By this point, Meng Chao and Ice Storm were in no hurry to kill every last pursuer.
In fact, letting these centaur warriors, whose courage had shattered and whose mental defenses had utterly collapsed, survive to find more of their companions and spread fear like a virus—
was more conducive to the ratfolk breaking out than directly destroying their flesh and blood.
Besides, Meng Chao also hoped to use these pursuers' mouths to pass along an important piece of intelligence to the Supreme Experts controlling the Bloodhoof Clan.
So, they slowed their pace and calmly searched the trembling grass for suitable "mouths."
They soon found their target.
Spark had never dreamed that what had seemed like an outing-style hunt would turn into a nightmare-like slaughter.
This young, handsome, tall, and upright centaur warrior had only recently completed his Coming-of-Age Ceremony.
This was his first time following his elder brother and the warriors he admired most in the tribe on a mission.
When they had first entered the Sunken Sky Grassland, the young man, eager to earn merit, had muttered that this mission was far too unsatisfying—what skill was there in slaughtering all the ratfolk?
A warrior like him, whose four iron hooves could stamp out four dazzling sparks with a savage tread, should have been facing the Lion-Tiger Warriors of the Golden Clan, along with the mages and Night Watchmen of Holy Light Land.
Sure enough, yesterday's several battles had been nothing more than a game of cat and mouse. Fights without any challenge could not stir even a shred of spirit in a greenhorn like him.
Even at night, after skinning and pulling the tendons from several surrendered ratfolk, then forcing their blood-soaked, still-living bodies to dance atop red-hot blades—
such ingenious performances had failed to extinguish Spark's