Chen Ji and Yuan Xing looked around. These over two hundred infantrymen were either too old, thirty-five or older, or too young, fourteen or younger, with no more than twenty able-bodied men among them.
Only these twenty or so able-bodied infantrymen had swords that weren't rusty or chipped, wearing unknown cloth armor of various colors and styles.
Chen Ji clasped his hands politely and said, "Lord, we are truly not deserters, just local villagers. Otherwise, you can check my palm; I'm a Scholar, and there's not a trace of callus on my hands."
The commander leaned forward, pressing for answers with a stern voice, "Where are your household Yellow Registers?"
"Replying to Lord, no one carries around their household Yellow Registers."
"And your travel permits?"
"Lost."
