Lu Yan had a very thorny problem on his hands right now.
His sense of direction was absurdly terrible, practically on par with Jiang Ci's. As long as the surrounding scenery looked slightly similar and there were no landmarks for reference, he could easily get lost on the spot.
If he relied solely on himself to find the way to Beizhou City, he would probably end up wandering into some desolate mountain or wild forest halfway through, circling around and wasting who knew how many days.
After mulling it over, he simply picked a local from the crowd of fleeing refugees along the way to serve as a living map. He promised that once they reached the gates of Beizhou City, he would help the person sneak inside as payment for their guidance.
Just like that, Lu Yan gained a traveling guide.
If this guide were to take an MBTI test, he would definitely be an ENFP.
The man's mouth barely ever stopped. Along the way, he rambled about everything under the sun—from the constellations in the sky to local customs on the ground, rumors of the Northern Border, and gossip from the Central Continent. He constantly spewed all kinds of anecdotes and strange tales.
As the saying goes, a skilled man will never starve in a year of famine; having a silver tongue was a talent in its own right.
Lu Yan actually listened with great interest. The street-level gossip the guide shared was never recorded in books or classics, but it was exactly what filled the gaps in his true understanding of this land. The monotony of the journey was largely washed away by this endless chatter.
Beizhou City, the first pass separating the Central Continent from the Northern Border, was neither close nor impossibly far.
With Lu Yan's current cultivation, condensing spiritual energy into a steed and supplementing it with a simple movement-assisting formation, a normal journey would only take half a day to reach the destination.
Yet only three hours had actually passed when a gray, heavily damaged outline of a city wall emerged on the distant horizon. Many sections had collapsed into massive gaps, looking thoroughly battered by the elements.
Lu Yan reined in his spiritual steed. Looking at the dilapidated ramparts in the distance, a trace of doubt appeared between his brows as he couldn't help but ask, “Have we reached Beizhou City so soon?”
Hearing this, the guide immediately waved his hand, a look of familiarity on his face. “No way. The real Beizhou City wouldn't look so decrepit.”
As the first choke point used by the Central Continent to isolate the chaos of the Northern Border and resist invasions by the Formless Spirits and Ice Spirits, it wasn't actually in the same devastated state that Jiang Ci had witnessed when she was exiled to the Northern Border back then.
Of course, don't expect it to be bustling or grand either. Those pampered sect lords of the Central Continent would never willingly run to the bitter, barren Northern Border to play in the mud and play house with the bloodthirsty Ice Spirits every day.
How comfortable it was to stay in the heart of the Central Continent, enjoying daily offerings, drinking tea, indulging in pleasure, collecting taxes, and casually oppressing low-class mortals in their spare time. Their lives were truly “flourishing.”
Thus, in the eyes of these high-and-mighty cultivators, infrastructure labor like building city walls was a chore meant only for low-level rogue cultivators. As high-level cultivators, they had no need to personally get their hands dirty.
Such drudgery as building defensive fortifications was naturally dumped onto rogue cultivators and mortal laborers. The major sects only needed to casually dispatch a Foundation Establishment cultivator to act as an overseer, and everything would be fine.
These disciples from the great sects of the Central Continent looked down on the wandering rogue cultivators from the bottom of their hearts, carrying an innate sense of superiority. As native city dwellers of the Central Continent (cough, cough), how could they condescend to associate with these mud-legged peasants? Only the Formation Sect was different.
It would have been one thing if they were completely useless at building walls and paving roads, but they also loved to boss people around and give blind directions from the sidelines.
One moment they would complain that the wall wasn't built beautifully enough to match their aesthetic standards; the next, they would scold everyone for working too slowly. It was easy for them to talk without doing any of the heavy lifting, standing on high ground and acting incredibly bossy.
Their patronizing attitude was on full display, their subtext crystal clear: that deigning to offer advice was a massive blessing accumulated in a past life.
