A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

That night, the moon was bright and the stars were few.

The north wind whipped up the snowflakes on the ground, making a rustling sound as they hit the city walls of Yanmen Pass.

Wei Zhao sat cross-legged on the hard wooden bed, closing his eyes to rest.

He didn't go to Su Qingyun's room, nor did he knock on Liu Jingshuang's door.

Tonight is not a suitable time to continue the incense offerings.

Although his energy was monstrous after his physique exceeded 100, tomorrow was the final battle.

Five hundred thousand Northern Rong troops were lying in wait just three miles outside the city, ready to pounce at any moment.

Wasting energy on women at a time like this is something only a fool would do.

He needs to get both his physical and mental state to their peak.

"Knock knock knock!"

A rapid knocking interrupted his thoughts.

The door was suddenly pushed open, and Su Qingyun walked in without even announcing herself.

She was wearing a heavy fox fur coat, her hair was casually tied up, and she was clutching a tiny piece of paper tightly in her hand.

"Commander-in-Chief." Even her form of address had changed, her tone revealing an barely suppressed urgency:

"That gentleman has delivered a message."

Wei Zhao rolled out of bed and took the paper, which was as thin as a cicada's wing.

The note was delivered wrapped in a wax pellet, and it contained only a few very small words.

He glanced at it and let out a cold laugh.

"Get dressed and go find your mother."

The council chamber was brightly lit. The old matriarch, wearing a cloak, sat regally in the main seat.

Liu Jingshuang stood to the side, her hand still resting on the hilt of her knife.

The note was passed around among several people.

"The Northern Rong army began to slaughter horses on a large scale to satisfy their hunger, and morale among the troops was low."

"Iron Fang Shigeru can't hold back any longer. He has decided to launch a desperate attack on the city tomorrow morning."

Liu Jingshuang read the words on the note aloud, her phoenix eyes narrowing slightly, her gaze as cold as a knife:

"These beasts finally couldn't take it anymore."

The old lady snorted coldly and slammed her iron cane heavily on the blue brick.

"They killed a horse to feed themselves; they were truly starving."

A glint of shrewdness flashed in the old lady's cloudy eyes:

"With 500,000 mouths to feed, people and horses alike were fed, and the family's coffers were emptied in less than three days."

"That one-eyed wolf, Fang Mao, wants to take advantage of his men's last breath and use them to fill the walls of Yanmen Pass."

Wei Zhao's fingers tapped unconsciously on the table.

His brain, brimming with intelligence and command abilities, was working at full speed, and tactical logic was unfolding clearly like a network of veins.

Five hundred thousand hungry Northern Rong soldiers are going to ram the city walls tomorrow morning.

This is like a cornered beast fighting back.

The wolves' last stand is the fiercest. If they were to spread out their formation and attack the city walls, even if the Wei family army could hold out with their stomachs full, their casualties would be considerable.

Moreover, defending the city is too passive a strategy.