Chu Qiao stood high in the watchtower as she looked over the jubilant Beishuo. Seeing that there was some hope of victory, everyone rushed up onto the city walls. Lifting up some simple yet crude stone catapults, they stubbornly defended the city.
The black masses of arrows fired out in batches as the enemies fell like grass under a lawnmower. Wearing a white overcoat, Chu Qiao was expressionless. Hundreds of thousands of lives were being lost every second, and it would be all commanded by a simple gesture from her. The blood flowed like a river, and in some places, it started to form huge puddles. All of a sudden, on this battlefield, it seemed as though human lives were no longer valuable, as they were like mere ants, as the demon of war opened its mouth and swallowed them whole.
