Looking at the houses that were as desolate as ruins, Moliat led the horse with a composed expression.
Soon after, Lannes came up to him and said, "Your Highness, we haven't found any survivors. They must have left five days or even a week ago."
"A week ago..." Moliat squatted down, pinched up a handful of black ash, "We defeated the Broken Stone Plain army just five days ago. Could they predict it?"
"I don't know," Lannes was just as puzzled, "These houses were burned at least five days ago, at the very least five."
This was a village in the Nanbo River Valley, and at this moment, it seemed like the Fire Prison had revived.
Some of the oats in the farmland had been harvested earlier, leaving only a stubble of thorny stems.
The rest couldn't be harvested in time and were simply set on fire.
The sheep pens had all been torn down, and the ground still bore chaotic hoof marks.
The thatched huts made of mud and branches now stood as nothing more than waist-high remnants of walls.
