An hour later, the scorching sun blazed like fire, leaving the entire Yanyue City exposed under its searing heat, with even the green leaves at the treetops curling as if they might burst into flames.
Yet, in this sweltering weather, almost all the commoners lined up, standing under the blazing sun.
Instead of complaining, each had a beaming smile, filled with hope as they gazed forward.
And ahead of them was the entrance of a small, nameless temple.
A grain transport cart was parked under a large tree outside the temple, with a wooden table set beneath it. Mu Xian, accompanied by a few subordinates, sat there, pulling bags of grain off the cart. After opening them, he used a wooden scoop to scoop out the grain, which the person at the front of the line immediately received in their rice bag, leaving joyfully thereafter.
Next in line, another person eagerly awaited their turn to receive grain in their rice bag.
