With grain in hand, there was no panic in one's heart.
The greatest embodiment of this saying was not Zhang Yang, but the old man.
When Zhang Yang told him that they would be stockpiling two hundred thousand jin of grain at Bald Head Ridge Fortress, the old man's expression in that instant seemed to return to when he was twenty.
Then he transformed into a human-shaped squirrel, bounding and hopping as he took several of his sons and sons-in-law and drove the carts like mad toward Black Rock Fortress, toward Tianliang Mountain Great Wall.
Then, at eleven that night, the old man returned, followed by a full fifteen carts loaded with women, children, and the old, weak, sick, and disabled.
Surrounding the carts was a crowd—no, several hundred crippled veteran soldiers, each missing an arm or a leg.
They had all once served under the old man.
This was perfectly normal. The war against the Mirage Demon Soldiers never stopped, year after year and month after month. Aside from those who died in battle, disabled soldiers made up the largest number.
Some of these soldiers had returned to their hometowns. Others had nowhere to go and could only survive outside the Tianliang Great Wall Camp like lonely, wandering ghosts.
When the old man had still been a great general, he had taken excellent care of these former subordinates. But now he could barely protect himself, so he had been unable to spare any thought for these old comrades.
But now, the old man intended to go completely crazy.
"Son-in-law, son-in-law, why don't you go get some more grain from that General Liu? There are still several thousand veteran soldiers outside the Tianliang Great Wall Camp! Several thousand! They're all veterans. As long as there's enough grain, I can bring