a national sensation.