Several armored guards hauled Sima Zhao onto a carriage.
Even as he was lifted onto it, his whole body was still shaking.
He had not even grasped what had happened.
He remembered his personal guards fighting Yin Damu's Rebel Army, the two sides locked in a stalemate. His trusted aides had escorted him through Yin Damu's encirclement, trying to join up with the battalions from Hebei.
Then, at that very moment, cavalry had come galloping from the distance, their faces indistinguishable in the darkness.
He had seen the man swing his horse lance, sending everyone in his path flying, flesh and blood scattering as he crushed his way through. Within moments, he had reached Sima Zhao. The great lance swept across, and Sima Zhao saw the heads of the two personal guards standing before him burst apart, splashing blood all over him.
Sima Zhao had wanted to scream, but his strength had deserted him in an instant.
No matter how he tried, he could not make a sound. His legs gave way, and he fell to the ground in terror. They felt as though they weighed a thousand pounds, and he could not move them.
Amid that terror, the man struck again. Sima Zhao had already braced himself for death, only to feel his body grow light. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself tucked beneath someone's arm in an utterly humiliating position. Just like that, he was carried through layer after layer of encirclement, with no one daring to stop them.
Then he was dumped before Cheng Cui.
At that moment, he understood that Cheng Cui had betrayed him too, but Sima Zhao no longer had the strength to curse the rebel before him.
Wen Yang's charge had simply scared the courage out of him.
Wen Yang