Too many, rows and rows of wooden carts were pushed into the field, and in an instant, it became full, piling up like dozens of small mountains.
But before this shock subsided, they suddenly heard someone atop the slope of the pass blowing a whistle.
Turning their heads hurriedly to look, they saw on the mountain beams of wood being drawn apart, and at the pass, baskets and piles were placed, netted with fishing nets, enclosed with wooden fences, a wave of human heads rolled down.
Densely packed, like a landslide, looking at it, it seemed endless; some heads rolled so quickly they nearly reached their feet.
Among them were men, women, the elderly, children, even some who seemed less than a year old, like bloody gourds, all pressed together, hair and fresh blood, the terrifying wounds on their necks, stuck together.
"This..."
Looking at those heads, already chilling enough, let alone in such quantity?
