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After Zhao Qinghe and the other guards had ridden several more kilometers, they suddenly came upon corpses strewn across the road. Blood stained the ground in broad patches, and the sight made their hearts jolt.
They leaped from their horses to inspect, only to find the dead were all strangers, and they recognized none of their faces. They also caught sight of weapons scattered across the ground, though whose they had been was impossible to say.
“Mount up! Quickly!” Zhao Qinghe barked, his chest tight with dread.
The riders lashed their horses into a gallop, whips cracking through the air, and pressed on with all haste. At last, the column came into view ahead.
Commoners still trudged along beside the wagons and carriages. From a distance, everything seemed… normal?
Zhao Qinghe and Mao Tao exchanged a doubtful glance, their tightly clenched hearts easing ever so slightly.
The column looked completely...
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