"Father, it's been half a month."
Nalan Jing slashed the enemy's head and the blood splashed onto his handsome face. His eyes were filled with murderous intent. "It has been half a month. If we continue to drag it out, we will run out of food. We will be exhausted on the battlefield and we will not be able to fight."
Nalan Zhangqian's face was not as handsome as before.
A hideous scar spread from the corner of his mouth to the corner of his eye.
The blood had already dried up, and the traces were brown. There were countless dead souls under his sword. Even the body of the sword's original marks were now hidden.
"Jing'er, can you still remember the military regulations of our Nalan family?" Nalan Zhangqian pierced the enemy's chest with his sword.
His gaze passed through the warriors' figures and fell on the enemy's leader.
Nalan Jing's appearance turned stoic. At this moment, he was emotionally moved.
