The towering city walls of Jincheng loomed indistinctly in the morning mist. Xia Huai'an's ten-thousand-strong Xiangyong Army pressed forward like a sea of dark clouds, their steel helmets gleaming coldly in the rising sun. The synchronized sound of their marching stirred fine ripples across the surface of the moat.
On the watchtower, Commander He of Jincheng gripped the battlements so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his fingernails nearly bit into the green bricks. Staring at the imposing figure beneath the red banner outside the city, his Adam's apple bobbed a few times and his voice rasped, "Xia Huai'an... actually dares to rebel..."
This army was completely unlike any ordinary government troops—their bearing was disciplined and utterly silent, save for the snapping of battle flags in the wind. The soldiers wore Light Steel Armor, tucked modified crossbows at their waists, and held shields or long spears in both hands, their gazes as cold and hard as iron. They were neither as clamorous as roving bandits nor as lax as imperial soldiers, but rather resembled a drawn sword: their keen edge sheathed, yet fraught with murderous intent.
Chapter 145