When Zhang Guanlan and the others arrived, Ashitiemuer looked ashen, full of hesitation.
He was unsure if there was any need to siege the city under these circumstances.
If they proceeded with a full-scale assault, the casualties would be devastating.
The artillery bombardment from behind the Nankou Pass was virtually a deadly weapon within the confines of the narrow valley, unmatched in its ferocity.
Besides the massive loss of life, the ensuing drops in morale from the devastations wrought by the cannon were significant.
The weapon had demolished all the surrendered armies and threw his Iron Cavalry into turmoil and fear. In contrast, the Jin Army stationed in Nankou City were buoyed, their hopes strengthened, their spirits soaring in a fury of righteous indignation.
"Prince!" At this moment, a Lama around sixteen years old, draped in a robe, appeared beside Ashitiemuer. "If we proceed with an all-out attack, the Mongolian warrior here may lose most of their lives."
