Qiao Mu walked to the side without a sound.
Several Holy Water Sect ladies entered the thatched-roof teahouse. Soon afterwards, they grimly brought out 10 or so tatter-clothed women and children covered in countless injuries of all sizes.
The naive Princess Xiao Mi widened her eyes, her oval face in shock. "Th-they?"
Of these women and children that were being trafficked to Black City, the oldest was in her early 20s, the youngest was only seven. Each person had been tortured ruthlessly, and they had been locked up in dark rooms for so long that even when they were walking under the sunlight now, they still wore blank and dazed expressions.
Qiao Mu's gaze landed on a young woman in the very back.
The young woman was not tall, and her forehead had a half-dried bloodstain. Half of her face was also beaten black and blue.
She tightly hugged something that was enshrouded in a molding cloth rag.
