To survive, Luo Yao and the remnants of the Northern Territory under his command had no choice but to return to their old trade, to the most primitive way of surviving they had learned while fleeing after the Southwest Peninsula fell—plundering.
They no longer went near any towns of even modest size, turning their eyes instead to the remote villages scattered among the wastelands and hills, places with weak defenses.
Scouts became raiding vanguards. In the dead of night or in the darkest hour before dawn, dozens of soldiers who still had strength left pounced on their targets like starving wolves.
They quickly smashed through crude fences and wooden gates. They did not kill; they only stole grain, livestock, clothing, and anything edible. The action had to be swift. They had to withdraw with their pitiful haul before the villagers rang the alarm, vanishing into the morning fog or the mountain woods.
Faced with these ragged "soldier-bandits" armed with blades and spears, the mountain villagers could do nothing but hide and weep. Resistance was striking a stone with an egg, and reporting it to the authorities was useless when the authorities could barely protect themselves. They could only treat this disaster from nowhere as another case of "losing money to ward off calamity," cursing this damnable world in their hearts.
When this remnant army struggled to reach the vicinity of Mario Fortress, the situation grew even worse. The area was densely populated, with villages and towns connected to one another, and behind them stood Count Mario's sturdy castle and garrison.
The common folk were full of vigilance and hostility toward Luo Yao's "Guest Army," which looked no different from beggar Bandits. Roadblocks were set up at village and town entrances, and able-bodied youths patrolled with farm tools in hand. Any