When the stars descended over Baifeng Plain, dew was condensing among the withered grass.
At midnight, the firmament showed a hue somewhere between dark iron and crow blue, with stars scattered like grains of salt across an endless sheet of dark satin.
There was no wind, yet the torn banners still trembled faintly, drops of blood falling from them into the mud.
Broken limbs lay everywhere, along with trampled fragments of shields and iron helmets half-buried in the earth. Shells were piled across the ground.
Mei Lin stood beside several bodies tangled together, his expression somewhat dazed.
After the great battle ended, he was lucky enough not to be badly injured, but every muscle in his body ached as if it were about to kill him, and the Implant inside him was sending out an intense hunger.
"Cough, cough, cough, cough!"
The violent coughing jolted the dazed Mei Lin awake. He hurriedly turned around and saw Old Man Yao slumped on the ground, his back against several corpses.
"How are you? Are you all right?"
Mei Lin hurriedly bent down to ask.
After the battle began, he had stayed close to the other man. Several times, he had only survived because of the other man's intervention.
It could be said that without Old Man Yao, an experienced former Southern Border Army scout, he would never have lived this long.
"Why are you wasting words? Hurry up and take out the medicine!"
Old Man Yao panted.
Mei Lin came to his senses and hurriedly pulled out a bottle of medicinal powder, sprinkling it over the wounds on Old Man Yao's body.
"We... lost, didn't we?"
As he treated Old Man Yao's wounds, Mei Lin asked the question.
"What do you think?"
Old Man Yao shot back irritably.
Mei Lin recalled what