"Master!"
Yang Mingzhen approached with a weary expression, his eyes filled with complex emotions.
Yang Zhenshan gazed at his blood-stained face and calmly nodded, "How are the brothers doing?"
By the end of the battle, the three hundred cavalry could no longer maintain their original formation, almost completely dispersed.
Yang Mingzhen showed an ugly smile and said, "A few brothers are seriously injured, they are being treated!"
Yang Zhenshan didn't say much, but rode his horse to the injured brothers.
The three hundred cavalry charged against a tribe of ten thousand, battling for more than two hours, their killing enormous, yet the number of injured soldiers wasn't great: only twenty or thirty, and most of them with minor injuries, only six or seven were severely wounded.
After the slaughter, the soldiers' emotions were somewhat somber and complicated.
Their feelings must be like Yang Zhenshan's, chaotic after the frenzy.
