Mu Jiaoman sat in the empty carriage, the roads within Shanyue territory were bumpy and uneven, jostling him about and making him irritable, as the scene on the White Jade Platform repeated itself over and over in front of him.
Throwing aside the carriage curtain, Mu Jiaoman looked at the scorching sun in the sky, and all he saw was a vast expanse of cracked earth. He shouted hoarsely:
"How long has it been since it rained!"
"Replying to the Great Marshal, it has been four months without a single drop of rain!"
Mu Jiaoman thought for a moment, motioned to his subordinates below with a wave of the hand, and called out loudly:
"Withdraw the eastern defensive line, drive the refugees to the east, let them go and wreak havoc on the living."
The subordinates below hesitated for a moment, then replied:
"Once the eastern defensive line is withdrawn, if Li Xiangping escapes..."
"That damn thing is dead!"
