After leaving the wounded soldiers' camp, Ang headed for the logistics department without stopping for a moment.
His expression was steady, but his steps were exceptionally swift, as though some unease were burning in his heart.
The camp's logistics area was already piled high with spoils recovered from the battlefield. Lizardmen bows, bone blades, and torn beast-hide clothing lay scattered atop several carts, still carrying the faint stench of blood and beasts.
When the logistics officer saw Ang arrive, he hurriedly stood at attention and saluted, looking somewhat nervous.
Ang waved a hand, signaling that there was no need for ceremony, his gaze fixed directly on the piled spoils.
"Which of today's spoils are here?" Ang asked, his voice low and firm.
"Uh... sir, please follow me." Though the officer clearly did not understand Ang's purpose, he respectfully led him toward a large cart covered by canvas.
The moment the canvas was lifted, the mingled smell of blood and wet earth hit them head-on.
The cart was filled with Lizardmen weapons. Most eye-catching were the bone longswords, some chipped all along their edges while others remained as smooth as new.
Ang lowered his head and rummaged through them, selecting several well-preserved bone blades, then a few whose edges had been badly shattered.
His fingers lightly rubbed the blades, and his expression grew increasingly grave.
Unable to hold back any longer, the officer beside him asked quietly, "Sir... what are you looking for?"
"Seal them up." Ang replied coldly without further explanation, then turned and left with the bone blades.
After returning to his tent, he laid the bone blades out one by one on the table and carefully examined the edge and structure of each.
The result made him frown—aside from their unusual material, these bone blades showed no trace