The sand sea in the extreme south, the source of Yinchuan.

Brian sat in his tent, waiting for news from the front. Opposite him were Gulz Burnfire, the patriarch of the Flame Clan, and Thuram, the elder of the Aosha Clan.

The two of them have now become the spokesmen of the Mojin clan.

Together with the commander of the musket battalion representing the Great Chief, it can be said that the leaders who can decide the fate of the sand people have all gathered here.

The cold wind on the desert blew the tarpaulin, but the tent was unusually warm - the sand seemed to sit on a huge brazier, and no matter how cold the surface was, you could always feel the heat gushing out of your feet in the salt sand, the effect of which was comparable to the ondol and heating of Neverwinter.

The locals even invented a sand bed - digging a shallow pit in the ground that is one person long and wide, replacing the salt sand with white flowers and replacing it with sieved fine sand, and then burying oneself in it to maintain body temperature to the maximum. And the fine sand was soft to the touch, and lying on it was even more comfortable than a mattress made of linen. If you put a tent overhead, you can have a good time all winter.

Unfortunately, it is this geothermal heat that has ruined the vitality of this place. The salt in the sea water is constantly precipitating, turning the desert for about 100 kilometers into a snow-white blank. Not to mention flowers and trees, even sandworms and poisonous scorpions are difficult to see.

There are no oases, there is no source of food, and the vast plains are no different from the dead land, and if it is desolate, the only place in the extreme south is the Blackwater Swamp.

For hundreds of years, the Mojin people had built only a few scattered wooden huts at the junction of the saline land for those who came from afar to settle down, but now the situation is different.

"You're very calm, young man," Gulz suddenly spoke to break the silence, "The Angry Tao Clan and the Bone Slashing Clan are both the top powerful clans in Iron Sand City, the Great Chieftain can easily defeat them, just because those small tribes can do the same—you have so much confidence in them?"

Seeing that someone had started, Thuram also hurriedly added, "In the past year, there have been no new tribes in Iron Sand City that have been promoted to the six major clans, and it is obvious that they control all the resources flowing into the city. And in the extreme south, as long as there is enough food, the clan can quickly recover. Their strength now is even stronger than before you came here. ”

"......Confidence?" said Brian, shaking his head slowly, "I don't have such a thing for them. ”

"That'...... Why don't you use the forces of the Great Chief?" Thuram said with some surprise, "Just a hundred men, combined with the warriors of Flame and Austal, will definitely make this group of arrogant people dare not cross the small oasis even a step. ”

"And then, let the First Army forever parade the line of the Yinchuan Oasis and act as the caretaker of those small tribes?" Brian looked at him, "Do you think that's what Your Majesty wants to see?"

"Uh, this ......," Thuram was momentarily speechless.

Soon after the implementation of the Great Migration Plan, the development of the Far South was also launched, and in addition to the construction of the port of Daqing at the endless cape, another focus was on the saline-alkali land located at the source of Yinchuan. Due to the lack of rivers, the only way to transport these white industrial resources out of the desert is to rely on a large amount of manpower and animal power, and to haul truckloads to the nearest tributary of the Chishui River.

For this reason, the two cities of Shenlongling and Bishuigang have made lucrative conditions to attract enough sand people to join the sand moving army.

In just one year, there were many more tents and people coming and going at the junction of the saline-alkali land.

Deep wells were drilled, and fresh water was pumped out of the Yinchuan Dark River, which flowed underground, and was used for drinking and for the filtration and purification of salt sand.

The humble factory was then built, with no steam gushing and no roar of machines, and everything was done by human hands—the whole process was like panning for gold, and people gathered the wealth scattered among thousands of gravels, recrystallized it into pieces, and then loaded it into trucks and transported to the hinterland of the West, waiting for further processing, this repetitive and boring work became the new melody of the saline land.

Although there are still no oases, sandworms and poisonous scorpions, it is a little bit lively.

The payment for food and clothing appeals not only to migrants, but also to small tribes that have yet to make a decision. They often come to the junction in droves, exchanging their strength for wheat, jerky, and cloth. Some happily returned to the oasis with food, while others stayed behind and became part of the migrants.

This phenomenon has aroused the discontent of the Great Clans of Iron Sand City, and the more clans that come out of the oasis, the fewer resources they will receive. The conflict finally erupted two months ago, when Rry Tao and the Bone Clans dispatched cavalry to intercept and kill a group of small tribesmen from the oasis and dump their heads on their way north, apparently to warn the other Mojinsha people who were about to move.

The big clans didn't dare to be enemies of the king of the Grey Keep, so they aimed their butcher knives at the small tribes that had not yet submitted, they probably thought that this would not attract the thunderous wrath of the Great Chief, after all, no king of the northern kingdom would really care about the life and death of a hundred or so sandmen, but they did not expect that this action directly touched the nerves of Neverwinter.

Unwarranted population cuts are undoubtedly one of the most taboo things His Majesty Roland does - and Brian has long known this.

Long before Gurz's letter arrived, the musket battalion commander was ready to respond.

"What if they fail?" Gulz Burning Flame rubbed his forehead, "If I'm not mistaken, those men have only been trained in muskets for three months now, right?"

"Then they will be killed, and their clan will become slaves of Iron Sand City. Brian closed his eyes, "I said before I set out on the expedition that they were not fighting for me, but for themselves - I gave them a blade strong enough to fight the Iron Knights, and if they could not protect their people from their butcher's knives, then they did not deserve to be part of the Greykeep army." For me, it's just a matter of retraining a new batch of people. ”

"......" Gurz showed a serious look for the first time, as if he had a new understanding of the young officer.

"And, you forget, three months is just a period of training for muskets—" he continued, "and in addition to muskets, they also have sabers, daggers, fists, feet, and teeth, and these weapons have been trained since the moment the sandmen were born, haven't they?"

Brian's chosen Sand Minker Force is composed of residents from small tribes. Unlike big clans like Furious Flame, although they chose to stay on the front line of the Grey Keep, they still miss the tribes in the oasis. These people do not have a unified background, but they can form an invisible bond between the two places, and they are the best source of troops for the local army. And the old flintlock muskets that were eliminated became their standard equipment.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded outside the tent.

"Stop!" shouted the guards.

"I'm Jodah from the ambush group, and I have something important to report to the battalion commander!"

"Let him in," Brian snapped his eyes open.

The curtain was lifted, and a man with a bloody face stumbled in, and after shaking twice, he fell to one knee as if he could no longer support his body. Although he was out of breath, his eyes were as bright as stars.

"My lord, we won!"