Huang Chao stood atop the ruins of the camp gate, staring into the darkness to the south, his face livid.
The night wind carried the scorched smell straight at him, while the embers of the fire flickered in his eyes.
Zhu Wen knelt on the ground, covered in blood, his armor shattered. Lowering his head, he said, "Commander, this subordinate was incompetent and failed to stop Xue Rengui..."
"Get up." Huang Chao did not look at him. "It isn't your fault. A West Tier military general—five Tier 3 generals like you failing to stop him is only normal."
Zhu Wen rose to his feet with difficulty, gritted his teeth, and did not dare say another word.
Half a shichen later, the losses had been tallied.
Zhu Wen forced himself to step forward, his voice dry.
"Commander, over a thousand tents were burned down, several thousand war horses were scattered in panic, and roughly thirty percent of our grain and fodder was lost.
"The main issue was that a large section of the grain storage area behind the main camp was burned down. The fire spread too quickly; we had no time to save it."
"Thirty percent," Huang Chao murmured.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Although Xue Rengui's forces had failed to reach the Central Army's main tent in this nighttime raid, the damage they had caused was immense.
What pained him most was the destroyed grain and fodder.
"Commander, there's more..." Zhu Wen clenched his teeth. "Over eighteen thousand soldiers were killed, and over twenty thousand were wounded."
Huang Chao opened his eyes.
Firelight flickered in the depths of his gaze.
The blow to morale from this raid was far greater than the casualty figures themselves.
The fire Xue Rengui had set had burned not only