Human Hearts and the Apocalypse

An Yang walked among them without drawing anyone's notice.

A thick stench of blood hung in the air, corpses lay scattered everywhere, and wooden houses burned around the place, some already reduced to charcoal with only white smoke rising from them.

It seemed that after the city gate was breached, both sides had engaged in another round of close-quarters combat in the alleys, which ultimately ended in Old Ghost Luo's victory.

And it had happened only a short while ago.

As for what followed the victory...

An Yang unconsciously frowned.

He could faintly sense the bloodlust that had once existed in this city, followed by a despairing cruelty. Pausing and closing his eyes, he seemed to still hear the roars and battle cries that filled the entire city.

The clashing of weapons and the sound of sharp blades slicing into flesh were completely different from the wars in film and television; there were no stirring, magnificent melodies, no trading blows back and forth, and no heroic coloring of a general charging ahead alone. There was only a group of crudely trained men, a group of peasants who had picked up weapons, engaging in a life-or-death butchery.

Even in terms of technique, it was no more brilliant than a brawl between street ruffians; the only difference was that the scale was grander, more cruel, and bloodier, and the losers would lose everything!

When the attacking side achieved victory, they began their inhumane acts against the homeland that the defending side had sworn to protect with their lives.

The defeated were slaughtered, lined up kneeling, and had their heads hacked off in unison. Fresh blood spurted out, flowing down the uneven stone-paved street and spreading apart.

The invaders rushed into houses the moment they saw them, killing people on sight and looting