After the battle ended, the bloody stench still hung over the battlefield. The surviving Hellhounds realized the situation had turned against them and fled in panic toward the other two Hell Gates. Their figures looked utterly wretched in the faint light of dawn, their growls filled with fear and resentment. The warriors roared and charged after them with weapons raised, determined to wipe out these demons completely. The pursuit lasted through the entire night, and only at dawn the next day did the battlefield gradually fall quiet.
When the morning sun spread across the land, the army finally began tallying the results. News returned to the command post: thirty-seven Three-headed Hellhounds had been slain, along with nearly eighty thousand Two-headed Hellhounds and ordinary Hellhounds. The report was like a shot in the arm, instantly lifting morale throughout the camp. Though exhausted, the soldiers' faces were filled with pride.
However, the price of victory was equally clear. Marquis Damon's army had fallen from more than seventy thousand men to fewer than forty thousand still capable of fighting, nearly half their forces lost. The wounded soldiers' camp was packed to bursting, with the smell of blood mixed with medicinal herbs, making it hard to breathe. Ang had barely slept since the night before last. Together with the healers, he treated wounded soldiers day and night without rest. Faced with comrades who died because treatment had come too late, Ang felt heavy-hearted, yet he still gritted his teeth and pressed on, directing the rescue efforts in an orderly manner.
By nightfall, all severely wounded soldiers had been arranged to travel through the Temporary Portal to Bahoya City for recovery. Watching batch after batch of wounded soldiers carefully escorted away, the weight in Ang's heart finally eased. His eyes were bloodshot and his steps