Just as two groups were in a fierce battle in the dense forest, on the other side at the foot of Beimang Mountain, in the nearly as dark night, a few cries of despair were drowned out by the unusually turbulent waves of the Yellow River tonight, but the smell of blood couldn't be concealed, permeating the night sky, though it was quickly swept away by the icy night wind.
A few tall soldiers dressed in black stood amidst the bloody wind.
And beneath their feet lay four or five corpses sprawled in disarray.
The middle-aged man leading them, after getting the answer he wanted, twisted the neck of the last survivor in his hand. Still not reassured, he squatted down to carefully check again, confirming that the other scouts on the ground had already breathed their last, he finally breathed a sigh of relief and then frowned as he said to a soldier beside him, "Ah Jing, I've told you to be careful when striking, try not to tear the clothes, look!"
