When the sounds of battle are deafening, the sound of an arrow is not so clear or distinct.
The arrow, angled sharply and specially designed, was aimed at the neck, the only part of the body not covered by armor.
Jiang Jizu instinctively sensed the presence of the arrows, but by the time he forced the enemy back and swung his sword, it was too late.
The arrow was about to pierce his neck and throat, causing him to bleed profusely.
In the blink of an eye, Vice General Jin shouted from the side and pounced at top speed.
Before he could even shout "General," he was stabbed in the right neck, the pain rendering him speechless.
"Deputy General Jin," Jiang Jizu's eyes widened in fury, "retreat! Retreat!"
Perhaps if we wait a while, until the army doctor comes and removes the arrow, there will still be a chance to survive.
But where can I get a refund?
There were people all around, blood splattered everywhere, severed limbs, and neighing horses.
If you stop, you will be pierced by spears, cut in half by swords, and lie down like a lump of flesh, without a sound.
Even though Jiang Jizu tried his best to protect him, several spears still managed to pierce through Jin's body.
He clutched his neck and shook his head with all his might.
No...no, General.
War is cruel, and the battlefield is bloody; a moment's hesitation is enough to kill.
A deputy general can die, but a general cannot.
The northern frontier needs General Jiang, and the border army also needs General Jiang.
Even if Vice General Jin dies, there will be countless other vice generals, but there can only be one Grand General.
"General... kill the enemy." He squeezed out four words with all his might.
If we don't kill the enemy now and continue the entanglement, more of our compatriots will die and more blood will be shed.
How heartbreaking! They can't even stop for the dead.
Jiang Jizu suddenly looked up, glanced coldly in the direction from which the arrows came, and roared, "Men, the Tartars are desperate, the Tartars are afraid! Kill them, drive them out, and send them back to the grasslands!"
"Go back to the grasslands!" Tens of thousands of soldiers shouted in unison.
Their moves became increasingly fierce, and their actions increasingly ruthless.
They stepped over the corpses of their enemies and compatriots, dragging their wounded bodies, and raised their sharp blades high.
The snow-white blade reflected the crimson glow, the color of blood, stinging the eyes of every Tartar.
Mingming used his skills to rush into Guanjin Line, but was forced out of the gate. His clansmen fell one after another, and those who were still alive were injured and bleeding, while the enemy seemed to feel no pain and was fearless of death.
People will feel fear, and the morale of the army will collapse.
Once the first person started to flee on horseback, the others naturally followed suit and galloped away.
The equally exhausted Dayu soldiers, as if injected with chicken blood, pursued even more bravely, cutting down the Tartars.
Jiang Jizu did not follow.
He staggered to Vice General Jin's side, suppressing his grief and pain, "Wake up, I'll take you back to get treatment, I'll take you back to pull out the arrow, and I still have two sausages hidden away that I haven't told you about."
"You can't sleep. You still have two brats at home who haven't grown up yet, and your wife is still waiting for you to come back to Fengjing."
“Although you complain about it every time you talk about it, I know you love your family very much, and I know you want to be reunited with them and never be separated from them again... Old Jin, get up, get up.”
But that man was impaled on the ground by several spears, his neck twisted, his eyes wide open, as if he wanted to take one last look in the direction of Fengjing.
He could never rise again, and like millions of fallen soldiers, he became nourishment for this land.
Jiang Jizu had led troops in battle for so many years that he thought he would never shed tears again, but it wasn't until he felt a coldness on his cheek that he belatedly realized he was sad.
If he had known this would happen, he would have handed over the two sausages.
If only I had known...
We must fight this battle, and we must kill this enemy.
If we don't resist, even more people will die.
There were far more people than there are now.
Overwhelmed by exhaustion, Jiang Jizu could no longer hold on and collapsed next to Vice General Jin.
He really is getting old; his arms ache, and the wounds from his youth now throb with pain, reminding him, along with the gray hair at his temples, that his body is declining.
You can't deny getting old. When I was a teenager, I fought against the Tartars and was so exhausted that I almost died. But after a night's rest, I was back to my old self.
After the age of thirty, I start to feel tired. One night's rest is not enough; it takes two or even three nights for my energy to slowly return.
When he turned forty, all the accumulated wounds and pain came rushing back at once. He had seen military doctors and taken medicine, but they couldn't find the problem. He could only lie alone on his military bed and fight it off with the willpower that had been tempered by the years.
The imperial physicians in the capital did say that these ailments required rest and recuperation, but how could a general have time for such rest?
The devastation everywhere, the bloodshed throughout the city, the innocent lives lost, and the departure of close friends and family constantly reminded him of these things.
As long as the war continues, the country will not be at peace.
The war will not end, and the mission will not stop.
Someone choked up first, and a sob echoed throughout the battlefield. Those who were still alive looked at the corpses of their comrades who had been laughing and joking just yesterday, and let out desperate howls.
Cry.
There are still things to do after you've finished crying.
Killing is only the first step; injuring is the second.
The medical care in the Dayu Dynasty was far from excellent. Severed limbs could not be reattached, broken intestines could not be saved, and there was nothing that could be done about excessive bleeding. How many of those wounded soldiers lying on the ground could survive?
Historical records show that when the two armies clashed, the greatest loss was not the deaths in battle, but the injuries and illnesses.
Even the disposal of the corpses after the war was a huge problem.
It was summer, and the corpses were rotting very quickly. If they weren't dealt with soon, they might cause a large-scale plague, which would be a catastrophic disaster for the frontier army.
After a brief release of their emotions, the tearful soldiers still had to stand up and carry their wounded comrades to get medical treatment and their dead comrades to be buried.
It was the kind of haphazard burial that left no body, no name, and not even a keepsake.
Perhaps a very close friend will help keep it safe, but who can guarantee that he will still be alive next time, and that the keepsake will be returned to his loved ones?
Despite the pain all over his body, Jiang Jizu took a wooden plaque from Vice General Jin's neck, rubbed it on his body to make sure his name was visible, and then solemnly put it into his pocket.
"General," a soldier reported, "reinforcements from headquarters are about to arrive to handle the aftermath of the Guanjin Railway line incident."
He waved his hand weakly, indicating that it was okay to proceed.
Not long after, 60,000 troops arrived at Xiama.
The two boys who were leading the group limped over, and breathed a sigh of relief the moment they saw him.
On the hillside outside the city gate, two teenagers witnessed this hell on earth and silently turned and left.
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