Chapter 37

Chen Qinglin and the others had been anxiously waiting, only relaxing once the signal smoke faded away, though they still worried about the casualties at the border. Now, seeing Yang Tian return, followed by a herd of cattle, sheep, and other supplies, they were utterly astonished. It was obvious these were spoils of war. Yet, as the defenders of Desolate City, even if they had repelled the barbarian invaders, how could they possibly have gained such bounty?

“Lord of the city, how did the battle go?” Chen Qinglin asked immediately. This time, the signal smoke had burned for far too long. Normally, three columns of smoke would not last so long. In past wars, word of the outcome was swiftly sent back, but this time, nothing; they could only wait in anxious silence.

“They’re all here; see for yourself,” Yang Tian replied, handing him several sheets of paper.

These contained the results of the conflict.

Chen Qinglin opened them eagerly, quickly scanning through, his heart overwhelmed with shock, mouth agape and unable to close for a long time.

The other officials crowded around him without a care, craning their necks to see.

All at once, they were stunned into silence.

Every line of information seemed to challenge their very understanding.

The Tuck and Cedar tribes had joined forces, sending four hundred and fifty cavalrymen. Their side had annihilated all four hundred and fifty enemy soldiers, with eighty-six casualties. They had captured four hundred and thirteen warhorses, weapons...

Three hundred men were dispatched to launch a swift attack on the Cedar tribe, killing one hundred and twenty-seven barbarians, seizing...

The victory was so complete that it was hard to believe, even with the results laid out before them.

When had Desolate City become so powerful?

It was as if the Cedar tribe had been wiped out, the Tuck tribe scattered.

On closer reflection,

Last time, they had slain hundreds of wild beasts.

This time, such remarkable feats could only be credited to the lord of the city.

They looked at Yang Tian, their eyes filled with amazement, respect, and awe.

Who could have imagined that the once destitute Yang Tian would prove so strong and mysterious?

Yang Tian, unfazed by their stares, pointed to the livestock behind him. “Master Chen, I'll leave these for you to arrange.”

Chen Qinglin was delighted by the reward, but then helpless. The haul was great, yet Desolate City was incapable of raising so many animals.

There was plenty of wasteland around the city, covered in grass, and they were continuously clearing it by hand. True, the animals ate grass, but not the wild weeds growing here—only certain tender, juicy forage plants and carefully prepared feed, otherwise they would not survive. This was why Desolate City had no animal husbandry. In the city, there were only a few oxen for farming.

“Lord, it’s difficult to raise them...” As a subordinate, he ought to solve the problem, but Chen Qinglin could think of no solution. He didn’t want the hard-won spoils to perish under his care, so he could only complain.

“I know. Just find a plot of land to settle them for now; ten days or so will be fine. Solutions will come,” Yang Tian replied, not intentionally making things hard for Chen Qinglin and the others. He understood the difficulties well.

Since the moment he crossed over, every step had been fraught with hardship.

When you have enough lice, you cease to itch.

There are always more solutions than problems.

If nothing else worked, they could simply slaughter the cattle and sheep for meat.

“Yes, my lord,” Chen Qinglin replied, his expression easing.

As time passed, their faith in Yang Tian only deepened, despite him being a young man barely of age.

Previously, he had been Desolate City’s highest authority, responsible for everything.

Now, Yang Tian was the lord.

If the sky fell, the lord would hold it up.

Without realizing it, Chen Qinglin felt a subtle sense of belonging and reliance, as if his heart was more at ease.

“Moo—”

“Baa—”

Listening to the calls of the livestock before him, Chen Qinglin’s feelings were complex.

Such fortunate troubles!

“Lord, there’s another matter to report. The southern gate has sent word: another group of people has arrived outside the city, wishing to join the army. Because of the recent war, we haven’t let them in yet. Now that the fighting is over, what should we do?” Chen Qinglin remembered and spoke up at once.

They found it very odd.

Why did people keep coming to Desolate City to enlist? It was almost uncanny.

The previous batch hadn’t been figured out yet.

They only knew one thing—it must be because of Lord Yang Tian.

But the conversation earlier had left them utterly baffled, not understanding at all.

“Allow them in, as usual. Have soldiers escort them over. From now on, if this happens again, do the same,” Yang Tian instructed without hesitation.

No need for concern.

Whether their intentions were sincere or not.

It was the same principle:

The more people who came, the better.

Yang Tian believed most truly came to support them, so even if a few troublemakers slipped in, there was nothing to fear.

Once on the battlefield, their petty schemes wouldn’t matter.

Yang Tian had his own suspicions about those coming to Desolate City.

They must all be veteran soldiers who admired the Champion Marquis and had benefited from his kindness or been saved by him.

Unimaginable, the Champion Marquis held such charisma, especially since he was no longer alive.

Coming to Desolate City was almost the same as facing death.

Yang Tian did not doubt that there were people willing to die in gratitude, or who held strong faith—just that their numbers were surprising.

“Uncle Fu, the messages I sent earlier should have arrived by now. Has anyone replied?” he asked upon returning to his residence.