Above and below the walls, battle raged like wildfire. Smoke billowed, blotting out the sky and sun. The Great Chen army attacked in wave after relentless wave, shaking the earth like thunder. Countless soldiers surged toward the walls heedless of their lives, scaling ladders thick as a forest, blades gleaming like snow, their battle cries draining heaven and earth of color.
Arrows rained down, whistling as they tore through the air. Western Liang soldiers fell in swathes atop the walls, their blood running through the cracks between the stones and staining the entire city red.
War drums, horns, and clashing blades mingled, as though every sound between heaven and earth had become a roar of death.
On the eastern gate tower, Eldest Prince Kan Cheng stood clad in golden armor, a long saber in hand. He leaned forward to stare at the densely packed Great Chen army below, his face livid and the veins at his temples bulging.
The elite armored cavalry he had just sent to break through and seek reinforcements had been slaughtered by the Great Chen army, their corpses strewn across the fields. Not one had survived.
Kan Cheng's saber hand trembled slightly, its edge flashing with a blinding chill in the sunlight. His eyes burned with agitation and fury, like a savage beast trapped in a cage. A sliver of regret rose in his heart: he regretted bringing only fifty thousand of his two hundred thousand troops to Qin Prefecture.
He swung his saber violently into the wall, sending sparks flying, and roared, "Where is Han Zhan? Where is he? Tell him to bring another thirty thousand Qin Prefecture troops! What are you all good for? Useless! Every last one of you!"
His voice exploded like thunder. The guards around him lowered their heads and fell