Time slowly dripped away, so slowly it was suffocating. The soldiers watched outside the city walls, but couldn't hold on for long before retreating to find a place to take a few deep breaths of fresh air. Death sometimes evokes fear, but the process of waiting for it is even more oppressive. The soldiers sometimes even thought, no matter what the outcome of this battle was, please let the end come quickly. They have been fighting on the walls for days, their entire bodies full of nothing but pain and exhaustion. At this point, even hope has become a toxin, because hope means continuing to endure the torment on this battlefield.

Unexpectedly, the Snake-men didn't launch an attack during the daylight of this day. They completely lowered their flags and fell silent, only using saliva and curses from afar to assault the city walls. Yet Wislin still dared not rest, for based on the number of Snake-men, there was no need for them to retreat, nor was there any sign of retreat. The Snake-men must have their scheme, and the final moment should soon be here.

"If the Wind Steed Knights are coming to reinforce us, today should be the day," Wislin occasionally looked up at the southern sky, sometimes seeing some small black dots. But when he blinked or lightly rubbed his eyes, he realized those were mere figments of his imagination. The excessive fatigue was nearly crushing his will, burning away his last shred of awareness.

Though, as a Paladin, he should not feel fear, Wislin was now afraid to close his eyes. It wasn't that he couldn't go rest; any of his underlings would urge their general to leave the frontline and quickly catch some sleep. He didn't dare to rest, fearing that when he opened his eyes again, he would have become a prisoner of the Snake-men, and his soldiers were being whipped and abused on the walls they were meant to defend.

The enemy's horn awoke him from all kinds of mentally exhausting thoughts, and the Snake-men finally began their attack again. Wislin opened his lips, but his throat was so hoarse that it was hard to issue commands. A young guard beside him supported him, only to be pushed away. The Paladin walked to the flag bearing the emblem of the Five Realms Fortress, stood in the position he faithfully held every day, and drew his sword.

"Crossbowmen ready, aim for the enemies' throats!" Wislin shouted orders while enduring the ripping pain in his throat: "Show no mercy, no hesitation, no retreat! Give them a gift— their tombstones!"

In fact, he didn't really need to say much, as the crossbowmen were already prepared. They were also aware that their ammunition was running low and that only by conserving could they hold out longer. But what exactly were they holding out for? When would be the end? Even in Wislin's heart, there was no answer.

The first line of the Snake-men assault troops fell, and the second line immediately charged forward. They held loaded crossbows and began counterattacking toward the top of the city walls. Most of the arrows were blocked by the scarred, hard giant stones, but they still caused considerable casualties.

In just a short moment, the rain of arrows shot by the enemy collided mid-air with the arrows from the defending forces behind the walls. A continuous pattering sound descended from above, and the arrows, after colliding, fell with little force. The disparity in numbers immediately showed; when the second wave of Snake-men arrows arrived, Wislin's side hadn't organized an effective counterattack yet—they simply couldn't exhaust their military supplies at the same rate.

"Enemy arrows!" Wislin shouted loudly: "Training teaches you to lift your shield for protection, but courage can fill the gaps of the shield!"

This was the monotonous yet constantly repeating scene at the Five Realms Fortress. Another round of offensive and defensive tug of war began; the Snake-men attacked frantically, seemingly resigned to die, determined to take the Five Realms Fortress today, regardless of the cost. The defending forces felt that today's longswords were duller, struggling to cut through the enemies' bodies. In over ten places, Snake-men had climbed up, requiring reservists to be sent for support, leaving subsequent manpower even more insufficient.

Huge tents were lifted, revealing what had been hidden within. The Snake-men shouted the name "Dragon Head," clearing the way for it. It was a massive battering ram, suspended high on a cart connected by sturdy rods, with enormous iron plate shields covering its top, so that arrows couldn't reach those pushing it from below. Wislin doubted the power of these things because the walls of the Five Realms Fortress were built over centuries by dwarf artisans, and unless the entire land changed shape, the whole mountain range cracked open, nothing could shake these sturdy walls. However, as the leader of the defenders, he could afford no complacency from anything.

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