The sight of mountains of corpses and a sea of blood made Xie Wanqing's soul feel as if she could faintly smell the sweet scent of blood.
And the person who caused all this was now standing at the highest point of the city wall, looking down with lowered eyes. The long spear in his hand that had taken countless lives was stained with blood, dripping down slowly, his eyes cold and indifferent to all life.
The madness in him was hidden beneath this coldness.
Nowhere to be seen.
But Xie Wanqing knew, he had gone even crazier.
He had fallen in love with the feeling of taking lives.
As the ruler of a nation, he had fallen in love with slaughter, with war, with the feeling of walking the line between life and death.
He led his troops personally, not for the country, nor for the people.
It was purely because he wanted to kill.
The sound of a blade cutting through the air came.
Both the person and the soul simultaneously looked at the dark arrow shooting rapidly towards them.
