Rong Heng finally drew his sword, its tip pointing straight to the dim sky filled with falling snow,
and ordered:
"Transmit the order, all soldiers charge with the Dingyuan Army! As long as the Commander's Chariot does not retreat, I will not retreat, Dayan will not retreat!"
He cleaved a flying arrow with his sword and, along with countless others, fully immersed himself into the battlefield.
"Fight to the death, protect the Prince!"
"Charge, protect the Prince!"
"A reward of ten thousand gold to the one who takes the head of Prince Xiang!"
The soldiers on both sides shouted and charged at each other, merging with the wind and snow under the dim sky.
Rong Heng spurred Mo Feng into the air, his long sword sweeping, piercing through the neck of a Wei soldier.
Blood splattered on his cold features, a faint arc rising on his thin lips.
