Wang Liangchen's words made Badulu dare not say anything else. Mongolia measures men with courage. People without courage have no status. If the coach advocates avoiding the battle, the coach can cut off his subordinates' head at any time.

Badulu was defeated by his kindness and went down embarrassedly to rectify the troops in his army. Naturally, no one of the other Mongolian generals would touch this bad news anymore. Although everyone could see that Wang Liangchen was full of energy and was not concerned about the overall situation and was stubborn to fight against the Song army on Qingniling.

This situation is not uncommon during the Mongolian army's war. During the Western Expedition, Genghis Khan did such things many times. Many of the tragic murders of the city occurred after the defenders were defended by the Mongols and broke the city at no cost. In the words of the Mongolians, this was a shock, in order to let other enemies see how miserable the consequences of fighting against the Mongolian army were.

This makes sense. Mongolia is trying to conquer other countries, aiming at population and land. It doesn’t matter if it is earlier or later. Anyway, military rations are plundered. Without logistical pressure, there will be no combat time limit problems caused by military rations and grass problems. It will not be like the Song army often in the dilemma of losing food and having to go back to the court.

Wang Liangchen didn't believe in this evil. He stood there, staring at the mountain with his blood-stained eyes. He had to take down this mountain.

Wang Liangchen was making a ruthless, and Tuozhi was also making a ruthless.

It’s just that Na Duzhi’s cruelty has a desolate smell.

The ditch halfway up the mountain was almost filled with corpses.

Several times, the Mongolian soldiers had successfully stepped over and swarmed towards the top of the Tieshan Mountain. It was Nadozhi who personally led hundreds of people who served as reserve teams to launch a counterattack to suppress them.

All of these hundreds of people had a heavy armor similar to a ghost soldier. The iron face covered the face, the long iron leaf cover skirt was hanging all the way to the knees, and the iron shin guarded the calf bones. The whole body was covered with iron blocks, like walking iron figurines. Although the one holding was not an expensive strange knife, the long-handled heavy axe was also intimidating. When they rushed down from a high place like a mountain collapse, the weight of the body and armor alone was unstoppable. The Mongolian sword could not cut through the arrow and could not shoot in. The iron mountain was washed away and was barely guarded.

Another wave of Mongolian army charges were defeated, and the battlefield temporarily calmed down.

On the front hillside at the foot of the Tie Mountain, the trees had long been cut down to enjoy. Some of the remaining stumps and shrubs emitted wisps of smoke and dust from the rockets burned into the sky. On the reddish-brown land, large patches of blood stains dyed the ground even more red. The layers of corpses were like cruel performance art, turning this originally verdant peak into a slaughtered ocean.

"drink!"

A Song soldier raised his strength and slashed the heavy axe in his hand, breaking a belly in front of him, but still lying on the ground with his weapons and lying on the ground, splashing red and white all over the ground.

The sky was getting late, and the bloody sunset slowly set in the west. The crescent moon slowly rose to the sky with Bo Xi, and the light became blurry. The battle between the Song soldiers and the Mongolian soldiers was half-death, which was the last battle during the day.

Naduzhi sat on a stone not far away, watching his subordinates pulling out the heavy axe from the heads of the Mongolian soldiers, and then spitting a mouthful of water on the ground.

His body was covered in sweat, and the sharp blade of the long blood-covered sword was covered with crumbling mouths like a saw. The iron helmet on his head was taken off and placed beside him. His hair was soaked with sweat, as wet as if it was fished out from water. The heavy armor on his body was covered with knife marks and arrow marks. One part on his shoulder was particularly hideous. There was a deep knife mark from his shoulder to his chest and abdomen, which almost almost broke the deep knife marks of the armor. I guess the Mongolian soldiers who gave him this sword were extremely powerful.

After a few breaths, Na Duozhi took the water bag handed to him by a soldier and poured a breath.

"How many brothers died today?" he asked.

The soldier who handed him the water bag was not tall, his skin was not as dark as that of ordinary barbarians, he looked a little pretty, and he was not old. He was a military clerk. Generally speaking, such a person would not take a knife to fight, but at this moment the clerk was also wearing leather armor, and his body was covered with red and white.

The document took out a book from his arms, which was placed close to his leather armor. He kept it very carefully. He turned a page and recited: "I just counted that 256 people died in battle today, 700 people were injured and 69 people were injured, and 410 people were seriously injured and unable to take a knife."

After a stop, he added: "Today is the day with the most casualties in the past few days. The brothers are probably tired and are so tired that they can't hold the knife."

Na Duozhi listened quietly, his face was full of joy and sorrow.

After these seven days, he was already numb.

Being able to hold on to this day is already the limit, not only the limit of the physical body, but also the limit of the spiritual.

Fortunately, the Shimenfan barbarians are the backbone. The three thousand soldiers from Sichuan are also veterans who have seen blood. They are not like young men who have never been to the battlefield. They have a firm will and are fearless of death. Only then can they hold on to the iron mountain firmly under the leadership of Natuzhi until now.

If it were the ordinary Song army, they might have been unable to hold on and disperse.

Life and death, when it comes to hearing his ears, they are just numbers.

"So... If you can stand with a knife tomorrow, if you calculate it, there will be only more than 2,000 people." Na Duzhi picked up the long sword that had countless small holes, rushed down the tip of the knife, leaning on the hilt of the knife with both hands, and talking tiredly: "Maybe less than 2,000."

Wenshu licked his mouth and didn't talk to him.

His right hand was trembling slightly, a little nervous and uncontrollable. This was caused by too many times during the day, too much force, and muscle spasms.

Even the documents were in battle and they were stabbed with a knife. The iron mountain was indeed exhausted and the lights were gone.

"Persevere, just wait a moment." Na Duzhi stood up, and the night wind blew his hair, and the cool feeling was particularly comfortable.

The clearly contoured face was as firm as a knife and an axe under the cold moon.

The clerk blinked, and he could hear Nadorzhi say this sentence every day.

"A moment, there is no problem, I will definitely stick to it." Na Duzhi repeated, holding the iron helmet at his waist, holding a knife in one hand, and walking towards the mountainside. Many Song soldiers were lighting the torch there, and they were not able to rest assured at night. The Mongolians like to play with some yin. Night attacks are an activity they often do. They have not been able to lower their heads three times in these seven days. The torch can illuminate the front of the mountainside, so that the enemies who touch them in the dark can no longer hide.

Nadorzhi walked over and encouraged them one by one, patted this shoulder, touched the head, took a look at the wounded bandage area, and checked the arrows he sent down to pick up during the war breaks, and finally shook his arms and worked with the soldiers to dig a ditches and lift stones to prepare for the next battle.

The iron mountain is very high, and you can see from the peak of the highest point. The Baihe River, which is like a jade belt under the moonlight, circles around Qingniling and flows to the east, like a giant hand gently wrapping Qingniling, gently protecting the mountain in his arms.

In the shadow of the night, on the side of the riverside where the moonlight cannot shine, a row of rafts are slowly moving along the river channel. Long bamboo poles are scattering in the water, making a depressing sound. The crowd of people lying on the raft, like a group of leopards waiting for an opportunity to move in the dark, deliberately hiding sharp minions, waiting for the opportunity to rise.

Zhang Yu, the confidant general of the Sichuan commander Wang Kui, was the strongest leopard among them.

The 10,000 Sichuan reinforcements led by him rushed to the bottom of Qingniling at this critical point.

(End of this chapter)
Chapter completed!