Shen Hao had heard the phrase "corpses strewn across the fields" a long time ago.
He always thought it was just an exaggerated figure of speech—people were not mosquitoes, even in death their bodies wouldn't cover every mountain and plain. But when he approached the frontline military camp, he realized suddenly that "corpses strewn across the fields" wasn't hyperbole at all, but stark realism.
The ground was covered in mangled bodies; blood half-dried into viscous sludge, soaking deep into the earth, like mud after rain, but laced with the unique stench of rotting blood.
