"This lord is spent. You lot, escort me into East Mountain Fort to rest."
This wasn't Lord Zheng deliberately trying to put on some kind of show; he really was exhausted.
He'd been hacking and slashing for so long, and even been possessed by Mo Wan once in the middle of it. To have held out until now without collapsing was already no small feat.
Even the Sword Saint's robes were already stained with blood—that alone showed how much of an ordeal this slaughter had been.
Tired,
truly tired,
but he still could not lie down to sleep,
at least,
Lord Zheng knew full well in his heart that right now, he still had to keep bringing his own value to bear.
Once war breaks out, tens of thousands of lives on both sides are drawn into it. From bottom to top, no one actually escapes it. Every single person strains every nerve, all for that final outcome;
either you die, or I perish—there is no vague middle ground to choose from.
No matter how tired, how drained,
