(Introduction is not the perspective of the protagonist)
Blood dripped down the blade of the long knife, soaking into the mud beneath the feet that was trampled by the horses' hooves. The heavy armor on his body was covered with dents, the wounds tore the flesh, and the biting cold penetrated into the bones along the seams of the armor.
The cavalry from the opposite side rushed over again.
The war horses roared, the lances flashed with cold light, and the rumble of hoofs seemed to shatter the earth. The comrades beside him were knocked over and impaled one after another, and fell heavily into the muddy water. I clenched the handle of the knife tightly, my legs were firmly planted in the soil, and I didn't dare to take a step back.
Waves of enemies came over repeatedly, knives and guns collided, and sparks flew everywhere. People around him kept falling, and the queue was torn apart, but no one dared to disperse.
Behind him is the stronghold, the national destiny of Daxia.
I gasped, the smell of blood filled my nose, and my vision was blurred by gunpowder smoke. I knew I would fall into the mud at any time, but as long as I was still standing, I had to hold on to this thin human wall.
