"Squad leader, y-you, look outside!"
The soldier's voice trembled.
The veteran and the other soldiers started, rising from beneath the battlements to look outside the city. Then their expressions changed, one after another.
In the first light of dawn, they could faintly make out countless figures moving in the Han Army's camp outside the city. Vast numbers of troops began assembling, and the densely packed army advanced on Jinyang City in the morning light like a black tide!
The enemy was attacking the city!
Without time to think, a soldier took the horn from his waist and prepared to blow it-the warning signal for an enemy attack.
But before he could bring it to his lips, a hand covered in calluses and blade scars snatched it away.
It belonged to the veteran who served as their squad leader.
The horn bearer stared at him in astonishment and could not help asking, "Squad leader, what are you doing? The enemy's attacking! We have to sound the horn!"
Once the horn sounded, the soldiers in the camp would assemble and hurry to the walls to repel the enemy. This was one of the duties of the soldiers on watch.
"Look over there."
The veteran pointed toward the walkway along the wall nearby.
Naturally, theirs was not the only squad on watch. There were at least a hundred soldiers, gathered in groups of three or five.
But those soldiers were either crouching beneath the battlements, sleeping or warming themselves by fires, unaware of the enemy outside, or had spotted the enemy only to crouch back down again.
Not a single one sounded a horn.
The veteran casually tucked the horn into his belt, swept his gaze over the soldiers, and said with a deep look in his eyes, "Nobody else is blowing theirs.