Pei Zhan led the cavalry on a relentless journey, reaching the northwestern region by the seventh day. The dust raised by the five thousand troops blotted out the sky, while two people quietly slipped into the woods behind the post road.
On the other side of the woods lay two continuous hilltops, and beyond them was a garrison encampment stationed here.
The camp wasn't large, barely a hundred mu of barren land. The barracks consisted of just a few dozen rooms; rather than a garrison camp, it was more like a fixed sentry post.
The northwest was vast and sparsely populated, with large barracks and spacious living quarters.
At this moment, the north wind howled, yellow leaves drifted down, and dust occasionally swirled in the air. In the courtyard where Centurion Luo Zhao resided, it was surprisingly warm.
On the bed laid with exquisite silk, three people sat around the table. The person at the head was dressed in a silk robe, with a Great Zhou general's token placed nearby.
