Today, Wanling City was destined to be extraordinary; the streets were thrown into chaos. The City Commandant stood up with the support of his sword, his face pale as iron. The sickening stench of blood lingered in the air, mingling with the sound of sniffling, and the faint smell of urine made his complexion even uglier.
Yet, he had to suppress his rage. As the foremost military officer in Great Qin's cities, the City Commandant ordered the uninjured iron troops to check on the recently wounded, secluded those who were scared half to death, and dispersed the surrounding crowd.
One thing after another came at him like a torrent, causing a throbbing pain in his forehead, lasting until his subordinates reported that although most of the iron troops who had stopped that person had been injured, they were merely flesh wounds at worst with some swelling.
Without a single case of death or even broken limbs among them, his expression finally lightened slightly.
