"They... they have left?"
Before Mingzhou Prefecture, a fierce wind blew through the entire battle formation. Dust and stones flew, the ghostly gods wailed, and everyone shielded their faces with their sleeves, their eyes confused and dazed.
When the wind finally stopped, and they opened their eyes again, they saw that the Hu and Meng Families had vanished as if it were all a dream.
Looking ahead at the hungry ghost army, a large number had already died, leaving only their corpses behind, bearing strange expressions—whether of repentance or calm—but none held any resentment.
Of course, not all had died; three to five hundred remained alive, but they had laid down their weapons, kneeling before the city, no longer appearing as the fierce hungry ghosts they once were.
"They..."
Yang Gong was momentarily at a loss, gazing at the spot where a peculiar heavy mace had just been standing, a spiderweb-like pit still marking the ground.
"General, it's time to enter the city."
