Inside the tent were people.
Living, breathing people.
Men and women, a total of seven or eight people, all had their hands and feet tied with hemp rope and their mouths gagged with rags.
Their eyes were not as numb as the roving bandits; their lively eyes showed their fear.
Zong Shen focused slightly.
The golden strategy hints arrived as expected.
(These poor indigenous people were plundered by the roving bandits; if you are willing to rescue them and provide food, they will be loyal to you, and your territory lacks manpower)
So, it was just ordinary indigenous people, with a background similar to the three foolish farmers.
Zong Shen sighed in relief, putting down the kite shield.
By this time, Luna had already thrown the corpse into the bonfire.
Let it turn to ashes, no longer subjected to desecration and pain.
She also saw those poor creatures in the tent who had been plundered and spoke voluntarily.
"Lord, our territory needs population."
