Three days later, the moonlight shone bleak and cold.
The two-thousand-strong force from the Central Plains rested beside a river. Every man was utterly exhausted, yet the brightest smiles still blossomed on their haggard faces.
Through a lifetime in the saddle, campaigning north and south, they had never imagined a day when they would slaughter barbarians until their arms cramped, until they had no strength left.
Bonfires flared nearby. The army overseers led their men in counting the severed heads, then ordered the barbarian skulls gathered and piled into a Jingguan.
A quarter of an hour later, flames roared, and the stench of corpses blanketed the sky.
Seven army overseers held a stack of lists, raised their voices, and called out in turn:
"If your head count is wrong, come register it at once!"
"Wei Qier, thirty-seven barbarians slain!"
The soldier whose name was called thrust his arm into the air and cheered, his smile bold and exuberant!
"Qian Yuanzhen, forty-six barbarians slain!"
"Liu Mengfu, nineteen barbarians slain!"
"Wu Cailai, eleven barbarians slain!"
"..."
Half an hour later, deafening cheers rose from the riverside, every man brimming with stirring pride.
What glorious military achievements!
What were they proudest of?
These achievements were only part of it!
On the bloody main battlefield against over a million barbarian troops, they had taken even more heads. Their superiors would assess those in detail after they reached the barbarian capital.
One soldier waved his spear and shouted:
"Those barbarians are nothing but vicious wolves made of paper! How are they as terrifying as the rumors claim? One barbarian worth five Central Plains soldiers? I knocked the heads off ten vicious wolves all by myself!"
Many of his comrades set down their dry rations and looked up at him.
Qian Yuanzhen, the centurion who had