The water level had been falling steadily. They wanted to salvage the Wooden Rafts while the mudflat was still narrow, leaving the army a route of retreat.
But the rafts were extremely difficult to drag. Even a whole group lifting a single raft could not move it. The men themselves could barely walk, let alone haul heavy objects.
The depth of the mud beneath them was simply unfathomable. In shallow places, it did not reach past the knees; in deep places, it could swallow an entire person.
The Yan army was launching a fierce frontal assault, while the soldiers in the rear trying to salvage the rafts had been tormented by the muddy flats to the brink of despair—a despair where something lay within arm's reach yet seemed at the ends of the earth. They could only watch helplessly as the water level receded inch by inch with time.
When the Zhao army's commanding general at the front learned of the situation behind them, he wept amid the battlefield's slaughter.
A dignified grown man stood there with tears shimmering in his eyes. The battle was still far from over, yet tears silently streamed down his face, soaking his beard. His lips trembled as he muttered, "Zhao Kingdom... is finished! Zhao Kingdom is finished..."
He was not one of those ordinary soldiers below who merely followed orders and knew nothing of the larger situation. He knew perfectly well that once the Yan army had joined forces with the Zhao Kingdom rebels, their overall strength was twice that of his side. Whenever they launched an attack, they usually committed forces double those of the Zhao army.
And the man commanding twice their strength was no wine sack and rice bag, but a famed general whose name shook the world.
There was also