The Lizardfolk had been utterly overwhelmed. They were now like the human villagers who had been ambushed at the very beginning: the warriors in the village were slaughtered batch by batch, while the remaining elderly, weak, women, and children let out terrified cries. Some feral Lizardfolk charged forward recklessly, but before they could get close, Heavy Crossbows shot them down. The White Horse Guard were well-trained Regular Army troops. Their class levels might not have been high, and they might not have matched Adventurers of the same level in single combat, but once they formed the battle formations they had trained in for so long, their strength multiplied.
Warriors with at least 100 points in Block used shields and shortswords to defend and counterattack, advancing through the village bit by bit. The dispersed light infantry behind them dealt with the stragglers, killing every last one, whether elderly, weak, woman, or child, without the slightest mercy. Just as the Lizardfolk had shown no sympathy or pity for human women and children during their initial ambush, members of the same species might spare the elderly and young when fighting each other, but there was no such softness in war between races.
If these Lizardfolk children were not killed, they would grow up harboring hatred. If the women were not eliminated, they would bear even more children.
Clashes between races were struggles for living space. Humanity was far from as powerful in this world as people imagined, and it still retained primitive traditions in dealing with foreign races: kill them whenever possible. Kill them until they no longer dared approach human settlements. Kill them until, when they ambushed ordinary people, they remembered the consequences of provoking revenge from humanity. Otherwise, the villages around White Horse City would have difficulty surviving for long; other