The situation had changed far too quickly. Even with all his cunning, he simply could not fathom how Zhao Cheng had managed to turn two hundred thousand able-bodied men to his side in such a short time.
As for Zhao Cheng having men lie in wait here to intercept him, that was secondary.
According to his original estimate, Heaven's End Pass should have been able to hold out for at least another two months.
Indeed, the fact that it could only hold out another two months was itself due to advances in weaponry.
For in history, Heaven's End Pass had once held off an enemy force of six hundred thousand with merely five thousand defenders—for a full half year.
Five thousand holding back six hundred thousand—this was no longer a matter of how formidable the defending general was. This city was a natural stronghold.
While Sun Yuantai was lost in thought, he was hauled before a man dressed as a general.
The man gripped Sun Yuantai's chin and forcibly lifted his head, sneering. "You're Sun Yuantai?!"
"I thought you'd have three heads and six arms. Turns out you're just a dying old man!"
"Oh, right. I heard you write quite well!"
"So from now on, you won't need to write anymore!"
As he spoke, the man did not hesitate. He drew the sword at his waist and sliced off all five fingers of Sun Yuantai's right hand.
He had only sheathed his sword halfway when he suddenly paused. "I hear many scholars can write with either hand. Can't leave the other one intact, either."
As he spoke, another flash of steel swept out, and the fingers of Sun Yuantai's other hand fell in response.
As blood spattered, Sun Yuantai froze. He had never imagined that the enemy would torment him