A row of monks lay neatly on the ground. Some had caved-in chests, some had lost their heads, and others were bent at unnatural angles. In any case, more than a dozen monks had fallen silent forever.
All of this had been caused by Chen Mo. Especially during the final siege by the monks, he had directly smashed several of them to death with the Vajra pestle. They had all been carried over and laid together.
Several more monks had either broken legs or broken arms. One of them lay on the ground, taking in more breath than he let out, clearly on the verge of death. That monk was otherwise intact, but his fifth limb seemed to have been violently struck and crushed. The entire area had caved in and was covered in blood.
Everyone who saw this felt a chill between their legs! Well, those planning to go to Savadika for surgery did not feel quite so chilled, but seeing that everything down there was covered in blood still made them dizzy.
These were all monks who had surrounded Chen Mo and been injured by him. As for the ordinary soldiers, whether wounded or dead, they had already been transported elsewhere.
Now, both the soldiers and the monks were waiting for medical staff. The transcendents in particular were all extremely important, yet so many monks had been lost in a single night. This was truly the greatest loss suffered by Cambodia's transcendent world in recent years.
The leading monk had not been injured. He stood to one side, looking at the dead and wounded monks. The fury in his heart had soared to the heavens, leaving him nearly speechless. All he could think about was how to capture Chen Mo and skin him alive.
"Amitabha!" A Buddhist chant