A faint wind stirs, lifting waves of yellow sand. The heavy scent of blood drifts through the air, while flocks of dark birds circle ominously overhead.
Scattered soldiers clean up the battlefield, their quiet sobs occasionally piercing the silence.
On the slope, soldiers continue to sweep the battleground. They carry corpses one by one, every face pale and haunted.
The battle had barely begun, yet it had already descended into such carnage.
Inside the pass, behind the city walls, weary-eyed soldiers sit together. The city gate stands open, and more bodies are carried in. Every gaze is lost and hollow.
Many of these soldiers have never experienced war on such a scale. The unrelenting violence breeds terror, spreading among them. Some cry aloud upon seeing the bodies of their friends and loved ones.
Edward Grant sits atop a stone at the city gate, his battered bone spear resting on his shoulder as he watches the soldiers sweep the field.
A wild gust of wind howls past, making the Grant Banner atop the watchtower flutter. The crest in its center is riddled with holes. Joseph Qiao stands quietly, watching Sophie Grant, whose hands are still stained with blood.
All day, the enemy’s counterattacks have been fierce. Under their commander’s lead, our soldiers who charged out were forced back beneath the city walls.
Terry Mao is wounded, and Sebastian Zhao has stayed close to Edward Grant’s side. The enemy is determined to claim Edward Grant’s life.
Joseph Qiao gazed at the swirling yellow sand and the corpses strewn across the ground. Fear gnawed at him. He remembered what his father once said: he never truly understood what war was.
But now, numbness was all he felt. Whether it was the weary, weeping soldiers or those gripped by terror, ready to flee—everyone’s purpose was to hold this pass.
"The enemy will return tomorrow, won’t they? Joseph, go get some rest."
Lona Long spoke as she climbed down from the watchtower. Joseph Qiao nodded and descended, glancing back once at the blinding sunlight that streamed through the main gate, shielding his eyes with a hand.
"Is there nothing here but corpses?"
Joseph Qiao turned, then suddenly stopped. He saw someone—King Grant—talking with the generals and soldiers. Many troops gathered around.
"Tomorrow will be another brutal fight. Don’t let the enemy terrify you. If this pass falls, the land behind us will be scorched, our families enslaved. Hold your ground. This is why you stand here as soldiers."
"Commander Bella Liang, I hear today’s battle was devastating. Are you badly hurt?"
Before her stood a man a head shorter than Bella Liang, his face alight with excitement. He was the Sage Army’s commander, Cyrus Sage, his gaze fixed on Bella Liang’s bleeding shoulder—struck by an arrow.
When the assault reached the city walls, Bella Liang was struck in the shoulder by an arrow fired from the watchtower. What infuriated her most was that the archer was a woman—she saw her clearly, even from thirty meters away.
"Tomorrow, let the Sage Army lead the attack. You’ve all worked hard these past days, and the Wynn Domain’s troops need rest as well."
Cyrus Sage smiled, bowed, and then departed.
Today, 150,000 Sage Army soldiers arrived at the front. On our side, we had 230,000, but Lydia Lien withdrew 100,000, leaving only 130,000 now.
Back in his own camp, Cyrus Sage immediately summoned all the generals.
"No matter what, take the pass within three days."
"Yes, Commander Cyrus Sage. If we seize the pass, when it comes time to divide Grant Domain, we’ll have leverage—the Wynn Domain won’t be able to argue against us."
Cyrus Sage nodded, still smiling.
"That may be so, but remember: this is a joint operation. We must coordinate—don’t split Wynn and Sage too distinctly in battle, or we’ll end up like the northern tribes, disorganized and weak."
At the left pass, Lucille Xing held tightly to Sophie Grant.
"Sophie, don’t go—wait a little longer. Joseph Qiao just sent word: we shouldn’t act rashly yet."
"We've already lost more than twenty-five thousand. If the enemy continues their assault on the Central Pass tomorrow—and keeps attacking day after day—the Central Pass will inevitably fall."
"Just one more day. Please, Sophie, just one day."
Lucille Xing shouted desperately. Sophie Grant's face was twisted with anger. Every day, new reports from the Central Pass arrived, fueling her growing anxiety.
"We can't wait any longer. Order the entire army to prepare for battle!"
With a creak, the main gate swung open. Sophie Grant led her soldiers away from the West Pass. She knew better than anyone—the three passes had been managed by her younger brother for years, but she often came to deliver supplies, and Simon Grant would share his thoughts with her each time.
Of the three passes, the West Pass was the easiest to defend. Flanked by mountains on both sides, its width was barely over fifty meters, but now the fifth row of barricades had been reinforced, and the forward defenses were solid.
Even if the enemy tried to charge, this pass widened outward, but the deeper they advanced, the narrower it became. Any attempt to bring siege engines inside would turn them into easy targets.
Even if the enemy could break through the pass, the space inside was suffocatingly tight. They couldn't advance for long.
The entire force surged out from the West Pass. Sophie Grant quickened her pace, her mind haunted by Simon Grant's words from their past supply runs.
The Central Pass was the Grant Family's lifeline. If it fell, there would be no way to repel the invaders from the Grant Domain.