The instigator was this scarred man, and his accomplices were the men guarding the pot, but now all of them are dead.
As for the remaining refugees, they were merely poor people who were exploited and enslaved.
There was no point in killing these people, so Zhao Ya turned and left.
After returning home, Zhao Ya put down his gains from this trip, then sat quietly in the courtyard, feeling a heavy weight in his heart.
Zui'Er noticed Zhao Ya's unusual demeanor, but she said nothing, only bringing him a cup of hot water and sitting silently beside him, resting her head gently on his shoulder.
After a long while, the sky had completely darkened, and only then did Zhao Ya stand up, letting out a slow breath.
"Zui'Er, make dinner!"
"Okay, Ya, what would you like to eat?"
"Stew!" Zhao Ya said almost through gritted teeth.
"Alright!"
After dinner, Zhao Ya began his training.
With the practice of the Eight Vajra Skills, Zhao Ya's previously knotted mood gradually unraveled.
