The setting sun cast a bloody glow across the ground littered with corpses, and the air was thick with a heavy stench of blood. Zhong Yun sheathed his sword and stood upright, a bead of blood rolling down the blade and splashing a crimson mark into the dust.
"It is over," he said softly. There was no trace of joy in his victory, only a lingering heaviness.
"Yes, it is over." Shen Yao walked up to his side, her cold gaze sweeping across the scattered corpses of the horse bandits. "Yet is it truly over?"
Chapter 17