If you die, I will be able to inherit your cultivation.

Su Mingyue gazed at the desolate slope in the distance, her hand holding the reins beginning to tremble slightly.

The army behind them also stopped. The 500,000 men were completely silent, with only the howling of the north wind whistling through the wild grass.

A moment later, Su Mingyue dismounted.

Dongmei wanted to follow, but she was stopped by her raising her hand.

"Pass down the order. The entire army shall disarm and march on foot across Wolf Slope."

Su Mingyue's voice was not loud, and her tone was extremely calm.

The 500,000-strong army removed their armor at Wild Wolf Slope.

The clanging sound of the armor plates colliding echoed from the very front of the line all the way to the very back.

The procession, stretching for dozens of miles, receded like the tide. Everyone silently untied their armor straps, held their helmets to their chests, and folded their armor neatly onto the supply wagons.

The white cloth carried by the soldiers was torn into strips and tied to each person's forehead and waist.

The north wind whipped snowflakes against the white cloth, making a rustling sound.

The veterans who followed them from the North did all this in silence.

The surrendered soldiers were initially bewildered, but they were soon subdued by the silent atmosphere and lowered their heads, silently following suit.

Su Mingyue also removed her armor.

She took off the black armor she had worn for most of the year and removed her helmet.

She was only wearing a white undergarment underneath, and the north wind instantly penetrated the thin fabric without her noticing.

I started walking towards Wild Wolf Slope.

The 500,000-strong army behind them also began to march.

No one rode horses or traveled by carriage; even the baggage mules were left behind.

Half a million people formed a long line, turned onto the side road from the main road, and slowly moved forward along the foot of Wild Wolf Slope.

Wild Wolf Slope is still the same Wild Wolf Slope it was back then.

Scattered among the weeds and rocks are countless white bones.

Six months ago, 200,000 northern border troops and Marquis Su Yongning all died in battle on the desolate mountain of Wild Wolf Slope.

No one claimed the body, no one buried it.

The north wind swept across the hillside, rain washed away the debris, and wild animals pecked at the bones, slowly revealing two hundred thousand skeletons from the overgrown weeds.

Broken swords and spears, rusted and scattered among the cracks in the rocks.

Wild grasses on the wasteland grow wildly in the cracks of withered bones.

Some of the skeletons still had their finger bones tightly gripping the hilts of knives that had rusted into slag, and some skulls still had the distinctive eagle-beak iron helmets of the Northern Border Army on them.

Half a million people stopped in their tracks at Wolf Slope.

The north wind howled across the hillside, flattening the withered grass and revealing layers of white bones beneath the grass roots.

Some veterans from the North recognized the armor their comrades wore back then.

But now that armor is worn on a skeleton.

Those familiar faces have now turned into a pile of broken bones.

But the tassel on the hilt was still there, the old strip of cloth wrapped around his arm was still there, and the leather wrist guard that he had tied himself was still attached to the radius bone that had been broken in two.

An old soldier's knees buckled, and he collapsed to his knees before the pile of bones. His hands trembled as he carefully picked up the skull wearing an iron helmet with an eagle's beak, his lips quivering violently.

He held the skull in his arms, as if afraid of hurting something, and gently wiped away the dirt from the crevices of the eye socket with his hand.

Then there was this man who didn't shed a single tear even when his shoulder was cleaved open by a sword on the northern battlefield.

He pressed his forehead against the iron helmet of the skull, trembling all over, crying so hard he couldn't breathe.

One, two, then hundreds and thousands.

The veterans of the North knelt one by one on the barren slope, before the bones of their brothers who had fought alongside them.

The cries and sobs merged into a low, somber sound that drowned out the howling of the north wind.

The surrendered soldiers stood silently behind them. Some knelt down, some lowered their heads and clenched their sleeves, and some turned their faces away, unable to bear to watch any longer.

Su Mingyue stood at the highest point of the slope, her white clothes fluttering in the north wind.

She didn't bend down to look for the skeleton, she didn't kneel, and she didn't shed tears.

She simply gazed at the countless white bones covering the mountains and fields, then looked up at the leaden sky.

The soldiers behind her had no idea what she was looking at.

Dongmei stood at the bottom of the slope, looking up at the young lady.

The figure on the hilltop was thin and straight in the wind and snow, like a silver spear nailed to the north wind.

Su Mingyue took one last, deep look at the barren slope covered with bones.

"Order the entire army to set up camp on the spot and collect the remains of all the fallen soldiers at Wild Wolf Slope."

"Every skeleton must be collected, and every fragment must be picked up."

These soldiers followed my father their whole lives and guarded the northern border with my Su family their whole lives.

"I couldn't bring them home while they were alive, but even in death, I want them to be laid to rest and not left to rot in the wilderness."

The 500,000-strong army dispersed in front of Wild Wolf Slope.

Everyone silently walked into the barren slope covered with bones.

The soldiers bent over, carefully searching through the waist-high withered grass, like a group of survivors searching for their loved ones in ruins.

Some people used knife sheaths to part the dense grass roots, while others simply dug through the hardened soil with their bare hands.

The remains were carefully lifted out of the weeds one by one, the movements extremely gentle and slow, as if afraid of disturbing something.

The intact skull was carefully placed into a stretcher covered with a white cloth, and the broken bones were picked up piece by piece and wrapped in cloth.

The burial process lasted from the afternoon until late at night.

The campfires flickered on the barren slope, like scattered stars reflected on the ground in the night sky.

The soldiers continued their search by the light of the fire; no one complained of being tired, and no one stopped.

The surrendered soldiers were initially just following orders, but later, someone took the lead and they silently knelt in the grass and dug the soil with their hands.

They were once enemies, but these skeletons before them no longer distinguish friend from foe; they are simply a group of people who died on the desolate mountain.

On a sunny, sheltered hillside, the soldiers dug one deep pit after another, arranged in neat rows, just like the formation of the northern border troops when they lined up on the parade ground.

After each set of remains was collected, it was placed in a pit and covered with black soil.

There was no coffin, no burial goods, only white cloth wrapped around the bones and black soil covering the heroic souls.

Once all the remains have been buried.

A huge stone tablet was erected on the hillside of Wild Wolf Slope.

Su Mingyue stood in front of the monument for an entire night, and at dawn she picked up her brush and wrote the inscription.

The characters were clear, strong, and sharp; the ink was not yet dry when the stonemason carved them onto the stone, stroke by stroke, according to her own handwriting.

Each chisel stroke was heavy and steady, sending stone chips flying onto the soil, the chiseling sound echoing across the empty wilderness.

Su Mingyue stood in front of the joint burial tomb, picked up a bowl of wine, and slowly poured it onto the black soil in front of the tombstone.

The wine seeped into the soil, leaving only a dark, damp mark.

The breaths of 500,000 people behind him coalesced into a very low hum, which was dispersed by the north wind across the wasteland.

Donning her black armor once more, Su Mingyue mounted her horse. Her silver spear gleamed with a chilling light in the pale early winter sunlight, and her warhorse reared up and neighed.

"Order the entire army to depart and return to Youzhou."