April twenty-fifth.
Anyuan City's Garrison Battalion camp welcomed another group of people. They had come to transport the spoils of war, and the one leading them was none other than Wang Sheng.
Wang Sheng had hurried over with three hundred soldiers and more than a thousand laborers.
When Wang Sheng saw those spoils of war, and looked at that mountain of severed heads piled high, envy showed in his eyes.
That was right. He was envious.
He also wanted to go onto the battlefield, wanted to kill enemies and win merit.
But Wang Bin would not allow it, so he could only help Wang Bin handle some logistical affairs.
Being able to come over to transport the spoils of war was already a rare opportunity for him.
"Uncle, ah, what a pity your nephew cannot follow Uncle to fight across the battlefield!"
Standing before Yang Zhengshan, Wang Sheng said this with a miserable expression.
Yang Zhengshan laughed heartily. "There will still be chances in the future!"
That was the only way he could comfort Wang Sheng.
Besides, right now he had neither the leisure nor the energy to soothe Wang Sheng.
Before Wang Sheng could speak, Yang Zhengshan said, "Since you are here, then this place is in your hands. We still need to continue the campaign!"
The Tumege Tribe had been migrating for more than ten days, but they had not moved too far, only to a place more than two hundred li to the north.
They had found a large tribe and were currently living beside it.
A large tribe—that was a tribe with tens of thousands of people.
Yang Zhengshan had long since been itching to go take a look.
Now that Wang Sheng had arrived, he could finally stop worrying about these spoils of war!
Wang