Everything that happened next was so logical.
When they finally came to the open space in the forest, the rat soldiers, who were deeply attracted to the mandrake fruit, had lost all their strength and courage.
Forget fighting to the death with the wolf cavalry, who were armed to the teeth, they could not even muster the will to kill themselves with their knives.
They were like loose marionettes, controlled by the strings formed from the condensation of the fragrance. They were muddle-headed and could not help but rush toward the steaming cauldron.
When they wolfed down their food, they fought with each other. Like a vicious dog pouncing on its food, they swept away all the cauldrons that were lined up in a row. They held their bellies and let out hot belches.
Was there a second option other than surrender?
After all, many of them had surrendered once.
