Qingzhou, Linjiang Prefecture.
Endless streams of hawkers and porters bustled through the long streets, seemingly no different from usual.
In the teahouse, the storyteller faced a crowd far larger than before, exerting himself to earn a few more copper coins. Unfortunately, with more listeners came fewer willing to pay.
The common folk didn't understand the situation and could only glean bits and pieces about the struggles between Qingzhou's experts and demonic beasts from exaggerated rumors.
But their keen sense of danger was an instinct they relied on to survive.
They sighed seeing the constables patrolling the streets or spotting a few unfamiliar, grim-faced martial heroes in town.
They would replace the coarse rice in their pots with bran and the two pieces of fatty scraps in their bowls with dark, salty vegetables. Then they would save and hide away the spare copper coins as stockpiled food in some inconspicuous corner of their homes.
