In the early morning of Canglang City, the bitter wind remained piercingly cold. On the crude drill ground of the Old Wolf Battalion, however, the atmosphere was even colder than the weather. Dozens of soldiers dressed in ragged military tunics stood in a tight circle, silence pressing down on everyone's heart like a heavy stone.
In the center of the crowd, several strings of copper coins tied with hemp rope were scattered on the ground, while a much larger quantity of shoddy iron and lead coins lay strewn about in a chaotic mess, casting a dim and lifeless glow against the dusty earth.
A veteran with a face full of bristly whiskers, nicknamed "Old Scar," was clutching a handful of iron coins whose original color was barely discernible, his rough hands trembling violently with rage. With a fierce motion, he slammed the iron coins down hard onto the ground, the inferior currency producing a dull, heavy thud upon impact.
Chapter 109