At nearly two thousand meters altitude, the forward positions of the Western Front were vividly alarming.
They were not the simple lines on a sandbox, but jagged, charred trenches, like ugly scars left after the earth had been repeatedly torn apart.
Between the trenches lay scorched earth, repeatedly plowed by artillery, devoid of any growth, strewn with twisted metal wreckage and unrecognizable debris.
The air was filled with the pungent smell of gunpowder, ozone, and a faint mix of blood and decay.
These incredibly real "sensations" were the information received and perceived by Qin Shi's spiritual fluctuations spreading out.
"This is the battlefield."
Even with his eyes closed, Qin Shi could see the moving, crawling figures of many people.
