In the cold autumn air, the battlefield has taken shape. Red burns like a wildfire, with chariots advancing down the central file, pawns pressing close to victory or defeat. Black stands on the brink, with advisors shielding like an invisible wall, horses darting like night moths seeking a gap. Every move is a decisive cut, where intellect and courage clash. Join us in this mysterious world of Xiangqi, where every path is a poem of life and death, every drop of sweat a seed for victory...