In the blink of an eye, blood splashed and wails of pain merged into one.
The densely packed masked assassins fell like wheat beneath the farmer's scythe, while those who had dodged the volley viciously charged again with knives in hand.
The embroidered-robed strongmen stood their ground fearlessly, with the front row putting away their crossbows to draw their ox-tail sabers and meet the attack, while those in the back row hurried to reload and prepare for a second volley.
"My lord, how are you?"
Liu Yongguang, the lieutenant in charge of a hundred troops, was commanding the battle while anxiously shouting towards the dark interior of the government hall behind him.
"I won't die!"
A deep and powerful voice came out from the gloomy hall, and moments later Yang Ge's tall and upright figure emerged, dragging his saber step by step from within.
Blood still stained the corners of his mouth, and his steps were uneven as he walked.
