Tudege also noticed something strange about the Kang army.
Looking at the head trampled underfoot, Tudege's eyes snapped open. The owner of the head had a thick mane of golden hair, tied in the most common Northern Desert style. Usually, that golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, but today, mud mixed with blood had smothered its luster. Its former color was nowhere to be seen. It was ashen and filthy, just like the owner's bloodless face.
The head did not belong to one of the Northern Desert troops.
It belonged to an enemy slain by a Northern Desert warrior!
Those words repeated in his mind, over and over, growing louder—
They've fallen for the trap!!!
"Retreat!"
He shouted himself hoarse as he ordered his men to turn back. But before the command could be relayed, a circle of imposing "wooden walls" rose along the edge of the Kang camp, trapping the Northern Desert troops inside. The walls fit together seamlessly, without a single gap.
At first, the Northern Desert soldiers weren't affected.
Ever since their army had swept forward like a breaking bamboo, singing victory as it stormed into the Kang camp, they had been slaughtering the resisting enemy. Some had been beheaded, some hacked into mincemeat, and others trampled into mush beneath iron hooves. They had completely lost themselves to bloodlust. Enemy heads meant military merit, and military merit meant a future. Fame, fortune, fine carriages, and beautiful women were all beckoning to them. How could they not be exhilarated?
Blades sank into flesh, and blood sprayed everywhere.
The bloody scenes only further inflamed them.
Their minds held nothing but kill, kill, kill!
Even when they saw the "wooden walls," it never occurred to them that the enemy was striking back. They assumed their own Literary Scholars had shut