Gao Xuan led the remaining cavalry back towards the Great Wall, with the two hundred over dead bodies carried on horseback, returning home together.
The Northern Frontier Army had a noble tradition: as long as the remains of fallen soldiers could be retrieved from the battlefield, they would be sent back to their hometowns by designated personnel. At the Northern Frontier's Great Wall, it was not just the Great General who wished to return home.
However, most would never leave the Northern Frontier's Great Wall alive. Even if they died in battle, their remains would often be left on the grasslands. Only a few could have their bodies brought home by their comrades.
Gao Xuan slowly rode his horse, watching the setting sun. It was nearly autumn, and the northern grasslands would soon be covered in a new blanket of snow. When the snow piled up, the bodies would be buried deep within it. Come spring, when the snow melted and the grass grew, these bodies would turn into fertilizer, leaving no trace of their existence.
Just as Chen Chao had said, there were people dying in the North almost every day for the human race, but most of their names would never be known to the world. It was a heart-wrenching reality, but one that could not be changed.
Therefore, Gao Xuan’s hope was simple: to reduce the number of deaths.
But if they did not die, should the defenseless civilians die instead? Should the women, children, and elderly die? Should the women, children, elderly, and sick, die?
There was no sense in that.
The cavalry continued southward for half a day without encountering any more demon troops. With about another half day's journey remaining until they reached a pass leading into the Great Wall, a scout who had been riding on the outskirts suddenly galloped towards them. Gao Xuan lightly pulled the reins, halting his horse, and waited for the scout.
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