The fire in Blade Fangs Camp grew weaker, but black smoke continued to rise from it.
The subordinates of the Legendary Wing stood in formation and bewilderment as they watched the prisoners next to them gobble down their food. The mercenaries, on the other hand, stood in a corner warily and kept their distance.
"What happened?" Tardin stuffed a piece of field ration into his mouth desperately. He did not even bother to wash it down with water. "Does this count as… our last meal?"
As he ate, he glanced at a remote spot below the sand dune. There were three figures there: two adults, and a teenager. The former two stood stiffly, while the smaller figure sat cross-legged on the ground. He was also gobbling up his food as well.
Next to Tardin, Beldin shook his head and continued to gorge on the field rations. "Does it matter?"
