The tragedy within Chang'an city had not ended.
Huang Xianzhi's army cast aside their hypocritical masks and began to rampantly slaughter, pillage, and plunder throughout the city.
Naturally, such actions would incite the discontent of countless citizens.
But no matter how disgruntled they were, there was nothing they could do, for in the face of Huang Xianzhi's six hundred thousand strong army, any resistance would only be met with even more cruel treatment, making it even harder to contain this bloodshed, as if fueling a fire with oil.
Moreover, the ordinary residents of Chang'an, when facing the powerful soldiers, truly had no power to resist; numbers meant nothing.
Yet resentment continued to accumulate.
Someone wrote a poem on the gates of the Ministry of Personnel, mocking the army of Huang Xianzhi that was committing indiscriminate killings after entering the city.
And there were these lines within the poem.
