The transport truck stopped at the village entrance, its wheels sinking into the mud.
The doors swung open, and more than a dozen mercenaries jumped out.
The leader tossed away his cigar, tucked a roster under his arm, and walked to the middle of the clearing.
"Line up according to your cabin numbers."
The villagers immediately began moving.
Shak squeezed into the front row, craning his neck to peer into the truck. Bai Zhu stayed behind the crowd, using the people around him to hide himself. Milluki lagged more than ten steps behind, while Piyu found a place to hide and observe. None of the three got too close.
The rear doors of the truck opened.
Several sacks of cassava were unloaded first, followed by four baskets of potatoes and two baskets of cured meat. When the food hit the ground, the villagers did not even glance at it. Hundreds of eyes looked past the food baskets and fixed on the depths of the truck.
Two mercenaries worked together to carry out a black iron chest.
The sound of breathing immediately grew heavier.
Several villagers at the front edged forward, soles pressing against heels as the people behind them shoved. The line gradually compressed, and Bai Zhu was squeezed against Shak's back.
Shak's shoulders trembled nonstop as he muttered two words.
"Give it to me, give it to me."
The latch on the iron chest sprang open.
Rows of paper packets lay inside, each containing three pills. The pills were grayish-brown, their surfaces uneven and pitted. A distorted D was printed along the edges of the packets, and black powder clung to the outside.
Bai Zhu's nostrils twitched.
The smell was bitter, mixed with the stench of cured meat and sweat.
The moment the people in front saw the medicine,