But this group of rogue cultivators, who traveled far and wide living on the edge of a blade, were by no means soft targets to be bullied at will. They had only taken this job of building the city wall for the spirit stone wages; they planned to take the money and leave as soon as the work was done.
You, a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator, putting on airs just because of your sect background—did you really think you were hot stuff? Did you have feces for brains?
These rogue cultivators who managed to survive the harsh environment of the Dharma Ending Era all possessed their own unique skills.
In terms of raw cultivation, they might not compare to the core disciples meticulously nurtured by the sects, but their life-or-death tactics, various unorthodox skills, and practical combat experience were incredibly abundant.
Among this wall-building team, the one with the highest cultivation had even reached the mid Golden Core stage.
Under normal realm suppression, a mid Golden Core cultivator killing a Foundation Establishment cultivator was as simple as slaughtering a dog.
Sect disciples had merely received systematic and complete cultivation training; they weren't all once-in-a-lifetime geniuses like Jiang Ci.
Was it possible for just any random sect disciple to fight above their realm? If everyone could do that, what would be the point of cultivating?
When fighting, they wouldn't need to worry about strategies or techniques; they could just yell about bonds and friendship and charge in blindly.
This time, wit, combat experience, cultivation strength, and even moral justification were all on the side of the rogue cultivators. The fuse that ignited the conflict was merely an absurd demand from that supervising disciple from the Central Continent.
He insisted on changing the corner towers to a pure mortise-and-tenon structure, strictly forbidding the laborers from using any iron nails.
Screw you! What the hell? Was he treating the construction of a defensive wall like playing house?
That overseer even stood on high ground, solemnly preaching his theories, arguing that iron nails rusted easily and would rot the wood over time, causing the structure to loosen and collapse.
Was it possible that this city wall was a military defense line meant to withstand the attacks of the Ice Spirits, not a pavilion for people to enjoy the scenery and cool off?
Furthermore, this was a world of cultivation. Why talk about mortal chemical rusting? These nails were all forged from Spirit-Awakening Steel. Rust your ass!
Everyone present was too lazy to pay attention to this impractical, empty talk. Seeing that the crowd ignored his instructions, the overseer flew into a rage out of humiliation and simply withheld everyone's wages, refusing to distribute them.
No pay? Fine. Everyone went on strike and halted all work.
The strike thoroughly hit the sect disciple where it hurt. He jumped up and down in a frenzy, his anger boiling over as he raised his whip and lashed it fiercely at the most good-natured Golden Core veteran in the crowd.
Even worse, this whip lash landed squarely on the veteran's face.
As everyone knew, one must never push an honest person too far.
Having his face lashed in public, a wave of humiliation instantly surged within the veteran. He could no longer suppress his rage. Drawing his weapon on the spot, he struck and killed the Central Continent overseer right then and there.
With the man dead, the wall-building project naturally could no longer proceed. However, the Golden Core elder was righteous; he tore open the overseer's storage bag, took out all the spirit stones meant for the project's wages, and distributed them to every single rogue cultivator laborer present without missing a single coin.
Having received their spirit stones, who would want to stay here and take any more abuse? Build a wall? Build a piece of shit!
The crowd dispersed in an instant, scattering in all directions. Rogue cultivators were so numerous that if the Central Continent authorities wanted to register and put bounties on everyone involved in the riot, the wanted list would have to be so long it would have to be folded eighteen times over.
In the end, they could only take out their anger on the common people, adding several layers of taxes. Heh.
Thus, the outskirts of Beizhou City were left with this peculiar sight.
Lu Yan gazed at the ruined walls in the distance as the guide continued to explain the history of the situation to him.
“So, this ring of broken walls you see before you is the old city wall left behind. It was originally planned to be completely demolished, but the project was completely abandoned halfway through. Since the work wasn't finished, the old wall could only remain in place.
“As for the truly completed new city wall, you'll have to keep walking further inside to see it.
“As for why the city wall shrank further inland the more it was built? If you take a few more looks deep into the city, you'll understand the reason.”
Rate on N.U.
