"Get lost!" The warrior waved his hand, pushing her roughly to the ground. The iron pot was lifted, and the scalding soup splashed everywhere, burning the shepherd's leg, causing him to gasp in pain.
"You bandits!" The shepherd roared, fists clenched, but dared not approach.
The warrior gave him a cold glance, carrying the iron pot out of the tent with brisk steps, leaving a remark without looking back.
"For the Khan's order, for the future of Turkic, what does this sacrifice count for!"
After speaking, they had already taken away the pot along with the food.
The shepherd looked at the empty fire pit, his fist pounding the ground fiercely. His wife sat on the ground, sobbing softly.
"Ever since Bo Lu became Khan, life has been unlivable." The shepherd murmured resentfully, his eyes filled with despair.
For over half a month, such scenes have been simultaneously unfolding on different parts of the grassland.
