As the stench of blood grew thicker, Gu Wenheng and Jin Qianqian's expressions turned increasingly grim, and their pace quickened. Accompanied by agonizing screams and the CLANG of clashing iron, their hearts tightened with dread.
"FUCK," Gu Wenheng cursed. Gripping his machete, he charged forward. Whenever he saw bandits targeting the villagers of Bainiao Valley, he struck ruthlessly, specifically aiming for their weak spots with every swing. Jin Qianqian only hesitated for a moment before raising her own machete and following behind him. If a fallen enemy still showed signs of struggling, she gritted her teeth and went over to deliver a finishing blow. The machetes in their hands were forged from modern refined steel, boasting a sharpness that weapons of this era couldn't possibly match.
Soon, the bandits fell one after another in their wake. It wasn't until the final enemy went down that Gu Wenheng collapsed to his knees, panting heavily.
"Mother, what's wrong?"
