Under the immense disparity in military capabilities, the power imbalance was stark. Lin Xian's mercenary corps overwhelmed the local indigenous armed forces like a father disciplining his child, forcing them into a series of defeats, retreating desperately, with an unstoppable momentum.
Night fell, and the moon rose.
The mercenary corps lit fires for the elderly, children, and disabled left behind in the village, providing drinking water and food for everyone to eat.
Professional medical teams checked the villagers' health, offered basic treatment, and prepared to transport this group of refugees to a safe zone during daylight hours tomorrow via transport vehicles.
By the stone block at the village entrance, Lin Xian and Du Yao sat, holding steaming self-heating meals in their hands.
"I didn't know Tang Xin had passed away until half a month after it had happened."
Du Yao spoke while eating:
