Those who had never been to the desert and Gobi could never know what it felt like. Everywhere they looked, the scenery was exactly the same; not losing one's bearings here would have been the abnormal thing.
Especially when fierce winds blew, once the blowing sand settled, many landmarks would be buried, and even the footprints left on the way in would vanish. It was a terrifying thing.
The soldiers in Luo Wuji's army were discussing it in low voices. "Brother, can you still tell which way we're going?"
The soldier being asked replied, "I lost track long ago. Now I don't even know which way north, south, east, or west is."
Luo Wuji was being asked the same question by those beside him. He pointed ahead and said, "My instincts tell me we're here, and our objective is here. As long as we march another thousand li, we can find the best and safest route to turn back south. I hope our brothers can all hold on."
Since ancient times, no long march had ever been without deaths. Every surprise attack in history had left many corpses along the way. The principle that the merciful could not command armies manifested itself in every aspect. Outstanding generals could reduce the death rate to a minimum, whereas someone like General of the Second Division Li Guangli, who lost half his army before even reaching Dayuan on his campaign against it, could only be called a fool.
Days of marching had left the army's morale somewhat low. These men were all elite troops, unafraid of fighting with real blades and spears, yet they found their present circumstances frightening. Day after day, there was nothing but endless yellow sand and the Gobi Desert; spotting an oasis was their greatest stroke of luck. This