Jialing Pass.
The sun had only just set, and a swath of orange-red evening clouds still burned across the western sky.
The Imperial Allied Forces eased their offensive. With night approaching after an entire day of fierce attacks, their exhausted officers and soldiers needed rest, and they withdrew like an ebbing tide. The Spirit Hall Empire finally gained a brief chance to catch its breath. After this round of attack and defense, both sides tacitly ceased fighting and began clearing the battlefield and reorganizing their armies, preparing to resume their life-or-death struggle the next day.
A thick reek of blood drifted over from the battlements. Leaning against the wall, Meng Yiran struggled to lift her heavy eyelids and followed the smell to an open space. Dozens of corpses lay sprawled before her, their skulls split, their bodies mangled, their limbs severed. Brains were scattered everywhere, and blood flowed freely, seeping into the soil drop by drop and staining it blackish red. The stench grew stronger, drawing a flock of flesh-eating birds that circled overhead, their hoarse cries enough to make anyone's hair stand on end.
This was merely the tip of the iceberg on the battlefield.
Beneath a gloomy, dark-red sky, blood ran in rivers across the vast earth, and corpses littered the fields. Severed limbs filled the eye, along with defiant heads that had rolled into corners. Fallen soldiers still stared at a patch of sky with eyes full of unwillingness. Birds swooped down and landed on bloodstained remains. The heavy reek of blood hung in the air, and broken spears and swords lay half buried among dirt and bones, glinting faintly in the dim light.
Heavy black clouds drifted beneath the ashen heavens. Several vultures slipped out from behind the uneven cloud banks and circled low, letting out