Yanmen Pass, August 15th, night.
A full moon hung above the battlements of Yanmen Pass, its cold, frosty light spilling across the mottled city walls to reveal dried bloodstains and slash marks. Those dark red traces gleamed with an eerie sheen under the moonlight, like the silent accusations of countless lost souls.
Along the ramparts, the defenders either leaned against the battlements to catch their breath or slumped in corners to bandage their wounds. Their armor was long since battered beyond recognition, the leather repeatedly soaked through with sweat, blood, and rain, giving off a sour, rotting stench. Someone licked cracked lips with their tongue, their Adam's apple bobbing, though they barely had the strength left to swallow their own saliva.
Chapter 233