"Mr. Zheng, we're barely holding on!"
Zhao Wu endured for half a day, his face dark and eyes dull, his voice weak: "Of thirty thousand, over six thousand are dead or wounded, and some soldiers have fled. The remaining soldiers have lost their morale."
Lu Cheng was even more anxious, with reddened eyes he asked Zheng Chen: "If the attack is this fierce again tomorrow, I'm afraid we won't be able to hold out. What should we do next? Should we simply raise the white flag and surrender?"
Zheng Chen's expression abruptly changed, his voice sharp and stern: "The great cause has not succeeded, we absolutely cannot surrender!"
In his urgency, Lu Cheng spoke without thinking: "We're almost losing our lives, what great cause is there to hold on to? If we continue like this, when the city is breached, you and I will both be executed brutally. If we surrender now, perhaps we can still plead for a path to life."
