Just as I lifted the tent flap, I was stunned by the sight before me. An iron pot steaming with hot soup was lying crookedly on the ground, spilling scalding broth everywhere. A ragged, somewhat deranged-looking woman with cyan-colored skin was struggling frantically. Judging by her movements and expression, she seemed to be the culprit who had kicked over the pot.
Even more startlingly, several people who had been perfectly fine moments before were now sprawled on the ground. Their bowls had fallen, half-sinking into the mud, with various ingredients scattered about, hanging limply against the earth. With glazed eyes and streams of saliva trickling from the corners of their mouths, these people had clearly passed out!
The woman was dressed in rags, her face covered in dirt. Judging by her figure, which hadn't lost its shape, she didn't seem very old, yet deep wrinkles were etched across her face. Despite her slender frame, she single-handedly resisted the tugging and pulling of seven or eight people without losing the upper hand, kicking the iron pot over and over until she dented it deep into the ground. All the while, she screamed crazily, "Wugalu, shuliye zhazaku'er!!!"
Chapter 97