The sunlight cascaded down from the city tower, filling the air with a tense and anticipatory atmosphere, as the soldiers gripped their swords and spears, waiting for the command to attack.
The Northern Yong Army had firmly secured all four gates of Yecheng—east, south, west, and north.
Yecheng was like an isolated island.
Its inhabitants, even if they grew wings, could hardly fly out.
A quarter of an hour was fleeting, gone in an instant.
While waiting for the order to besiege, pontoon bridges, scaling ladders, battering rams, and siege towers had already been pushed to the front of the formation.
All was ready, except for the opportune moment.
The soldiers held their breaths in suspense, quietly waiting.
"My King," Ao Qi saluted with a fist, "The hour has come."
General Ao, young and fiery, with eyes as red as if an uncontrollable excitement burned within, bore a face of resolve and decisiveness.
"I request to lead the charge in the assault."
