As Ruo Zhong shouted, the surrounding soldiers stretched their necks and charged up the hill with all their might. Meanwhile, at the very end of the troops, Ding Fan's lips unconsciously curled into a strange arc.
Quickly, Ruo Zhong led the soldiers to the top of the hill, where Qin Wu was commanding his underlings to clean the battlefield. The previous battle had indeed been brutal; though the bandits were unharmed, the soldiers from Tufan Country suffered heavy casualties.
Standing on the battlefield, Qin Wu was admiring his handiwork when suddenly he heard a chorus of battle cries from behind the hill, the earth-shattering sound seemingly capable of bursting eardrums.
Hearing this, Qin Wu furrowed his brow, a sense of foreboding washed over him. Hadn't he already defeated a wave of soldiers? How could there be another?
