In Yanzhou, the Pudu Cult had lowered its banners and hidden away after its Cult Master was injured, buying Meng Zhao extremely precious time to develop.
In Liang Prefecture, however, all manner of chaos had practically become the norm.
If it was not rioters killing constables and scattering in all directions today, then it was two gangs clashing tomorrow, devouring each other's territory.
Or perhaps the day after tomorrow, some family would be wiped out, all its savings and properties swallowed up by others.
It was a complete mess.
Amid such fierce contradictions and conflicts, more and more refugees flocked toward Lingwu City.
There were simply too many of them, young and old alike, with complicated backgrounds, arriving in an unending stream. Scattering them was not a good solution.
Beitang He ordered a temporary refugee camp constructed and placed these tens of thousands of refugees under military discipline for the time being, with great severity.
Moreover, Beitang He did not simply provide relief to the refugees. He supplied only a small amount of food—just enough to maintain their bodily functions—to prevent so many people, once fed and watered, from causing trouble and disrupting Lingwu City's original stable and peaceful environment.
One should not harbor the intent to harm others, but one must guard against the intent of others to harm oneself. Beitang He remained highly vigilant.
His approach was, in fact, unanimously praised by the local powers, great and small.
If these people ate too well, they might start demanding more. They had to be kept in check.
Among these refugees, aside from impoverished commoners who had suffered disaster and could no longer make a living, there were also quite a few hardened men who had failed in Liang Prefecture's struggles or committed major crimes.
That night, dark clouds covered