He struggled to digest this eerie fact.
But Shen Zhi was nothing but a frail scholar, completely out of place on the battlefield.
The battle had dragged on for a full year.
He couldn't leave, and also... he couldn't bear to leave. He couldn't even send a letter back to Fengzhou City.
Shen Zhi didn't know martial arts, but his body's instinct did not lie. When an enemy's sword thrust at him, he rolled away as smoothly as flowing clouds and water, but soon after, he was struck by several arrows and nearly lost his life.
How could Shen Zhi dare to slack off during the period of convalescence?
Any slight negligence in this situation meant death.
He spent night after night poring over military books, accumulating combat experience, and later, in order to return with at least a breath of life, he learned to plunge a dagger into an enemy's chest. Blood splashed across his face.
This was his first time killing someone.
His hands trembled with fear.
