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While the guards cleaned away the grounds littered with dismembered limbs and blood, Qi Lin and the other barbarian disciples were called to assemble at a barracks and drilling field. Having just witnessed the wretched scene of the dismemberment, many were somewhat feeling ill. Their faces were pale, and they retched.
“I never imagined this King Zhou would be so cruel, to actually treat people’s lives as items for amusement.” Shang Yangjun recalled the scene from a moment ago. The bloodcurdling screams of the Shang Moose Tribe’s disciples echoed in her ears. Although it could be said that she had seen wild beasts eat people when she trained in the wildlands, that she had seen corpses that were even more wretched, this time, she was personally witnessing how one person could treat other humans as tools for amusement; those had been real people, and now, they were dead.
This had been far more shocking than those carcasses. Even the girl, whose heart was as steady as stone, felt endless revulsion.
Qi Lin’s mind was also not very at ease. However, he had experienced much more compared to the girl and was not very affected. He felt only anger and grief. Anger for King Zhou’s savagery, grief for the brutality in the powerless struggle of the weak.
“If you don’t feel well, just vomit. You’ll feel much better afterwards.” Qi Lin patted her shoulder.
“You truly are too cool-headed.” Shang Yangjun sighed.
“Shang Xuan, Shang Yangjun.” Just as the two of them were talking, a husky voice came from the side. They turned to see the towering and powerful Shang Meng run towards them, overjoyed.
“Shang Meng! When did you arrive.” Qi Lin smiled.
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