The howling wind whipped the sand and gravel like sharp arrows, driving them against the watchtower with a rapid rattle that seemed to tell of the border's desperate peril. Shen Mingyue clutched the wooden railing of the watchtower so tightly that her knuckles turned white. A sharp wooden splinter pierced her palm, and a drop of blood slowly oozed along the grain, though she did not feel it at all.
Behind her, the campfire flickered uncertainly, casting her distorted shadow across the rough ground like a tattered battle flag. The intelligence gathered from interrogating the prisoners yesterday now coiled like a venomous snake in her mind: enemy envoys laden with gold and silver were shuttling between the northern barbarian tribes, attempting to forge a massive coalition strong enough to trample the borders of Dasheng. "If we don't find a way out, we truly will be surrounded on all sides," she muttered to herself, her voice torn to shreds by the roaring wind.
Anxiety grew wildly in the depths of her heart like climbing vines, every heartbeat accompanied by dread for the unknown battlefield ahead. Gu Jinghong strode over, stepping across a ground covered in frost. He clutched a sheepskin map tightly to his chest, its edges damp with cold sweat and speckled with bits of grass stuck in the creases.
Chapter 114