Deputy General Wang stumbled to his feet, his left arm hanging limp and boneless at his side. Splintered bone pierced his skin, and blood mixed with cold sweat soaked half his armor. Spitting out a mouthful of warm, salty blood, his bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at the blinding glare piercing the darkness—an eerie halo flickering like a ghost fire, stretching the shadows of the fleeing rebel soldiers until they looked like a pack of skinned, stray dogs.
The night wind carried the stench of gunpowder into his nostrils. A sweet taste rose in his throat, and he choked out another mouthful of blood.
"Fall back!" he roared, swinging himself onto his horse. More than twenty remnants of his cavalry retreated toward the camp like startled birds. The sound of hooves fell like scattered rain, while behind them, the crater left by the explosion still billowed with smoke.
Chapter 73