The blazing sun hung overhead as the convoy moved along the rugged road. The carriage wheels rolled over rocks and dust with a creaking sound. A guard hurried to Ang's side, his face covered in sweat and grime. After saluting, he reported, "My lord, the road has been too bumpy. The soldiers can barely endure it. Could we stop and rest for a while?"
Ang did not answer immediately. His gaze passed over the guard and fell upon the wounded soldiers on the flatbeds. Their faces were pale from the prolonged jolting and scorching sunlight. Cold sweat mixed with dust on their foreheads, leaving them in a wretched state. Worse still, blood had seeped through the bandages around their wounds, staining the cloth a shocking red. Ang's brow furrowed tightly at the sight.
He fell silent for a moment, then waved his hand. "Have the vanguard stop." His voice was not loud, but it was firm and forceful.
"Yes, my lord!" The guard immediately replied, then hurried toward the front of the convoy to relay the order.
Ang turned to the soldiers beside him. "Arrange all the carriages in a circle. Put the wounded in the middle and set up camp here." The soldiers accepted the order and quickly got to work. Before long, the entire convoy had stopped, and the wounded were carefully settled within the protected area formed by the carriages.
At that moment, the logistics officer hurried over, his forehead covered in sweat. He had clearly noticed Ang's order. Panting, he asked, "My lord, is there an emergency?"
Ang turned toward him, his expression cold. "These wounded soldiers cannot get proper rest while being jolted around like this. Look at their wounds—the bandages are already soaked through with blood. And now the sky is clear, with the