Ten miles north of Panyu City.
Lin Mo stood atop the newly built watchtower, his hands clasped behind his back.
The watchtower had been erected on a small hill behind the camp, built from thick logs and standing roughly five zhang tall.
From its summit, he could take in both the Official Road to the north and Panyu City to the south.
The morning wind blew in from the north, carrying the chill of early autumn and the scent of distant cooking smoke.
His gaze passed over the Clones reinforcing the outer defenses of the camp and settled on the newly erected encampment two li away.
More than thirty thousand men, divided among over a dozen units, with disorderly banners and uneven rows of tents.
Some used standard military tents, neat and uniform;
Some had erected shelters from tattered cloth, crooked and lopsided;
Others simply slept in the open, bodies sprawled haphazardly beside their campfires.
The Soldiers' equipment varied even more drastically, a complete mishmash:
Some wore plate armor forged from fine iron, carrying spears and Waist Knives, standing tall and full of vigor;
Some wore nothing but battered, worn-out Leather Armor, gripping rusty iron blades, their faces listless and their eyes unfocused;
Others could not even afford the most basic Leather Armor. Dressed only in coarse hemp clothes, they clutched spears as they huddled by the fire, gnawing dry rations with cold water.
Lin Mo's gaze slowly swept from left to right across the disorderly camp, and a cold, sharp curve tugged at the corner of his lips.
They were a thoroughly disorganized rabble.
Such an army could hardly be called capable of fighting. It would be impressive enough if they did not descend into chaos on their own.
Wei Zhaodu had stationed them north of the city. Rather