Between the thin wind and rain, a headless corpse rushed across the street, pursued closely by a dozen riders.
With a shout from the Ming Army chasing the monstrous corpse, the soldiers guarding the city gate immediately lifted the heavy wrought iron bolts, and the massive gate closed shut like a giant mouth.
The headless corpse was almost entirely stained with blood, its skin displaying a sinister purplish-black hue, fingers broad and joints enlarged, moving swiftly like a tiger or leopard—it was not at all inferior to the horses.
The monstrous corpse snapped the neck of a refugee who failed to dodge in time and threw the body at the pursuers behind it; the corpse tumbled three or four times in the air before smashing into the lead horseman.
The rider didn't hesitate, channeling all his strength into the long knife in his hand, his tongue pressing against his upper teeth, and with the horse's momentum, he slashed forward!
