A Ming silently picked up his water pouch again, taking a light sip. Drink more blood in peacetime, so there's enough to spill in wartime.
Xue Three sat on Fanli's shoulders, and next to Fanli, a coffin rested.
After leaving the city gate and arranging the troops in formation, Chief Zheng suddenly felt a wave of panic. But after gazing at the figure in the Southwest, he felt indifferent again.
Zheng Fan wasn't deliberately trying to curry favor, nor did he expect Tian Wujing to notice him. Truthfully, he didn't have many thoughts, only one remained: Since Old Tian is here, no matter what, I have to back him up.
「...」
In the Southwest, Tian Wujing, surrounded by thousands of Three Jin knights, remained seated atop his Pixiu.
The Pixiu was panting, looking exhausted. It was indeed tired. A journey that would typically take at least three days was completed in one. The two flag-bearing soldiers behind him had each ridden two horses to death.
