In the parade ground of the Old Wolf Battalion, the wind whipped up sand and gravel, lashing at people's faces. Several faded battle flags hung listlessly from their wooden poles, emitting dull, flapping thuds.
About a hundred Old Wolf Battalion soldiers, clad in tattered leather armor, stood in sparse, crooked ranks. Many bore the numbness of lingering hangovers and the sullen gloom of long-withheld military pay. The glare of the harsh sunlight failed to dispel the heavy atmosphere of decay.
Wu Meng stood on the commanding platform like a fiend cast from black iron.
Chapter 104