His voice wasn't loud, yet it was authoritative and impossible to dispute.
Sun Wenyuan was taken aback.
Zhao Zun didn't rush to speak, instead casting his deep gaze once more at the refugees.
He could see those ragged common people, dragging families along, staggering, their faces marked by exhaustion and despair as they slowly walked into the city gates.
Among them, some used tree branches as crutches, some cradled dying children, and others helped the elderly who seemed to struggle with each step.
Zhao Zun sighed deeply and turned to look at Sun Wenyuan.
"Mr. Sun, these people have come through mountains and rivers. Since they are already at the city gates, it wouldn't be right to keep them outside. Let them all in."
Sun Wenyuan looked troubled, rubbed his hands, and said, "Prince, please understand, this... this many refugees coming into the city will be difficult to manage. If any trouble arises... besides..."
