Reaching for the knives dropped by the protectors on the ground, Qin Yuesheng swung them one after another, beheading the fine horses they rode. In a few blinks, the fine steeds had all turned into headless dead horses.
"If you're hungry, you can gather firewood, and I'll help you prepare some horse meat to eat." Qin Yuesheng said, looking at the refugees around him, all gaunt, their faces yellow, and their bones protruding.
"Horse meat!"
Upon hearing these two words, the people's eyes lit up, each seeming like a hungry wolf that spotted food.
"You've got some nerve! How dare you kill my horse!" Zhang Huangzhi was furious upon seeing his beloved horse beheaded by Qin Yuesheng in a single blow.
"I was going to spare your life, but it seems unnecessary now." Qin Yuesheng glanced coldly, and with a flick, a cold light shot out directly, piercing Zhang Huangzhi's throat—it was Qin Yuesheng's flying knife, which he carried with him.
