Night fell. The moon hid and emerged among the clouds, while the continuous stretch of camps occasionally rang with the clink of armored patrols and the sound of night-watch gongs.
Zhong Cui pressed his lips tight, gazing sidelong at the night sky without a word. The lush, dark mountains complemented the military tents, yet everything was steeped in a deathly stillness.
"Is it going to rain again? Great undertakings are so difficult; autumn wind and autumn rain grieve a man to death!"
Zhong Cui had originally thought that although the great cause was difficult, the Kingdom of Ying had prepared for many years, and Cao Yiyan was no mediocre ruler. More importantly, problems had arisen with the Zheng Emperor's succession, causing no small amount of turmoil. There had even been rumors of emperor-slaying and ancestor-slaying.
With Prince Qi's rebellion and Prince Shu serving as an insider, they should have been able to break open the situation. Yet not long after their brief opening, it was as though they had fallen into a mire—the more they struggled, the deeper they sank...
A grand army of one hundred thousand elite troops had recently suffered several incidents of grain-foraging parties deserting while out on expedition.
With the army's morale like this, what could they do?
Perhaps they could only follow the king's words and stake everything on a single throw?
After an unknown amount of time, several raindrops pattered down. Just then, a personal guard came over. "Sir, His Majesty summons you into the tent to discuss matters!"
"I understand."
Zhong Cui answered. Not long after entering, he saw personal guards lined up on either side before the tent, each standing upright with a hand on his blade, their killing intent stern and chilling.
Fortunately, the personal guards' morale remained fairly stable.
Zhong