Volume Two: Bandits of This Place, Chapter 123: A New Look

The news of the city's establishment spread rapidly, like sweet but lethal wine, intoxicating all who tasted it. It would eventually be remembered, for this prosperity was unprecedented, and this grandeur had never been seen before. At the very least, in the Northern Territory, the name "Mobai" would henceforth be inextricably linked to the scent of coin.

In just over a month, Si Mountain was transformed by a forest of towering mansions and ornate dwellings, their heights and depths so dizzying one could lose all sense of direction. The warmth of singing stages and the melting spring air created a scene of prosperity beyond words.

It was said that no noble-style estates were permitted, yet the mountain folk, their purses bulging, built their own homes and added furnishings. It was only natural for them to build a few extra tiled rooms—could one truly call that the same extravagance as the noble families? At most, it was a land of bustling markets and households filled with abundance, a testament to the wealth of the common people and the fullness of their granaries.

Originally, there had only been a market behind the mountain. Despite the presence of great thoroughfares, it was, after all, a place of trade hidden behind the peaks, lacking any real sense of grandeur. But after the city was established... to use a common saying passed among the mountain folk: they might as well have been wearing their fur trousers over their heads like superheroes. The days in Si Mountain were filled with the constant rhythm of song and dance.

Travelers arriving at the borders would catch a glimpse of the silhouette of Mobai City, and an indescribable emotion would stir in their hearts. *The person who built this city... must have had too much money to burn!*

With its towering walls and endless stream of pedestrians, the city was a hub of constant movement. It was not just the wealthy; peddlers and laborers were a common sight. Even more extraordinary, someone had utilized the power of an expert in the Chitian Realm to divert the great river from behind the mountain, using the divine ability to move mountains and redirect waters. This great river was split into countless streams that cascaded down the face of Si Mountain, day and night without rest.

This was the only feat that left everyone in awe. It was so majestic and beautiful that, despite being a newly built city, it felt as though it possessed deep roots, like a land blessed by immortals. Where such twin blessings fell, how could disaster follow? It was as if someone had designed the city from the heavens, with the passage of time and the geomancy of the earth all outlined in a single scroll, presenting the visage of all living things and the face of the world in perfect detail.

The streets were wide, yet the bustling crowds and the revelry after its completion made them feel somewhat cramped. Merchants led their horses, mountain folk set up stalls, scholars wandered the sights, and martial artists headed toward the fighting arenas. Officials followed behind the patrols, strolling along. When they saw a husband and wife arguing, they would kindly step in to offer comfort, only to have their faces scratched for their trouble. They would emerge wincing, waving their hands, never daring to meddle in others' affairs again.

The officials, the patrolmen, and the garrison were all newly appointed. Lin Changtian had stripped away the rigid hierarchies of superior and inferior from the very marrow of their bones, so they interacted with a certain ease, free from the ugly dynamics of "master" and "servant." At least for the short term, that was how it remained. Lin Changtian had wanted to eradicate this rot at its root, so when he established the schools, he emphasized one thing above all: equality. *You are the ones to harmonize the world's follies; you are the ones to distinguish between the clouds and the mud.* But who knew if those taught at the Si Mountain Academy would eventually be blinded by this prosperous world and impose their own hierarchies and class divisions?

Lin Changtian stood at the highest point of the city, pulling his sleeves together, crouching on the ground and grinning incessantly. He suddenly loved this city, even if it wasn't his. The air was rich with the scent of human life. Should an immortal descend into the city, they would surely worry about their feet being stained by dust after only a few steps. Yet, this dust was not filthy; even if a white feather cloak swept across the steps, it would not be soiled. In his ideal vision, the refined and the common should be able to appreciate one another.

Unfortunately, the common was extraordinary. As for the refined... could one count the fact that the master of Mobai City was quite handsome?

In the city, some rode horses, while others strode about the market carrying products of technology. No one found it strange; it all seemed perfectly natural. One could even see people using fuel-burning cars to transport goods, yet the power source was horses grazing on grass. Livestock and technology, the backward and the advanced—they were inherently incompatible, yet after seeing them for so long, no one found it jarring.

After all, the energy required for these mechanical products was extremely scarce in the Northern Territory. Before the Age of Awakening, there had been resources to use, but after the Awakening, contact with the Central Plains was severed, and the natural order of this place became bizarre, as if it were intentionally or unintentionally erasing these energy sources. Within a year, no one used those once-coveted products of civilization anymore.

Horses had become divine steeds, and the people here had evolved, their bodies becoming exceptionally sturdy. Aside from weapons forged from local ores, it seemed nothing could harm them. Thus, those automatic firearms were reduced to the fate of fire-stoking sticks. This was truly a case of "Mickey Mouse in a house of wonders"—a professional would surely recognize the irony.

Lin Changtian felt a sense of loss; when satisfaction was too great, one became insatiable. He thought of the Lin family's Brahma City in the north of the Central Plains. It possessed an ancient, weathered aura—a mixture of technological structures and classical heritage that did not feel out of place, but rather naturally integrated. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship; one could only wonder how many years of history had settled into such depth.

