Taking Charge

The steel blades were raised again, fists came down once more, and the cash boxes in the commoners' arms were forcibly snatched away before being smashed viciously onto the ground.

Copper coins scattered across the ground, clinking and clanging.

The cries on the street rose again, even shriller than before.

A cold glint flashed through Shen Hui's eyes.

With his sword fingers joined, a streak of sword light shot from his fingertips, swift as a flash of lightning.

The sword light merely circled the street once, followed by a series of soft hiss, hiss, hiss sounds, as clean and crisp as paper being cut.

Those raising blades, stripping clothes, and dragging people away... in the blink of an eye, they became chunks of flesh raining down from the sky, mixed with scraps of iron armor and clothing as they pattered over the ground.

The long street fell abruptly silent.

Blood rained over the bluestone paving and over the faces of the commoners.

They stood where they were in a daze, tear tracks still hanging on their faces.

The next instant, the crying began anew.

Some fled in wild panic to search for their wives, children, and elderly parents. Others threw themselves beside the corpses sprawled across the street and wailed bitterly.

An old woman wiped blood from a corpse's face with her hand, endlessly muttering, "My son... my son..."

The child who had been thrown into the middle of the street was already back in his mother's arms. Mother and child huddled in a corner by the wall, weeping together.

Shen Hui turned around, his gaze falling once more upon the iron-masked man on horseback.

Officer Chen's hand had already settled on the hilt at his waist, yet he did not draw it.

His gaze swept over the wreckage littering