They had no reinforcements, so their deaths were inevitable. In the end, barring any unforeseen circumstances, their side would surely emerge victorious.
But now.
The unexpected happened too quickly; so quickly that even as he kept firing arrows, he still couldn't stop more and more people from rushing into the city.
Sweat dripped down his eyebrows, gradually blurring his vision. His arms grew increasingly sore, and the three fingers he used to draw the bow were red and swollen from the pressure. The stinging pain made his temples throb. Xiao Hu held his breath, but hesitated to exhale.
He has lived in Nanze for seventeen years, from the moment he was born until he joined the army a few months ago.
The steamed buns at the shop near his home cost only three coins a steamer basket, and they tasted delicious. Last year, Sister Gu, the seamstress at Zhao's Tailor Shop on the next street, would always smile and reveal crescent-shaped eyes. The young man was once blushing with excitement, but later he learned that she had a three-year-old son and that her husband was none other than Old Zheng, the hot-tempered butcher who sold pork at the bridgehead. The young man lost interest and never went to the tailor shop to have his clothes altered again.
But ultimately, Nanze City, where he was born and raised, holds a very heavy place in his heart.
As the superiors said, once the rebels enter the city, they will inevitably carry out a massacre, and in that case, everything I am familiar with will cease to exist.
For this reason alone, he could not put down his bow and arrows.
Having emptied another quiver, Xiao Hu called out urgently, "Brother Zhang, Brother Zhang! Do you have any more arrows?"
Not hearing a reply, Xiao Hu turned his head away.
But what came into view was Zhang Ge, pale-faced and with blood at the corner of his mouth. From the corner of his mouth to his collar and then to the armor on his chest, blood seemed to have soaked him through, and beneath him was already a pool of blood.
The thuds of arrows, the explosions of cannon fire, and the shouts and cries of thousands filled Xiao Hu's ears.
The sound of coughing up blood beside him was as gentle as a night breeze, disappearing without a trace.
Xiao Hu's face turned deathly pale instantly, and his hands began to tremble violently uncontrollably. The bow fell to the ground, and although he opened his mouth, he was unable to utter a sound.
Instead, after coughing up another mouthful of blood, Brother Zhang gradually moved closer to him.
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