Chapter 40: The Last Sentinel

The group was stunned, looking around, only to find that Zhao Ergou had vanished without a trace.

"Raid the camp, storm the fortress, and seize the advantage under the cover of night. Watch how I handle this mere Gaoque Pass! You lot wait here; once the gates open, charge in!"

Zhao Ergou’s voice drifted from afar, brimming with confidence and arrogance.

"What?!" The group exclaimed. Where had he gone?

"Platoon Leader Zhao?" The soldiers searched the dark in panic, unable to find him.

"Platoon Leader! Don’t be reckless—" Luo Datong’s tearful cry broke the silence, sounding absolutely heart-wrenching.

"Get off me! Let go! Are you trying to get yourself killed, you damn fool?" Zhao Ergou’s angry roar followed immediately.

"—Datong can’t live without you, Platoon Leader!" Luo Datong’s voice was filled with despair, nearly throwing himself on the ground in grief.

The group looked toward the sound and saw Zhao Ergou pressed against the sheer cliff face on the west side. The bright moonlight cast a faint outline of his head and one hand—a hand that Luo Datong was gripping for dear life.

"What, what is going on?" The group stood there, completely bewildered.

"Luo Datong?" Zhao Ergou was so furious he nearly choked. He had been about to make his move when this kid stopped him. If it weren't for the fact that they were on the same side, he would have kicked him off the cliff.

"Let go! Damn it, let go!" Zhao Ergou growled through gritted teeth.

"No! I can't let you risk your life!" Luo Datong sobbed, his hands clamped like iron vises around Zhao Ergou’s arm, refusing to budge, looking utterly aggrieved. "Platoon Leader, we can't take such a risk! Let's retreat, let's go home! The Rongdi can't break through the Great Wall anytime soon; why must you throw your life away like this?" Luo Datong pleaded, tears welling in his eyes.

"Risk? Who said I was risking anything? I’m going to slaughter them all!" Zhao Ergou was almost amused by his own rage. Why couldn't these guys grasp his grand ambition? He wasn't going to his death; he was going to scale the impossible cliff!

That’s right, scale it! In Zhao Ergou’s eyes, there was no mountain he couldn't climb.

He wasted no time. His strategy for conquering this fortress was infiltration. Launch the attack from within, strike from the heart, and everything else would fall into place.

"Are you insane?" Sun Liu’s eyes widened, as if he were looking at a dead man already standing at the gates of hell. The other soldiers were deathly pale. Their platoon leader had always been bold, but this was beyond absurd. Was he so eager to die that he wanted a more thrilling way to go?

These were sheer cliffs all around. Do you know what a sheer cliff is? It’s a vertical drop, terrifyingly high. Not just a man—even a monkey would be smashed into a meat patty if it fell! No one dared to climb it even in broad daylight, yet here was their leader attempting it in the dead of night? Was he tired of living?

But who was Zhao Ergou? Once he set his mind to something, who could stop him? He would fearlessly charge into a sea of blades or a dragon’s den.

After shaking off Luo Datong, the group watched helplessly as Zhao Ergou vanished into the vast darkness, like a stone sinking into the ocean, leaving no trace.

"He... he really left?" Sun Liu clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms, a complex mix of emotions swirling within him. "The Platoon Leader is a madman. I don't know whether to admire his courage or mock his recklessness..." Sun Liu’s voice trembled with a mix of helplessness and awe.

No one contradicted him. Everyone felt heavy, as if a giant boulder were pressing on their chests, making it hard to breathe. The pitch-black abyss seemed like a demon with a gaping maw, swallowing their hope and leaving only fear and despair.

It was a pity. If it were daylight, or if they had a better vantage point, they would not be feeling this way—they would be so shocked their jaws would hit the ground and their eyes would nearly pop out of their sockets!

The moonlight bathed the cliffside in a silvery veil. Zhao Ergou moved across the rock face like a nimble ape. He climbed upward, dove downward, leaped like a gecko, and swung like a pendulum. Though his path looked erratic, like a winding serpent, it was steady and resolute. Every step was firm as he forged ahead toward Gaoque Pass.

"So this is a 'sheer cliff'? Hmph, nothing special," Zhao Ergou muttered to himself, his tone dripping with disdain.

"I don't care where I am. The people I intend to kill don't get to run!"

Who was Zhao Ergou? A man who feared nothing, a battle-crazed warrior whose eyes saw only conflict and slaughter. The lives of these Rongdi dogs were his for the taking—why wouldn't he want to rack up some kill points? One kill is even, two is a profit; the more he kills, the more he earns!

...

At the rear of Gaoque Pass, clinging to the edge of the precipice, a row of low wooden stakes stood in a winding line. Like the main walls at the front, they were brightly lit with torches, turning night into day. This low wall wasn't for defense against an army, but to control the sunny trail below, allowing soldiers to keep a vigilant watch over any movement. Because of this, the defense here was thin, with only a few guards patrolling lazily, devoid of any fighting spirit.

Behind the wall, two Rongdi soldiers walked toward each other—one tall, one short, looking like two uneven sticks. The short soldier on the west side yawned, his eyes bleary with sleep. "What took you so long? You're a full half-quarter late. If you hadn't shown up, I would've called for help!" His voice was heavy with irritation and exhaustion, like a cat not yet fully awake.

The tall soldier remained silent, merely bowing his head and patting the back of his neck, as if apologizing.

"Fine, it's your watch now," the short guard muttered listlessly, patting the other man’s shoulder. "I’m going back to catch some sleep." He turned to leave, his steps dragging.

However, the moment they brushed past each other, the short guard felt a sudden chill, as if he were being stalked by a ferocious beast. His body stiffened, frozen in place. An invisible force bound him, rendering him unable to move.

The tall soldier suddenly clamped a hand over his mouth from behind, holding him with an iron grip that allowed not a single sound to escape. A moment later, the short guard felt a chill in his chest, followed by a flash of agonizing pain. A sharp dagger had pierced through his back, its blade gleaming with the cold, lethal light of the Grim Reaper’s scythe.

The short guard’s eyes turned bloodshot, bulging like copper bells, filled with a mixture of terror and despair. He struggled violently, his body convulsing, but he could not make a sound, as if his throat were blocked by something unseen. Finally, after a few futile twitches, he went completely limp—the eighth and final sentry to fall on this side of the cliff.