Lin Mo tapped his fingers against the stone parapet, watching the vast expanse of kneeling giants below.
“General Meng,” Lin Mo said, his tone casual. “Open the outer gates.”
General Meng choked on his breath. “Open the gates?! Chairman Lin, there are ten thousand demonic brutes down there! Even without their axes, their physical brute strength could crush our outer barricades!”
“Look at their hands, General,” Lin Mo replied, pointing down into the torchlight. “Their wrists are swollen like ripe eggplants. If any of them tries to throw a punch, their meridians will burst into purple mush. Besides, they already tossed their weapons into a scrap heap.”
Chu Lingxiao leaned over the edge, her frost blade resting lightly in its scabbard. “Brother Lin is right. There is no blood lust in their aura. Only sheer panic.”
“Open the gates,” Lin Mo repeated. “Escort them to the wide plaza outside Taichu Hospital.”
Ten minutes later, the massive iron gates of Taichu City groaned open.
Five hundred city guards lined both sides of the boulevard with raised shields and spears. Yet their defensive stance proved entirely unnecessary.
