Half an hour later, on the battlefield.
The scorching sun was baking the earth, the silent primeval forest was filled with all kinds of insect and bird calls, lively and noisy. The oppressive and hot air was filled with a restless atmosphere, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, falling in patches on Luo Zheng, who was lurking under the tree. His face, dotted like golden butterflies dancing in the wind, but no one had the mood to appreciate this. The lurking people kept their eyes fixed forward, sweat the size of beans rolling down their oil-painted faces, washing them into filth, yet no one moved, continuing to lurk, tightly gripping their guns.
Half an hour had passed, the bodies in the open grounds were still there, yet the enemy was slow to arrive. This result confused everyone. From time to time, the corners of their eyes glanced at Luo Zheng, hoping he would have a new plan. Should they continue to hold on or retreat? Everyone felt uncertain.
