"Who are you? Why are you lying to us..."
Before Bawan could finish a sentence, a short spear suddenly flew out and pierced his eye socket.
Song Liyun pouted. "If you want to fight, then fight. What are you muttering about? I don't understand!"
With Bawan dead, the remaining cavalry scattered in all directions, turning to find their horses and trying to escape.
Only then did they realize that the ten warhorses had vanished.
This is very unusual.
Warhorses that spend every day with their masters will not leave without orders, nor can anyone take them away. But now these masters want to escape, yet they can't find their mounts.
The Ping Shan cavalry had no warhorses; they were just ordinary people.
Seeing the divine messenger unleash his deadly technique, the cavalrymen were powerless to resist. Balin and his people were filled with passion. The two chased each other like demons, killing all ten men.
Blood stained the hundred-foot-long snowfield red, and no one could be seen breathing anymore. Only then did Song Liyun stop her aching hands.
Balin rode over on horseback, carrying a blood-stained knife. His voice trembled as he looked at Song Liyun with some fear: "Divine Envoy, what should we do next?"
His reverence for Song Liyun deepened once again; these were living, breathing people.
When they got to the last two, Song Liyun questioned them.
The two men thought they could escape with their lives, so they told him about their tribe's raid on the Uda tribe. In the end, they were still pierced through the head by a spear.
Song Liyun's eyes still held a murderous glint, and her voice was icy: "Nearly seventy more members of the Ping Shan tribe are about to arrive; we cannot keep them here any longer."
"We can't return to the tribe for the time being, so we want to find Young Master Lin and hide in the snowfield for a while."
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