Prince Duan had taken Song Gao and Song Yuan to a secluded manor, which, though a property in the hands of Prince Duan, had suffered from a flood disaster three years ago. The ordinary land had been breached by mountain torrents, followed by a year of drought. The crops they had planted did not even recoup the costs of the seeds, and the barren soil was slowly but surely becoming completely barren.
Prince Duan stood on the vast, crop-less hillside, his face filled with a bold spirit, gazing at the vast expanse cracked like a spider web, as if he were watching the grandeur of his thousands of troops under his command.
"How about this?" Prince Duan pointed at a large patch of land in front of them.
Song Gao and Song Yuan wanted to offer praise, but in the entire suburbs of the Zheng capital, they could not find a second plot of land as barren as this. They wanted to commend it, but their minds lacked the eloquence, and they simply could not find the words.