Bai Yujun leaped onto the crooked old tree again.
The first corpse from the old Tang Tian Ce Mansion had already taken its place beside Zhen Bei. Zhen Bei stood up again, quietly facing the person he had once been. But Bai Yujun could see his shoulders trembling. After all, merging nine lifetimes also meant merging the despair of dying in battle nine times, along with the hatred and pain he could never let go of.
Next came the corpse that had died in battle during the Northern Song, riddled with blades, spears, and arrows.
At the end of the Southern Song, it had crossed the river in accordance with an old man's dying words...
Then came the corpse from the northern expedition in the early Ming, and another from the late Ming, when it had fallen with Sun Chuanting at Tong Pass...
Last was the dark era of national calamity, so close it seemed within reach.
In the face of slaughter by savage, despicable invaders, he had resolutely taken up arms to fight. Yet the aristocrats of the Aristocratic Clans, who controlled everything, still had their minds stuck in ancient times—stupid and rotten. No matter how elite Zhen Bei was, he had still felt utterly powerless.
Looking around, some had been farming moments ago before being dragged here to fight; some were fighting purely for a mouthful of food. Then there was the logistics—there was not even a guarantee of the most basic footwear.
Against an enemy army professionally trained to kill, they had suffered defeat after defeat, retreating again and again.
Zhen Bei had experienced too many battles. From north to south, he had risen from an ordinary soldier to a low-ranking officer. The only reason he had been promoted was because nearly everyone in his unit had