At the border between the Northern Plains and the Central Plains, a group of refugees were sitting by the Brantas River with a campfire burning next to them.
This place was located at the northern edge of the Stelaria Consortium and bordered the grasslands. However, there were barely any signs of human activity here since the Stelaria Consortium’s troops rarely patrolled the area.
A group of people had gathered around the campfire to keep themselves warm. The clothes they were wearing clearly had a lot of patching, and it did not look like they were frequently washed either. These people were even carrying improvised firearms with them, so it was obvious they were bandits who lived in the wilderness throughout the year.
A rat-faced middle-aged man said, “Boss, do you think they’re gonna appear? The set date has passed.”
“I dunno...” A burly, middle-aged man rubbed his hands together. “Who knows what’s going on in the grasslands? I heard that it’s quite chaotic over there as well. Some of the smaller tribes have been wiped out just like that.”
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