Accompanied by that aged voice, Anke raised his head and looked at the vehicles around him. "But these are all big trucks for hauling cargo. We won't be able to go fast in them."
"Did those attackers come in big trucks too?" the old voice asked casually.
"Right!" Anke suddenly realized. "Those guys came to hijack a caravan, so they definitely had Off-road Vehicles."
He glanced at the dim night around him, then at the vultures circling in the sky, lowered his head, and began searching along the convoy.
"Old man, what do you think these people were? Bandits?" As he walked, Anke looked at the cargo compartments of the trucks around him.
Every driver and passenger in the cabins had been killed. All that remained in the driver's seats was dried blood.
Bright moonlight spilled down from the sky, illuminating those silent patches of dried, dark red one after another, making them seem eerie and terrifying.
"What do you think?" the old voice asked.
"I don't think these people were professional bandits," Anke said, scratching his head. "They clearly didn't have enough manpower, and I don't see any trucks they drove here themselves. If they wanted to rob the place, they should at least have kept the drivers alive to help them haul the goods. And their movements and equipment were all like professional mercenaries, not bandits."
At this point, he paused slightly. "At least, the bandits I've seen weren't this impressive. Bandits always avoid mercenaries."
"If they were professional mercenaries, why would they attack these people?" the old voice asked slowly.
"I don't know," Anke sighed. "This is too complicated. Maybe they were under orders or something?"
As they spoke, he had already reached the rear side of the whole convoy. It was a hillside, and several Off-road