OFTLHFRO C122

Chapter 122: A Land of Starving Corpses

The cold wind howled.

Luo Mingchen had heard that the roads near the frontier were hard to travel, but he hadn’t expected them to be this treacherous.

The dirt paths were full of pits and hollows, now slick and slippery from the melting snow.

Even with his water ability cushioning the carriage, it rocked violently.

Huo Xinyue was all right—perhaps because she was still young and not easily made carsick.

But Huo Xiang hung limply out the carriage window like his soul had left his body.

At first, he had only vomited, but later Ziyuan gave him and Huo Yuhui each a scented sachet. Since then, they were groggy every day, unable to sleep and with no appetite.

Luo Mingchen had originally thought of letting the two ride horses, but that was even bumpier, and the insides of their thighs would chafe painfully. They had no choice but to remain in the carriage.

If there weren’t so many people watching, Luo Mingchen could have tried something else. But he couldn’t very well put the two of them inside giant water spheres while others looked on.

Using water abilities to fight or kill could still be explained away as martial arts. But water that lingered unnaturally long would look too suspicious.

As they neared Han City, corpses of the starved and frozen littered the road. Groups upon groups of refugees trudged toward other places, clad in rags, faces blank and numb.

Huo Yan dismounted and stopped a few people to ask. Only then did he learn they were from Han City and Bing City.

When the cities had been sealed days earlier, they fled. Many more had escaped before them. Food supplies were short, reinforcements had not arrived in a long time, and with talk of war breaking out, they had chosen to run.

One man, clutching his two children, choked out, “Please, my lord, give us something to eat!”

Huo Yan handed him a packet of rations and called over Xue Kang. “Spread word to everyone—tell the refugees that imperial relief grain has arrived. Have them all return.”

Whether or not the rumors of war were true, staying out in the snow would only mean death on the road. Better to return.

Once back, they could distribute military rations, then plant crops again. At least that was a path to survival.

Inside the carriage, the seasick Huo Xiang mumbled, “Little Daddy, they’re so pitiful.”

Luo Mingchen drew back his gaze and helplessly patted his head. “That’s how it is for the poor. Even if they want to work hard and earn, there aren’t many ways. And here, farming depends on the heavens—if the weather is good, it’s fine, but drought or flood can wipe out an entire harvest.

“If they’re unlucky for three years in a row, then it’s truly devastating. Some think farming is simple—but that’s only because I have the space. Without it, even mutated seeds can’t survive disasters.

“Here, production is backward, tools are few, and the roads are terrible. Just by looking at these refugees, I can already imagine what Han City and Bing City must be like.”

After hearing this, Huo Xiang whispered, “Little Daddy, when we go there, will we starve too?”

Clothing wasn’t an issue—they had enough, and patches could make them last for years.

But if there was no food, wouldn’t they just starve to death out there?

Luo Mingchen couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course not.”

Relieved by the answer, Huo Xiang let out a small sigh.

Huo Yuhui frowned at the sight of the refugees outside. The capital was a land of debauchery, where even an egg could sell for a hundred coins. Yet here, corpses of the starved lay everywhere. The difference was too great.

Were the frontier folk not also citizens of Great Yan?

When the refugees saw the army passing, their eyes turned to the wagons of grain. They spontaneously followed along behind.

After hearing Huo Yan’s order, a faint glimmer of light returned to their gray eyes as they trailed the army back.

Bing City wasn’t far from Han City.

When they arrived, the city lord greeted them with delight. “General Huo, you must be weary from your journey. Why not rest in the city lord’s residence for a day?”

Huo Yan ignored the pleasantries and asked flatly, “How much grain does Bing City have left?”

The city lord hadn’t expected such a question right away. He froze, then forced a laugh. “Not much.”

“If there’s grain left, why hasn’t it been given to the refugees?”

“This…”

The city lord glanced around, then stepped closer and lowered his voice. “General Huo, you may not know. The granary isn’t under my control. A month ago, Grand General Wu took nearly all the grain to the military camp. He said he feared foreign enemies might strike, so he was stockpiling against that. Now the grain left in the stores is only enough for me and the garrison to last half a month.”

Holding little Xinyue’s hand, Luo Mingchen was exasperated. “The people in the city are starving and fleeing, and he’s hoarding grain? Does he want all of Bing City’s citizens to die?”

He wasn’t ignorant—those so-called “grain stores” came from the people in the first place, meant for disasters like this.

Because the capital’s situation was unstable, no aid had come. That so-called Grand General Wu withheld the grain meant for the refugees.

Disgusting!

The city lord’s lips twitched awkwardly. He didn’t dare reply.

That made Luo Mingchen puzzled.

Why was this city lord so cowardly?

Was a grand general ranked above a city lord?

If General Wu wanted grain, the city lord had handed it over, even leaving little for the city’s survival.

If not for fear, why would he stoop so low?

But it was pointless to argue now.

Huo Yan said: “Have some men prepare porridge for the refugees.”

There was grain left, after all. No more excuses.

The city lord eagerly agreed.

Once the porridge was arranged, Huo Yan led the others on toward Han City.

“Why not question that Grand General Wu?”

If even the city lord’s estate had some grain, then General Wu, who had seized so much, must have plenty.

Huo Yan replied: “We’ve only just arrived. Better to see Han City’s situation first. Officially, his rank is higher than mine. It’s best for Han City’s Grand General Hu to handle it.”

The main issue was that Huo Yan could only command the men he’d brought. After such a long, grueling journey, they were exhausted—hardly in shape to confront General Wu head-on.

Heading north, it took them over an hour to reach Han City’s gates.

From the look of it, Han City was even shabbier than Bing City. Because of the fighting, the gates and walls were badly damaged. Repairs were underway, but progress was slow.

When they approached, the soldiers atop the wall shouted, “Who goes there?”

Xue Kang produced a token. “The Second Battalion of the Huo Family Army.”

Only then did the soldiers order the gates opened. After inspecting the token, they allowed them inside.

Over four thousand marched in, while around a thousand Han City citizens watched.

Originally, there had been four thousand in the army, but a few hundred were left in Bing City to distribute the grain.

Han City’s garrison was split between two factions: the Huo Family Army, and Grand General Hu’s forces. Bing City, half the size of Han City, had only General Wu.

Once, Huo Yuntao had been Grand General, but now Huo Yan had come bearing the title of general, one rank lower than Grand General Hu. For most matters, he would need to consult Hu first.