The government affairs arrangements on Xue Qingyao's side soon came to an end. Yang Feng's military arrangements were even simpler. After everyone discussed the proceedings for tomorrow's Public Trial Assembly, they hurried back to prepare.
The next day.
The sky had only just begun to brighten, but the entire Clear Spring Valley was already bustling.
The local people had organized a group of able-bodied youths to chop firewood and carry water, delivering it to the camp kitchen for use. Everyone in the kitchen was a logistics soldier from the Han Army, so the food they made naturally had the distinctive flavors of the Han Tribe.
As an outer member of the Golden Crow Guard, Brother Xun naturally served as a mouthpiece. On one hand, he followed the Han Tribe's arrangements and leaked information to the local people. On the other, he monitored the local people's opinions and attitudes toward the Han Tribe. If they showed any discontent, he would report it at once.
At that moment, Brother Xun was helping at the camp kitchen with several companions who had once shared the same tent, handing out food to the local people.
A long table stood in front of the kitchen's shelter. A bamboo-woven winnowing basket sat on it, piled high with cornmeal mantou like a little mountain, constantly giving off sweet, steaming heat.
The people lining up for food kept sniffing. This was something they had never eaten before, though it was still made from their own corn.
"Ma, what kind of food is that? It smells so sweet!"
A barefoot little girl followed beside her mother and pointed curiously at the mountain of mantou at the front of the line. Saliva unconsciously dripped from her mouth. Faced with the temptation of steamed, risen mantou, she had not the slightest