The Jiepeng Soldiers in charge of escorting them wore cold sneers; for once, they couldn't even be bothered to interfere.
In their eyes, these two thousand prisoners of war were already a pile of corpses. Pigs that have entered the slaughterhouse can squeal as impassioned as they like— in the butcher's eyes, it's nothing but a ridiculous performance in their death throes. One stroke of the knife, and all that's left is leg-twitching struggle.
Through the Mecha's long-range viewer, staring at the slowly moving column of prisoners on the wide valley plain, Zhongshan Yi's face remained expressionless.
