Yuan Yunzhong asked another question, "For fifty thousand refugees, even if each person only drinks a bowl of clear water porridge daily, wouldn't that require eight pecks of rice a day?"
Not a single person in the council hall spoke.
It was precisely because everyone had calculated that if these refugees lacked food, the so-called fifty thousand people were merely silver-like pewter spearheads—unable to hold out for more than a few days before falling into chaos. It would be effortless to capture all these refugees, which is why the Ministry of War advocated for a firm suppression.
Though young, Yuan Yunzhong hailed from a family with a profound scholarly background. Having followed Master Jinghu from a young age, he was well-versed in these affairs of officials.
Burning with anger, he scoffed coldly, "Could it be that in your eyes these fifty thousand lives are not considered lives?"
Many people bowed their heads.
