So much grain, even more than what was burned yesterday—a stream of it being nothing short of mouthwatering, high-quality rice and fine white flour.
Everyone was so shocked that even those weary from a night of fighting felt an unusual surge of strength while loading the food.
Outside the city, Ye Jiu and Sikong Mo were finally going to part ways.
At the time of separation, Sikong Mo didn't have much to say. He only faintly told Ye Jiu, "Take care."
He didn't even dare to say "wait for my return."
The affairs of the battlefield are unpredictable. His martial arts are extraordinary, and if it came to single combat, he could confidently say that he wouldn't be afraid of anyone he faced.
But in battles involving thousands of troops, nothing was certain, and even a slight mishap could lead to obliteration.
Just like his own father—the guardian deity in the hearts of the Dongyue people, an existence he could never surpass in his own heart.
