Wang Liangchen's words choked Badulu so much that he didn't dare to say it anymore, Mongolia measures men with courage, and those who don't have courage have no status, and the commander wants to fight his subordinates If he advocates avoiding war, the boss can cut off the heads of his subordinates at any time.

Badulu was kind but was deflated, and went down to rectify the troops and horses, and the other Mongolian generals naturally no one touched this moldy head again, although all the people could see that Wang Liangchen was the head of blood, regardless of whether he cared about the overall situation or not, he had to fight with the Song army on Qingniling to the end.

In the course of the Mongol army's conquest, this situation is not uncommon, in the years of the western expedition, Genghis Khan did such things many times, many of the slaughter of the city occurred after the defenders were defending the city by the Mongols regardless of the cost, in the language of the Mongols, this is a deterrent, in order to let other enemies see, how miserable the consequences of the Mongol army are.

It makes sense to do this, the left and right Mongolia to conquer other countries, the plan is population and land, it doesn't matter if it's early or late, anyway, the military food is all by plunder, there is no logistical pressure, and there is no problem of combat time limit due to the problem of food and grass with the army, and it will not be like the Song army, which often falls into the dilemma of having to return to the dynasty without food.

Wang Liangchen didn't believe in this evil, he stood there, staring at the mountain with big bloodshot eyes, he had to take this mountain.

Wang Liangchen is ruthless, and Na Tuozhi is also ruthless.

It's just that Na Tuozhi's ruthlessness has a bleak taste.

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

On several occasions, the Mongol soldiers had successfully crossed over and swarmed towards the top of the Iron Mountain, and it was Natuozhi himself who led the hundreds of people around him as reserves to launch a counter-charge to suppress them.

These hundreds of people, all of them have a heavy armor similar to a ghost, an iron face to cover their faces, a long iron leaf skirt that hangs down to their knees, and there are also iron shin guards on the calf bones, and the whole body is wrapped in iron except for the eyes, like walking iron figurines, although the hands are not expensive Mo knives, but the long-handled heavy axes are also intimidating, when they condescendingly rush down like a landslide, the weight of the flesh and armor alone is unstoppable, and the Mongolian sabers can't cut through the arrows and can't shoot, they are washed to pieces, and the iron mountain can be defended.

Another wave of Mongolian charges was defeated, and the battlefield was temporarily calm.

On the front slope of the Iron Mountain, the trees have long been cut down, and some of the remaining stumps and shrubs emit wisps of smoke and dust from the rocket burning into the sky, and on the reddish-brown earth, large areas of blood stains stained the ground even redder, and the layers of corpses are like cruel performance art, turning this originally verdant mountain peak into a sea of slaughter.

"Drink!"

A Song soldier exerted his strength and slashed the heavy axe in his hand, splitting the head of a Mongolian soldier in front of him whose stomach was broken, but still waving his blade and lying on the ground to attack him, splashing red and white on the ground.

The sky was getting late, the blood-colored sunset was slowly falling westward, the curved moon slowly rose into the sky with Bo Xi, the light became more and more blurred, and the fight of the Song soldiers to slash and kill the half-dead Mongolian soldiers was the last fight of the day.

Natozhi sat on a stone not far away, watched his men pull the heavy axe out of the head of the Mongol soldier, and spat on the ground.

He was covered in sweat, and the sharp blade of the long, bloody knife was like a saw. The iron helmet on his head was taken off and put beside him, his hair was soaked with sweat, as if he had been fished out of the water, the heavy armor on his body was full of knife marks and arrow marks, and a place on his shoulder was particularly hideous, where there was a deep knife mark from the shoulder to the chest and abdomen, which almost broke through the armor, and the Mongolian soldier who gave him this knife must have been extremely powerful.

After a few breaths, Na Tuozhi took a water bladder handed to him by the soldier and poured a sigh of relief.

"How many brothers died today?" He wiped his mouth and asked.

The soldier who handed him the water bladder was not tall, his skin was not as dark as that of ordinary brute soldiers, his appearance was even a little delicate, and he was not very old, he was a clerk in the army, generally speaking, such a person would not take a knife into battle, but at this moment this clerk was also wearing leather armor, and his body was red and white covered with blood.

The clerk took out a book from his bosom, which was placed close to his leather armor, kept it very carefully, turned a page, and read: "According to the statistics just now, there are 256 killed in the battle today, 700 wounded and 69 wounded, and 410 seriously injured and unable to hold a knife. ”

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

Na Tuozhi listened quietly, his face was joyless and carefree, and he was very calm.

After seven days, he was numb.

Being able to hold on until now is already the limit, not only the physical limit, but also the spiritual limit.

It is also a loss that the Shimen Fan barbarians are the backbone, and the 3,000 soldiers from the middle of the river are also veterans who have seen blood, not like the chicks who have not been on the battlefield, with firm will and quality, and they are not afraid of death, so that they can firmly support the iron mountain under the leadership of Natuozhi until now.

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

Life and death, hearing in his ears, are just numbers.

"So...... there will be only more than 2,000 people who can stand with a knife tomorrow." Na Tuozhi picked up the long knife that was missing countless small openings, rushed down with the tip of the knife, held the handle of the knife with both hands, and said to himself tiredly: "Maybe it's less than two thousand." ”

The clerk licked his lips and didn't say anything.

His right hand had been trembling slightly, a little nervous and uncontrollable, because he had swung the knife too many times during the day, with too much force, and muscle spasms.

Even the clerks went into battle to cut people with knives, and the oil on the Iron Mountain has indeed run out of oil, and it has reached the limit.

"Just hold on a little longer." Na Tuozhi stood up, and the night wind blew his hair, and the cool feeling was extremely comfortable.

That well-defined face was as resolute as a knife and axe under the cold moon.

The clerk blinked, and he could hear Na Tuozhi say it every day.

"Once, if there is no problem, you will definitely be able to persevere." Na Tuozhi repeated, holding the iron helmet around his waist and holding the knife in one hand, and walked towards the mountainside. Many Song soldiers are lighting torches there, the night is not a peace of mind, the Mongols like to play a little yin, night raids are their often engaged activities, these seven days are not less than three times, the torch can illuminate the front of the mountainside, so that the enemy who touches it in the dark has nothing to hide.

Na Tuozhi walked over, encouraged them one by one, patted this one on the shoulder, touched the other's head, looked at the place where the wounded man was bandaged, and checked that the arrows that had been sent down to pick up during the interval in the battle were useless, and finally threw off his arms, and together with the soldiers, he seized the time to dig a ditch and carry stones in preparation for the next battle.

The Iron Mountain is very high, from the peak of the highest point, you can see in all directions, the white river that is like a jade belt in the moonlight circles around the Qingniling, and then flows to the east, like a giant hand that gently wraps the Qingniling, gently protecting this mountain in its arms.

In the shadow of the night, on the side of the river where the moonlight does not shine, a raft is moving slowly along the river, the long penny is dotted in the water, making a suppressed noise, and the crowd of people on the raft is bowed down, like a group of leopards waiting for an opportunity in the dark, are deliberately hiding their sharp claws, waiting for the opportunity to rise.

Zhang Yu, the confidant general of Wang Kui, the Sichuan envoy, is the strongest leopard among them.

The 10,000 Sichuan reinforcements he led traveled long distances to the foot of Qingniling at this critical point.

(End of chapter)