Morning sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tents, yet the detention room remained bitterly cold. In the interrogation chamber, the clatter of iron instruments mingled with footsteps. Slock and his men had worked the spy half to death, his face covered in blood and sweat. Their methods were clean and efficient, driving straight at the spy's mental breaking point.
Ang had not personally taken part in the interrogation. At the start, he had merely stressed one point: "Verify the intelligence three times. Make sure there isn't a single false detail." He left the rest to Slock and the experienced guards. He knew these veterans were thoroughly familiar with handling such matters.
Several hours later, Slock entered Ang's office looking exhausted, carrying a neatly organized stack of intelligence reports.
"My lord, the spy has confessed everything. We verified it three times, and there should be no issue with the reliability of the intelligence." Slock placed the reports on Ang's desk, confidence coloring his tone.
Ang flipped through the reports, and his brow gradually furrowed. "They have that many people?"
Slock nodded. "My lord, according to the spy, their total numbers are close to four thousand. But most of them are slaves. There are fewer than five hundred true elite fighters."
Ang lightly tapped the tabletop, his voice low. "It seems those bandits have turned the Northern Barbarian Lands into their rear base. Aren't they afraid of barbarian attacks?"
Slock shook his head, his expression complicated. "My lord, according to the spy, their leader has reached some kind of agreement with the barbarians. In an emergency, the bandits can even use the barbarians' strength to fight outside enemies."
Ang gave a cold laugh, contempt flashing through his eyes. "The barbarians are notorious for breaking their word. Cooperating with them is like