thển injuries, the gravel-strewn ground beneath me was slick with a mixture of blood and muddy water. My body ached all over, as if every bone had been shattered and reassembled by a clumsy blacksmith. The humid night air was thick with the stench of decay and gunpowder, a constant reminder that I was still very much alive in the bleakest of ways.

My head throbbed like a dying horse, and every movement sent jolts of pain through my makeshift bandage-wrapped chest. I was in a sorry state, starved, dehydrated, and wounded. Such was the state of affairs when one found themselves transported to the 三国 era without a scratch in the modern world.

I was still trying to orient myself when a chilling realization hit me: I was in the middle of a battlefield. The distant sound of the horns blowing the call of retreat was a familiar tune to any soldier who had seen more than one campaign. The air was thick with the stench of death that hung over any battlefield and the fear that came with knowing that one's life could be snatched away in an instant.