Flesh and blood ripped open, blood splattered everywhere, and the warhorses crashed to the ground. The injuries suffered by the cavalrymen on their backs were even more horrific. Every time they were hit by an armor-piercing bullet, the wound would be a fist-sized hole. Countless men had their limbs severed by armor-piercing bullets and died as they fell to the ground with their horses amidst screams of agony.
In an instant, a large number of cavalrymen fell, their blood and flesh making the scorched ground even more gruesome.
With such high casualties, Riegl, standing among the cavalry, regained some composure. However, the countless armor-piercing shells coming at him left him no time to think for another second.
"Put-put-put-put-put!"
Another chilling burst of gunfire rang out. Before Rigel, who was lying prone on his horse, could turn around, a piece of flesh and blood flashed past his eyes.
It was a fist-sized piece of meat covered in black fur, with a bone embedded inside the broken pieces.
This was the neck bone of a warhorse. The chunks of flesh disappeared in the blink of an eye as it galloped away, but warm blood rained down on his face. The strong smell of blood filled his nostrils, and Liger felt a chill run through his body. Just as he loosened his grip on the reins, the warhorse, its neck pierced by a bullet, crashed to the ground first.
Rigel was thrown off his horse uncontrollably, but before he could roll over, the horse's heavy body carried him to crash heavily onto the hard ground, and he even slid along the ground for two or three meters due to inertia.
With his chest constricted, Rigel was pushed forward by the horse's body, his face scraping against the ground, leaving countless marks on the rough sand and gravel.
"Click, click."
One by one, the bones in his body were breaking. With a "whoosh," Rigel spat out a mouthful of blood. The warhorse was not dead yet, but was convulsing on his body, emitting a shrill neigh.
Rigel's face turned a deep purplish-red as he struggled to crawl out from under the warhorse, but even after his fingernails were completely torn off and his flesh was bleeding, he still couldn't move.
Unable to breathe any more air, Rigl's face turned as red as blood. He stared with bloodshot eyes that almost bulged out of their sockets, but in the end, he lowered his head in resentment.
"hiss--"
The warhorse neighed mournfully, its voice growing weaker and weaker, but even so, it did not breathe its last until a few minutes after Riegl died.
Such is the vitality of animals.
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