The newcomer wore a pair of straw sandals covered in dark brown mud. She casually tossed a palm-sized, black and rough biscuit onto the muddy ground at her skirt's hem. Unconcerned whether the mud-stained biscuit would be eaten by Shen Tang, she simply passed it on to the next person.,It was unclear how long it had been since this person last cleaned themselves. What should have been a lustrous, black mane was now greasy and tangled with knots. A closer look at the exposed hairline revealed a layer of yellowed, sticky residue. A careful sniff offered a strange, pungent odor - something akin to sweaty socks left unwashed for weeks combined with crushed heather juice. The only redeeming feature was her striking features, which even dirt couldn't completely obscure.,Looking around, all I saw were elderly men and women, both young and old, dressed in coarse hemp prison uniforms and looking exhausted.。
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