Finest Servant

Chapter 522 The Grave Situation

News of the great victory at Wuyuan spread like wildfire to Xingqing, Shuofang, and Yanmen Pass, eliciting jubilant cheers within and beyond the Great Wall. Countless soldiers guarding the passes were elated, their spirits soaring, and tears of emotion wetting the turrets and battlements.

The threat of the nomads had lingered for a hundred years, an ongoing malaise finally alleviated today. This moment of upliftment was something that Great Hua had waited for far too long. Although the first battle resulted in annihilating only about 40,000 of the enemy, it was a feat achieved under unfavorable conditions, in terms of both manpower and capabilities. The brilliance of the campaign was enough to be included in textbooks. It was a milestone victory, enormously significant for boosting the morale of the Great Hua populace and its soldiers.

Stepping on gunpowder and holding fort at Wuyuan, Lin Wanrong led thousands of brave warriors in a bloody battle against the Turks. His valor and tact brought him instant fame. In a matter of days, his name spread throughout the regions along the Yangtze River and the areas surrounding the Great Wall, etched into the hearts of six hundred thousand soldiers guarding the borders. In comparison, his past achievements in eradicating the White Lotus seemed trivial.

However, Lin Wanrong had no time to dwell on these matters. The elite troops he had led from Shandong had suffered heavy casualties. Numerous young soldiers had fallen before his eyes, keeping him restless and awake at night. He seemed crazed in his relentless drilling of troops, waking up early and staying up late, surprising even those like Hu Bugui with his fervor.

"Miss Xu, could you please persuade the General?" Under the setting sun, Hu Bugui, Gao Qiu, and Du Xiuyuan stood next to Xu Zhiqing, watching Lin Wanrong’s imposing figure in the distance and sighing silently.

Astride his horse, Lin Wanrong was shirtless, gripping a sword in one hand while sweat beads trickled down his forehead and cheeks, blurring his face. He seemed entirely unaware as he spurred his warhorse and charged forward like a whirlwind. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on NoveI~Fire.net

"Charge—"

With a furious roar, the blade in his hand stabbed into a standing log, its tip shaking tremulously as it pierced through the wood. Behind him, a wave of shadowy figures on thousands of galloping horses kicked up a storm of sand, their riders shouting as they practiced desert warfare maneuvers.