The sun took its place in the center of the sky. Without any clouds or anything obstructing its scorching light, the poor, haggard slaves were feeling as if they were burning alive as they were urged to move forward.
"Don't lag behind, you pests!"
A tanned man, who appeared to be a slave trader, ordered them with a cruel frown plastered across his face.
'Pathetic, I absolutely can't do anything with these few skinny cows.'
As a slave trader, his frown was not because he pitied them. Rather, it was out of annoyance. He realized that this batch was a rotten one, weak, haggard, and even the beauties were lost earlier.
Their party that departed from the city was 50 in total but was reduced to 15 people only due to the repetitive wolf attacks.
The slaves trembled upon hearing his words, but this fear did not allow them to stop moving.
