Blood gushed from the neck.
Yuan Kang's body stiffened, his eyes bulged, and he could no longer open his mouth.
"Do it!"
Ao Qi was the first to draw his ring-pommel saber, squeezed his legs against the horse's flanks, and spurred his horse forward.
Behind him, a tide of Red Armor Soldiers surged up around Yuan Kang's carriage in an instant.
This time, while fleeing east, Yuan Kang had only brought his two sons and about a dozen attendants.
The attendants, terrified by the charging Beiyong Army, didn't wait for Ao Qi to act; they dropped their weapons one after another and knelt to surrender.
The autumn wind was cold and piercing.
Yuan Kang's blood splattered on the carriage, creating a dirty mess.
His corpse leaned forward for a good while before slowly falling against the carriage wall, his head hanging out the window, blood pouring down like a small stream.
"Ah—my son—"