The wind and snow had covered most traces of human activity, but larger creatures would not be buried so quickly—let alone a huge pile of corpses.
One bald head after another was lightly covered in ice and snow, yet they still reflected the aurora overhead.
All of the corpses wore white bedsheets and blue cloaks. Their large bald heads gleamed brightly, yet they had been piled together like trash. There were at least several thousand of them, paving a bloody road.
"Are they all dead?" Su Ming pulled out a cigarette, lowered his head to shield it from the wind as he lit it, and took a drag. The biting cold immediately flowed into his chest.
"Ying."
Strangle meant that there were no survivors. They were all completely cold, with no warmth and no heartbeat.
As for whether the entire Watcher race had been wiped out, it did not know. No one knew how many Watchers there were in total.
"Tch. Then there's nothing we can do."
Deathstroke walked along the uneven path formed by piled corpses, yet he looked like someone picking melons in a field, repeatedly tapping bald heads with his fingers as if trying to choose a ripe one.
After taking a few steps, he came to the corpse of an especially large Watcher. Seemingly satisfied with the feedback, he brushed the snow from its bald head and said, "This one. Strangle, see what's in his brain."
Black tendrils flowed toward the corpse lying face-down on the ground and drilled in through its ear. Then came a sound like someone drinking yogurt through a straw.
Yet a few seconds later, Strangle indicated that there was nothing in the other party's brain. Though the organ existed, its function was more like a human heart: it provided the driving