This winter was exceptionally cold.
Snowstorm after snowstorm swept through, as if they would never cease. The frigid winds from the north howled day and night above the valley, like ghosts weeping and wolves howling, chilling one to the bone just to hear them.
Although cultivators above the third layer of Qi Condensation and Innate Martial Artists were unafraid of heat and cold, once the temperature fell to a certain point, even they could not ignore the threat of the harsh winter.
As for ordinary people, their lives became even harder.
The residents of Dongwu Stockade all hid away in warm cellars or secret rooms.
Families with the means could hole up like that for an entire winter, but those without sufficient stores of food and supplies were in dire straits.
As grain price within the stockade continued to soar, some Rogue Cultivators were forced to brave the wind and snow to hunt.
Those who usually drifted through life in particular finally tasted bitter hardship.
Quite a few Rogue Cultivators never returned after venturing out.
At the same time, the number of cultivators in Dongwu Stockade continued to grow. Conflicts of every kind broke out, and public security worsened.
Even the Guard Hall could no longer suppress it!
When Wang Chen stepped out of the alley that morning, he saw many unfamiliar faces.
They gathered in groups of three or five beneath the eaves along the street, their expressions cold yet vicious. They watched the passing pedestrians with grim gazes, like starving wolf beasts.
Even more numerous were the refugees and beggars.
These refugees and beggars huddled in corners, holding broken bowls as they begged passersby for alms.
There were also children in ragged clothes, long trails of frozen snot hanging from their noses as they darted through the crowd.