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Chapter 328 - 324 - Who March Towards Silence
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His breastplate was dented, his helm cracked along the cheek.
The cold bit at his hands as he reached for his sword, lying just inches beyond his grasp in the frostbitten grass.
Around him, the clash of steel echoed — muffled by the ringing in his ears and the thudding of his own heartbeat.
He could smell blood.
Not just his, but his men’s, thick and hot and flooding the earth like wine from shattered barrels.
A strong hand grasped his arm.
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