Dark Wizard: Rise! My undead army!

Three days later, outside Free City.

Lyon stood on the city wall, watching the approaching army in the distance, his face growing increasingly grim.

Those aren't soldiers, they're refugees!

Thousands upon thousands of refugees, with their families in tow, carrying tattered bundles and leaning on wooden sticks, resembled a herd of livestock being driven.

A few veterans walked sparsely at the front of the column, wearing tattered armor and holding rusty spears.

The elderly, women, and children following behind, those who walked slowly were pushed along by those behind them, stumbling and falling.

Lyon clenched his fists.

"Anvil City... River Bend Town... Graystone Fortress... What do they mean by this?"

Sofia stood beside him, also watching the team.

"They've got a good plan. They've sent all the refugees here, saving on food and getting rid of the trouble."

"What I need are soldiers! Soldiers who can fight!" Leon's voice was low, but you could hear the anger in it.

"Can these old people, women, and children fight a war? They can't even lift a knife!"

Sofia did not speak.

As the procession drew closer, a commotion began to rise at the city gate, and the soldiers guarding the city were unsure how to deal with the people.

If we let them in, the city is already full; if we don't let them in, they'll just sit outside the city, crying, shouting, and begging.

Lyon walked down the city wall and arrived at the city gate.

When the refugees saw him, some knelt down, some shouted "Savior," and some stretched out their hands, begging him for food.

An old man knelt on the ground, his forehead hitting the stone slab with a loud thud.

"My lord... save us... Anvil City doesn't want us anymore... they said they'd let us come to you to enjoy a life of luxury..."

Enjoying life?

Leon was so angry he laughed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, he was completely calm.

He said to the officer beside him, "Let them in and arrange for them to stay in the barracks in the east district. Set up tents first, then distribute porridge."

The officer hesitated for a moment. "Sir, the grain..."

"I'll figure out the food," Leon interrupted him. "Let's settle the people first."

The city gates opened, and refugees poured in.

The city gate was crowded with people, and the sounds of crying, shouting and yelling mingled together.

Lyon stood to the side, watching the people walk past him.

There were mothers holding their babies, elderly people leaning on canes, and young people who were so thin they were just bones.

As they passed by him, some knelt down and kowtowed, some tugged at his clothes, and some just stared at him with eyes full of despair.

Lyon stood there, motionless.

Sophia walked over and said softly, "The refugees sent from Anvil City, River Bend Town, Graystone Fortress, and several other places total at least 30,000. Adding the refugees already in Free City, the total population is close to 100,000."

Lyon remained silent.

"The food supply could have lasted for forty days, but now it's only for twenty days at most," Sofia continued.

"If we don't find a solution soon, we'll really have to resort to cannibalism."

Leon turned to look at her. "What suggestions do you have?"

"Go find those city lords," Sophia said.

"The fact that they send refugees shows that they are afraid of you, afraid that you will attack them, afraid that you will seize their territory. Use this fear to force them to hand over food and weapons."

Lyon remained silent for a long time. "Okay."

That afternoon, Lyon assembled all the soldiers from Liberty City and selected some who could carry weapons from among the refugees, forming a force of ten thousand men.

There weren't enough weapons, so some people took knives, some took sticks, some took hoes, and some even took brooms and tree branches.

Armor was even scarcer; most people wore linen clothes and didn't even have a piece of leather armor.

Sofia brought out bread and water from the Free City Temple and distributed them to everyone.

Each person had a loaf of bread and a pot of water. After eating and drinking, they set off.

The large convoy marched out of Liberty City.

Leading the way were 1,800 regular soldiers from Free City, dressed in fairly neat armor and wielding iron spears.

Following behind were a militia of refugees, dressed in rags and carrying all sorts of random weapons.

Behind them was the logistics team, pushing several dilapidated carts loaded with tents, pots and pans, and the little food they had left.

Our first stop: Iron Anvil City.

Grove stood on the city wall, looking at the vast army in the distance, his expression not good.

He hadn't expected Leon to actually come, and with so many people.

Tens of thousands of people—that's probably all the strength Liberty City has.

Is Liberty City no longer defending itself?

Although most of this group was a motley crew, they were numerous and powerful, and if a real fight broke out, the small number of troops in Iron Anvil City would be no match for them.

"Lord, what should we do?" The voice of the staff member A trembled.

Grove gritted his teeth. "Open the city gates. I'll go and meet him."

The city gates opened, and Grove emerged with several advisors. He wore a broad smile and bowed respectfully from afar.

"Lord Lyon! I'm so sorry for not greeting you properly! I'm so sorry for not greeting you properly!"

Lyon, mounted on his horse, looked down at Grove.

"Lord Grove, I sent someone to ask for help, and you gave me ten thousand refugees. What does this mean?"

Grove's smile froze for a moment.

"My lord, you misunderstand. Iron Anvil City truly lacks sufficient troops. Those refugees will only be waiting to die if they remain in the city. It would be better to send them to your command so they can contribute to the recovery of lost territory."

"Do your part?" Leon's voice was cold. "What can those old people, women, and children do? You know the answer in your heart."

Grove's smile completely vanished. "Sir, what exactly are you trying to say?"

"Food, weapons, and armor," Leon said. "I'll take what you give to the refugees, but you have to give me food, weapons, and armor, or I'll go into the city and get them myself!"

Grove's expression changed.

"Sir, are you threatening me?"

“It’s not a threat,” Lyon said. “It’s a request. There are 50,000 people in Liberty City who need to eat, and they will run out of food in 20 days.”

"If you don't give it to me, I'll have to look elsewhere, but before I go looking elsewhere, I'll come here first."

Grove looked at the tens of thousands of men behind Lyon, then at the sparse garrison on his own city walls.

He gritted his teeth.

"We're out of food, and Iron Anvil City is almost starving too. We can give you some weapons and armor."

"How many?"

Grove thought for a moment. "Five hundred spears, two hundred swords, and one hundred suits of armor."

Leon shook his head. "Not enough. Two thousand spears, eight hundred swords, and four hundred suits of armor."

Grove's face twitched. "Sir, you're trying to kill me."

"I don't want your life," Leon said. "Iron City is rich in ironware, you can still produce these. Give them to me and I'll leave; if you don't, I'll take them myself."

Grove remained silent for a long time.

He glanced back at the guards on the city wall, then at the vast crowd behind Lyon.

Finally, he sighed.

"Alright, two thousand spears, eight hundred swords, and four hundred suits of armor, but let me make this clear beforehand: we really don't have any food."

Lyon nodded. "Deal."

Grove sent men to the storeroom to move things. Spears, swords, and armor were piled up at the city gate like a small mountain.

Lyon had his soldiers count the items, and once the quantity was confirmed to be correct, he had them loaded onto the truck.

Grove stood to the side, watching the weapons being carried away, his face trembling.

"Sir," Grove suddenly spoke, "what do you intend to do with those refugees?"

Leon looked at him. "They are human beings, and may be humanity's last hope. They need to be treated kindly."

Grove's expression was complex.

He has a short-sighted view and can't see far ahead.

Humanity's last hope must be entrusted to these idealistic, headstrong young people.

Lyon mounted his horse and led his men away.