Dozens of corpses had their heads chopped off, some not yet fully dead, spurting blood everywhere as their heads were severed, then wrapped carelessly in a piece of black cloth and hung on the rear of a horse.
Ye Wenzheng swallowed hard, realizing for the first time that human life was worth so little.
In the distance, a similarly black-clad masked figure stood atop a bamboo tip, expressionlessly watching the bloody scene below. The transparent porcelain bottle in their hand suddenly stirred, and the masked figure discreetly covered it with the sleeve before quickly departing with a light tap of their toe.
Below, Sikong Mo seemed to sense something, looking in the direction the masked person had left. He lightly touched his chest, suppressing that bit of restlessness.
Ye Jiu turned her head and caught Sikong Mo's deeply furrowed brow.