The city must have been as old as antiquity, perhaps existing since the dawn of the Northern Territory itself. It watched dynasties rise and fall, nations prosper and wane; kings and generals would pass away, but those vast, towering walls would not crumble because of it. Of course, it would eventually collapse—nothing in this world was eternal. But there would always be someone to pick up the rubble from the ruins, brick by brick, wood by wood, to rebuild the shadow of an empire.

The people of the Central Plains called this "inheritance." It was a simple phrase written in ink on paper, but when one opened the pages, it was revealed to be a grandeur built upon human lives. The leaping fish and singing orioles, the rising winds and surging waters—even a speck of dust could contain a hundred rivers. Some sought to make their names through ambition, and in the midst of desire, a single embroidery brush held firm with an iron will...

"All of that will come to pass!" Lin Changtian tapped his own head and grinned. With that, he stood up, deciding to take a closer look at the hustle and bustle of the marketplace.

A scholar and a martial artist were drowning their sorrows in a tavern. The former was posturing with elegance, while the latter... well, he seemed to be genuinely trying to drink away his troubles. The martial artist wore coarse clothes that seemed a size too small, his brawny frame threatening to burst through the fabric.

"I've worked for over a month, and that godforsaken boss hasn't given me a single copper!" The man’s face was flushed red. He wept to the scholar while pouring wine down his throat. He kept his voice low, terrified of being overheard.

Lin Changtian found it amusing and paused to watch for a long time. Eventually, he understood the reason. A woman emerged from the back room, her waist remarkably wide and her appearance fierce. She stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes sweeping the room, and her brow furrowed when she spotted someone slacking off. The martial artist didn't notice, continuing to pour out his woes to the scholar. The scholar, unable to hold his liquor, was already drunk; instead of seizing the moment to compose a poem, he held his cup of murky, cheap wine and boasted of his own righteousness.

"That woman may be fierce, but she's just a dame! Can she eat you? Why don't you stand up to her!" the scholar said with resentment, blaming the martial artist for his cowardice.

The big man, touched on a sore spot, couldn't stop the tears from flowing. He grabbed the scholar's hand and sobbed, "Brother, you don't understand. That woman... she’s no good! When I first arrived, I was starving and ordered a bowl of noodles. That black-hearted owner insisted I had used too much seasoning and extorted a fortune from me! I was already penniless, and this just added insult to injury. I’ve had to stay here to work for her, enduring inhuman abuse and exploitation."

"I never would have guessed you were such a reasonable man, brother. To suffer this... well, this 'humiliation beneath the crotch' just for a few crumbs of coin?"

"Actually," the martial artist said sheepishly, scratching his head, "there's another reason. She shattered a wooden table with a single slap. I know I'm no match for her."

The scholar curled his lip in disdain. "Don't try to fool me, brother! At the end of the day, she's just someone who squats to pee. Why fear her? Call her out, and I'll vent your anger for you!"

"And how exactly will you do that? Let me hear it, too." The woman stood behind the scholar and tapped him on the shoulder, her smile as charming as a rose, though it held a hint of... malice.

The martial artist rubbed his eyes, wondering if he had drunk too much. How could he have such an illusion? But he didn't dare make a sound, because the woman's other hand was pressing down on his shoulder with increasing force.

"How will you vent it?" The scholar let out a cold snort and laughed toward the sky. "Men in our Northern Territory are kings in their own homes! Once we step out, how can we let a village woman humiliate us? But one must still be reasonable—first, pay off my brother's debt, and then smash her tavern to pieces!"

"Oh? So you're a young master from a wealthy family? You should have said so earlier." The woman beamed, secretly lowering the iron rod she had been hiding behind her back.

The scholar glanced at her sideways, looking quite haughty. "Money is a worldly possession. I have always valued my reputation above all; how could I have any?"

"Then this wine..."

The martial artist wore a bitter expression, looking at the scholar. Sure enough, the gentleman shrugged, gestured to himself, and said with shameless bravado, "The wine was bought for me by this brother here. Do you have a problem with that? By the way, may I ask who you are, miss..."

A figure flew out of the tavern. If Lin Changtian hadn't dodged quickly, he would have been struck by the heavy mass. It reeked to high heaven—a high-tech biochemical weapon, no doubt. The scholar lay on the ground for a long time before wobbling to his feet. He clutched his head, rolled up his sleeves, and marched straight back into the tavern.

He pursed his lips, looked at the woman with a waist as wide as a barrel, and gritted his teeth. "Let us... let us be reasonable."

The woman didn't even look at him. She sneered, "I'm not good at reasoning; I just like hitting people!" With that, the scholar was hoisted up like a chick and given a sound thrashing. His cries of agony filled the air, startling passersby into quickening their pace, not daring to linger.

The scholar was tough; even after a brutal beating, he refused to yield. He mumbled, "I don't accept this!"

"You can't beat me, so what does it matter if you accept it or not?"

"What I don't accept is... why was it him who bought the wine, and him who was badmouthing you behind your back, yet you only beat me!" the scholar blurted out. The martial artist, who had been watching the spectacle, was instantly gripped by terror, a chill running from his head to his toes.

*Alas! They say scholars are the most fickle-hearted, and today, it proves true!*

Lin Changtian, watching the show from outside, gave a thumbs-up. He was truly a scholar of the pen who could judge life and death—a man who was, indeed, far too "fragrant" for his own good.