Rebel prisoners were like lambs being led to slaughter. With their heads bowed, they were strung together with ropes and dragged toward the execution ground in groups. After a burst of gunfire, they fell one by one. Blood mingled with the rainwater, slowly flowing together into a stream.
It was a true river of blood.
Like walking corpses, the rebel prisoners never resisted—not once. They didn't even cry out at the end, right up until they were shot dead.
Executing prisoners not only saved resources but also eliminated a source of instability, sparing the army from having to assign a large number of soldiers to guard them.
Chaka, who felt as if he could share their fate, shuddered from head to toe. He turned around and stammered, "Th-they're killing prisoners, Li Bai! They're killing the prisoners!"
The sight of them being herded together like livestock and shot en masse filled him with deep terror.
"It's just killing people. Nothing worth watching. Let's go!"
Li Bai nudged Old Hei, who was completely at a loss. This wasn't his problem to deal with, and he didn't want to get involved.
Those who killed would be killed in turn.
Most of the rebel soldiers probably weren't innocent, either. Their hands might well be stained with other people's blood.
When local warlords rebelled, they had to bear the consequences.
What's more, in the eyes of the warlord bosses and Government Army big shots, the rank-and-file soldiers on both sides were nothing but livestock that could talk.
The cheapest thing on the African Continent was human life. Tens of thousands of people died every day. Life was practically worthless. As long as you had money, guns, and territory, what was there to fear about raising an army?!
The United Nations peacekeeping force was only responsible