Time was like water slipping through the gaps between one's fingers. With the slightest lapse of attention, the turn of a page, two springs and autumns might already have passed.
Two years later.
On the walls of Heaven Dou City, a group of sallow, emaciated men leaned against the parapets, dozing with wooden spears propping them up.
"Food's here! Food's here!"
A potbellied fat man called out, carrying an iron bucket. The drowsy soldiers instantly sprang to their feet.
"Shit! Finally!"
"I'm about to starve to death! Fighting every damned day! We can't even get enough to eat, so what the hell are we fighting for? Might as well surrender!"
"Fuck! Why's today's porridge so thin? Where'd this dishwater come from?"
Holding their bowls, the men stared at the iron bucket full of hot porridge, their Adam's apples bobbing violently and their eyes gleaming green.
But the hot porridge was terribly thin. A few mouthfuls went down like a bowl of water, and their stomachs still ached faintly with hunger.
"Sir, please give us a little more."
They looked pleadingly at the fat man, but he merely snorted coldly and waved his ladle at them.
"One ladle each! That's all! However, mindful of the hardships you soldiers face at the front, His Majesty has specially ordered gifts sent to you."
The fat man suddenly set down his ladle, patted his belly, and, with a faint smile, took a large iron chest out of his Soul Tool.
The disappointed men's eyes immediately lit up again. After years of fighting, all of them had been forcibly conscripted.
Heaven Soul's attacks had grown increasingly fierce, but their pay on the front lines kept shrinking and was sometimes even withheld. At times, they had to pay for their own food and lodging.
Surely these