Moonlight curdled into cold frost on the spear tips of the Xuanjia Army. Ye Fan stood in the front row, his palms feeling the warmth radiating from the fingertips of the four women beside him: Su Qingxue's hands were calloused and thinned from the zither strings; Lin Zhaoyue's knuckles trembled slightly from gripping her sword; Chǔ Hóngzhuāng's palms exuded the sweet, cloying fragrance of Gu Insects; and Qín Wǎnshuāng's Tiger Tally pressed so hard against his palm that his skin burned.
He gazed into the churning sea of torches in the distance, listening to the sound of his own throat swallowing.
"General, the enemy lines are moving!" came a hoarse cry from the watchtower.
Chapter 195