Qin An was only sixteen years old this year and served as Qin Hu's personal page. He was very frail, could no longer bear the torment, and looked as though he had only one breath left.
In truth, Qin Hu was in little better shape. Over the past few days, the vanguard camp had been marching thirty miles daily, tasked with clearing mountain paths and bridging rivers, cutting firewood and building fires, digging trenches, hauling water, and setting up encampments.
What kind of situation would these two pampered young men face every day, surrounded by hundreds of rough, burly soldiers?
Chapter 979