Sasha held his breath, using a wooden stick to push aside the wet reeds, looking in the direction of the village commune.
Although he was prepared, when he truly saw everything before him, his teeth still bit through his lip, and a bloody haze covered his eyes.
Thick smoke hovered over the western suburbs of Qila Castle without dispersing, with charred wooden beams thrust obliquely into the blackened earth walls.
A hundred and thirty-seven corpses lay in a radial pattern at the edge of the threshing floor, the oldest woman still maintaining a curled posture protecting her grandchild.
Two charred corpses twisted together like molten bronze artifacts.
The wind swept through the burnt elm trees, lifting fragments of unburned household registration books.
The paper ashes that hadn't yet dissipated clung to the Long-Lived Army Knight's wet chainmail.
